Page 87 of Friend Zoned

“Aid, don’t tell me you were dumb enough to not come clean before you brought her here,” Katherine whispers.

“I told her more than once. She didn’t believe me, and you two told me to not say anything and play dumb,” I accuse them.

“Well, we weren’t serious,” Lincoln whispers. “Jesus, do you have any idea what it’s like to come here for the first time? I was not prepared, and I’ve always known who your sister is. She’s nice, though. I approve.” He gives me a thumbs up and I roll my eyes at him.

“What’s the big fucking deal?” I ask. “It’s just a damn house.”

“Exactly,” Katherine says, backing me up.

“You two, I swear,” Lincoln shakes his head at us. “Your damn pool house is thirty-five hundred square feet. I grew up in a fifteen hundred square foot home with two brothers and a sister.”

I stand so I can go find Jeannie, but then I ask, “What’s the average size for a pool house? How big was yours?” Lincoln throws both hands in the air in defeat.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” Lincoln says.

“What?” I shrug, not understanding his point. “You think we had a choice being raised in this place?”

“Oh, poor you.” Lincoln waves both of us off and pours himself another glass of wine.

“She’s so beautiful, Aid. Go lay on that Walsh charm,” Katherine says. I ignore her and go down the hall to the closest bathroom. The door is shut, and I press my ear to it but don’t hear a sound. The toilet doesn’t flush, and I don’t hear running water. I turn the knob, but the door’s locked.

“Jeannie?” I knock. It takes about half a minute for her to crack open the door. I look down and see her phone in her hand, and I push my way inside.

“What are you doing, baby? Come have appetizers. You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” I reach for her, but she takes a step back. I continue on as if she’s not upset with me and say, “I can’t guarantee whatever Katherine is going to make will be edible. Looks like she gave Cook today off.”

Her eyebrows rise at that, and I want to bite my tongue for my slip.

“Cook?” she asks. She shakes her head when I don’t answer. “I looked you up,” she continues. “The day after the wedding. I saw a bunch of stuff. Your salary,” she whispers as if it’s some secret. “Your two years at Stanford before you were drafted into the NBA. Your career ending injury, not to mention hours upon hours of clips of your old games. There was never any mention of you and your connection to The Walsh Group. Nothing. Then I remembered that I typed Aiden Walsh siblings in the search, but I got distracted and never went back to it.”

The phone buzzes in her hands. She swipes something on the screen and looks back down. I take the phone from her and look at it. It’s a three-year-old article about my father stepping down as CEO after his heart attack. There’s an old family picture of us all, and there are two sentences about my connection to the family.

“I told you who I was the night we met,” I remind her. I give her back the phone, and she slides it into her purse.

“Is that the stance you’re going to take?”

“I told you a few other times too.” I grasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger. She tries to pull away, but I won’t let her. She swats at my hand, all to no avail.

“You really didn’t, and you can’t convince me otherwise. Let me go.” I drop my hand and she takes a step back. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what? Bring you to my sister’s house for dinner? This is ridiculous.”

We stand in the bathroom, both of us breathing hard. “I should scratch your face,” she threatens.

My chuckle only makes her angrier

“I promise you, you can’t.” She reaches for my face before the words are fully out of my mouth, but she doesn’t come close. My hand wraps around her wrist. I move closer and press into her. “I’m not Quintin, baby.” I run my nose along the base of her neck. “For one, I value you. Two, neither one of us is going anywhere, and three, you’re not fast enough to hit me.”

She pushes against my chest with her free arm, and I step away, but I don’t let go of her wrist. I kiss the inside of it, and she shudders.

“Says who?” She narrows her eyes.

“Says me.” She goes for my face with her free hand, but I catch that too. Our eyes lock, and to show her how powerless she is, I pull her to me with hardly any effort. I put both her hands behind her back and hold them with one of mine. All her efforts to get free are in vain. “You want to play, Jeannie?”

“I’m not feeling playful,” she hisses. She gets on her toes and tries to bite my chin, but she can’t quite reach it.

“Not here. I’ll give you a chance to hit me when we get home.” I pull her closer to me and press my erection into her. “If you miss, I get to fuck the anger out of you.”

“You won’t be fucking anybody,” she whispers. I lean my head down toward her mouth. She moves her head out of the way before our lips can touch, but I grab her face with my free hand.

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