Page 23 of Tricking an Introvert

Cole

The next morning, Cole stormed into Michael's pristine Tribeca penthouse and planted himself in the middle of the living room, right in front of the author, who was eating cereal with one hand and typing with the other while seated on his couch.

"I'm friend-zoned," he stated.

Michael stared at him cluelessly, then blinked. "Come again?"

"I'm friend-zoned. I spent an entire evening with a woman and we watched The Princess Bride, then Star Trek one and two. She fucking falls asleep on my shoulder, and whispers the name of another dude in her sleep. I may as well be invisible. My Poires belle Helene are sexier than me, as far as she's concerned."

"Your desserts are irrefutably sexy," Michael argued. "And it sounds like a good evening, overall. Plus, if she sleeps in the same room as you, it means she doesn't think you're a psycho who'd take advantage of her. It's a great sign."

"It means I'm friend-zoned," he reiterated.

Michael winced. “What dude? Is it an ex? A current boyfriend?"

"I don't think she has anyone—did she tell you anything about a guy over the weekend?"

His friend gasped, and put down his spoon. "Wait, you mean you think you're friend-zoned by Tessa freaking Michaels?" Now he laughed out loud.

Cole narrowed his eyes. "What's that about?"

"Nothing. Just that you are most definitely not friend-zoned. The girl blushes every time you glance at her. Come on."

"She blushes all the time! She's a redhead, in case it escaped your notice. It comes with the territory."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I know what I saw, but whatever. What dude was she talking about? Maybe it's her brother."

"I met her brother. He’s Lewis Michaels. She was going on about some Willem."

"Her brother is Lewis Michaels?" Michael whispered the name, almost reverently.

He wasn't much of a hockey fan, although he did tag along to games. Apparently, the guys looked pretty good. Cole wondered what Michael saw to fawn over when they wore their protective gear, uniform, mouth protection, and all that jazz, but he wasn't going to question his friend's kinks.

"Yes. And no, I haven't asked for an autograph." Yet. He certainly would next time he saw him. "Unless she has another brother, she was fantasizing about some guy while sleeping on my shoulder. If that's not the friend zone, I don't know what circle of hell it is."

"Hang on, Willem? Not William, Billy, Will—Willem?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"As in, the character from Eating the Storm?"

Cole blinked.

Oh.

That book had been on the floor of her living room the first time he'd come into her house. And the name was pretty rare, come to think of it.

"Oh." He said it out loud for emphasis.

Michael, the asshole, was laughing his ass off again.

"It's even worse. She's dreaming about the worlds in your head."

"What can I say, the woman has great taste," Michael retorted proudly. "As for the imaginary friend-zone, let us hazard a guess. Maybe she has no clue you're interested so she's treating you like a friend to avoid rejection. Thought of that?"

Cole frowned, ready to dismiss the possibility. He'd gone to see her with zero real reason and a poor, half-assed excuse. He hadn't hidden his attraction, eager to see any form of encouragement from her. Other than the moment when she'd looked so vulnerable after talking about the dog, she'd interacted with him the same way as she did with Lewis.

Cole was used to confident women who were quick to make their interest clear when they liked what they saw. Tessa was pretty sure of herself in many ways—she was proud of her art, willing to tease him, certain of her humor and intellect. But thinking back to what she'd said about relationships, he questioned if Michael was right.

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