Page 1 of That Friendzone Feeling
1
WALKER
Sothat’swhy she didn’t hear me call to her asIcame up the back stairs.
Asmile creeps across my face asIlean against the doorway to the office above ourManhattanpub.
Emilyis half turned away from me, toward the window that frames the cold, night sky, her eyes closed, headphones on, the sound ofTheDreamtownBoysrattling out of them.Howthe hell can her eardrums bear it?Notjust the extreme volume, butTheDreamtownBoysthemselves.
Onearm waves over her head as she silently mouths the words into a sample bottle for our new range of fruit-infused ales.
Herhips swing in time with her arm, silver heels clacking back and forth on the restored factory wood floor, and her blue-green velvet dress clings to her backside, riding up to reveal a good stretch of thigh.
Emily’sbeen usingTheBoys, as she calls them, as her “cheer up” music for years.So, listening to them alone,amid the firstNewYear’sEveparty at the newly opened flagship of ourToastedTomatocraft brewpub chain, when she should be at her happiest and require no cheering up at all, can’t mean anything good.
Myeyes are drawn from her gyrating ass to a pile of suitcases and bags behind her desk.
Ah.Therewe have it.
Herewe go again.
“Hey,Lombardo,”Ishout at whatIhope is aboveDreamtownBoyslevel. “Coffee.”
Ilook at her drink in my hand. “Orwhatever the hell this is,”Isay to myself.
StillTheBoyswail around her ears, still her arm and hips swing in time.She’sin a whole other world over there.
Oh, sweetJesus.Nowshe’s actually singing.Thatdin could raise people from the dead just so they can plead with her to stop.
Iput my cup of pure, unadulterated black coffee on my desk, along with a fallen sparkly snowmanI’dpicked up off the stairs on my way up—a casualty of theChristmasdecorations being taken down.
There’sno way for me not to make her jump.AllIcan do is try to minimize how high.
Imove toward her just as she screeches “Iwant yoooou” like a tone-deaf cat being stepped on, while screwing her eyes even tighter shut and pointing toward her reflection in the dark window.
Ican’t help but chuckle.
Inan effort to not startle her too much,Irest my hand gently on her back, just below where her dress dips between her shoulder blades.
Herfeet leave the floor at the same time as she spinsaround to face me, her eyes now wide open, her waving hand now clutching her heart.
“Whatthe fuck,Walker?Seriously, what the fu—”
Herred-rimmed eyes scan my face, her brow creased. “Walker?”
There’sno point in replying.She’llnever hear me overTheDreamtownBoysstill doing their thing in her ears.Ihold out her drink and nod at it.Shetakes it, her sore eyes not leaving my face.
Itake hold of both sides of her headphones and unclasp them from her head.Inevitably,TheBoysget louder, and nobody needs that. “Where’syour phone?Ineed to turn off this bunch of tuneless fools.”
“Whathave you done to your face?” she says. “Whatthe hell’s happened to the furry animal that crawled onto your chin and died years ago?”
Irummage on her desk for her phone. “Shavedit off last night.”
“Notsure what shocked me more—you appearing out of nowhere or the lack of facial hair.ThoughtIwas about to be mugged by a handsome intruder for a second.”
“Handsome?”Thereit is.Ihit stop on the screen, silencingTheBoys, and drop her headphones next to the phone.“IfI’dknownI’dget a ‘handsome,’Imight have dumped the beard years ago.”
Sheputs down the sweetest coffee concoction known to man and the beer bottle microphone and grabs my still slightly chilly face with both of her warm, soft, purple-finger-nailed hands. “Ican’t believe it.Lookat you.”Shesmells of that musky perfume she wears only on special occasions.
