Page 12 of That Friendzone Feeling
Jesus,Ihope she’s all right.AndthatIhaven’t totally fucked this up.
Iopen my eyes to find my face mashed into a sofa cushion and a black-and-white movie on theTV.Thelast time my eyes were open it was aSeinfeldmarathon.
Atoilet flushes on the other side of the loft.
Oh, thankGod.She’sback.Thatmust be what woke me up.
Iblow out a long breath of relief asIpush myself upright.
Irub my eyes, run my fingers through my hair, and quench my dry mouth with a swig of warm beer from the half-drunk bottle on the table in front of me before making my way toward the guest room.
“Em?”Iknock on the restored sliding barn door. “Isthat you?Areyou back?”
“Yup,” she calls from the other side. “Didn’tmean to disturb you.Sorry.Goodnight.”
Jesus, she's shutting me down.Shuttingme out.She’smy best fucking friend.Ican’t have driven an irreparable rift between us because of one stupid joke kiss that was meant to make her laugh, not infuriate and repel her.
Ihave to fix this.
“Iwas worried about you.”
“Noneed to worry,” she calls back.
“Well,Ihadn’t heard from you all day.Andit’s—”Iactually have no clue what time it is.Iconsult the watch she gave me, my most treasured possession after my parents’ wedding rings. “It’salmost midnight.”Thisis a heavy door to have a conversation through.Mylips almost brush the wood. “Anythingcould have happened.”
Outof nowhere the door whizzes to the side on its tracks, revealingEmilywearing a giantSuperwomanT-shirtthat ends midthigh, her hair in a bundle on top of her head, a toothbrush in her hand, and an expression that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for happy.
“Youdon’t need to worry about me.I’ma grown-ass woman.”
“Iknow bu—”
“Thatold girlfriend was right.You’vealways been like this.”Shepoints the toothbrush at me. “I’mfive minutes late for anything and you assumeI’mdead in a ditch somewhere.”
I’mnot about to argue with that cold, hard fact.
Sheplants her hands on her hips, making theT-shirt rise at the sides. “Evenmy own father never paced up and down watching the secondhand tick around the clock whenIwas out late.”
“Yeah, but that’s because your dad’s an asshole.”
Hereyebrows shoot up like that’s a shocking revelation. “You’retalking about my father,Walker.”
Oh,I’mnot having that. “Andyou’re the first person to say your parents have only ever been focused on your sister and you could have been shooting up crack at the dinner table and they’d never have noticed.”
Sherolls her eyes and snorts.Shecan’t argue with cold, hard facts either. “Well,Idon’t need you watching over me likeI’ma kid.”
“Andwhy has it taken ten years for you to tell me you hate thatIworry about you?”
Sheshrugs and looks down at her bare foot as she runs her toe back and forth along one of the floorboards. “Iguess it’s usually adorable.Buttonight, it’s annoying.”
Therewe go.Ikissed her on the lips, and everything’s changed.NowI’mannoying andIneed tofuck off.Somuch for my juvenile sense of humor.We’regoing to get to the bottom of this, sort it out, and get back to normal.
“Whythe change?”
Sheturns away and wanders back toward her bathroom, theT-shirt swinging across the backs of her thighs.
“I’mjust tired.It’sbeen a long day.Iended up going to work and helpingLeontake down all theNewYear’sstuff.ThenIstopped in at theBrooklynpub on the way back and helped them too.”
“Ithink we should talk about it before bed,”Itell her.
