Page 62 of Friend Zoned

Do you know that yellow roses mean friendship? I had no idea until today. To my bestie on our first Valentine’s Day together. Aid.

There’s a pink bouquet, and all that card says is, ‘These are pretty just like you.’ He signs the card with a heart.

“You know he’s in love with you, right?” Layla says. I had forgotten she was there. I ignore her and smell each bouquet. “You know that, right? This is just like Pretty Woman,” she sighs. “Except you’re not a prostitute.” I roll my eyes at her. “And you’re black.”

Still ignoring Layla, I grab my phone to call Aiden, but I remember he’s in meetings for the next two hours.

“Can I have this one?” Layla grabs the vase with peach-colored roses, and I snatch it from her. When she frowns, I take one flower and hand it to her.

We were supposed to spend last night together, but his flight home got canceled due to an ice storm in Milwaukee. He got home this morning after I had left for work. There’s an at home game tonight, but he’s picking me up right after so we can go dancing. That’s still hours away, and all I want is to be with him right now.

I take the red and yellow bouquets and put them on my desk, grinning the entire time. While I figure out where to put the others, there’s a knock on my door, and Quintin walks in without being invited. Refusing to let him ruin my good mood, I decide to ignore him and continue arranging my roses. Layla elbows me in the ribs then leans against the wall.

“I’m looking for Eve,” he says. The words die in his throat when he looks around my office. He glances at the roses and then back at me as if he’s expecting me to offer an explanation.

“Do I look like Eve to you, Quintin? She’s at lunch. Make an appointment next time.”

His nostrils flare and he walks further into my office.

“Did a guest send these?”

I arch an eyebrow and don’t respond.

“Nope,” Layla says. I narrow my eyes at her, but all she does is grin while she rubs her hands together.

“Your mom must have sent them then.” Quintin’s arrogance started to annoy me as soon as I was mature enough to realize that it wasn’t confidence. He’s an insecure little weasel.

“Have you ever known my mother to send me flowers, Quintin?” My mother is not the type who would spend money on sending roses. The most she’ll do is pick up a bouquet from the grocery store. Quintin eyes the flowers again. I see a card sticking out of the white bouquet and grab it before he can.

I stare at him, raise an eyebrow, and dare him to say another word. He looks around, but I can see some of the color leave his face. He runs a hand over his forehead, a sign that he’s stressed.

“Well, where did these come from?”

Layla starts to giggle. I gaze at her, and she slaps her hand over her mouth to keep quiet. It doesn’t work.

“My man, Quintin. My man sent me flowers. Is that okay with you? Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

The room finally goes deathly quiet. Layla moves away from the wall and takes a step closer to me. Her eyes don’t leave Quintin the entire time. She’s one second away from a full-blown belly laugh.

“Your man?” He says the words as if the very idea is ridiculous. This time, it’s me who chuckles. I grab one of the peach-colored roses and smell it.

“Yeah. My man. Don’t you have a pregnant girlfriend to look after? Go do that and stay the hell out of my business.”

He goes for a vase, but I snatch it away before he can touch it.

“Don’t you dare taint my flowers with your touch,” I warn him.

He drops his hand and takes a step back. “Must be some guy who lives in his mother’s basement.” He shakes his head.

At that, Layla loses it and starts to laugh uncontrollably.

“Right because men who live with their parents can afford to send flowers,” I tell him.

Layla looks up at the ceiling and says, “Make it make sense, Lord.”

“Who the hell is she?” Quintin asks, pointing at Layla.

“Is that your way of saying you didn’t send any flowers for your own woman?” Layla asks. Quintin looks at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time. She smirks and offers him her hand. “I’m Layla, and you must be D.B.” Her upper lip twitches.

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