Page 47 of That Friendzone Feeling
“Yes, that’s whatIsaid.”
“It’snot unreasonable thatIdidn’t realize you were talking about a cab.”Hespeedily tucks himself in his jeans and snatches at the zipper. “Thisis un-fucking-believable.”
“Whichpart?”Ijump off the bench and swipe sawdust from my butt. “Thatyou’ve just experienced a case of ‘cab-us interruptus’?Orthat you jacked off your best pal through her jeans?”
“Well, all of it is pretty fucking remarkable,” he says, helping me out with sawdust removal.
Andthe man who’s always right is correct again.Itis definitely remarkable.Ifsomeone had told me this morning this is how the day would end,Iwould have laughed in their face.
“Comeon,” he says, taking my slightly damp hand and wiping it on his jeans. “Let’sgo get out of these wet clothes.”
AndIhead toward the plastic sheet door, hand in hand with my best friend, whoI’vejust done completely nonplatonic things with, and whoInow know holds a hurt inside him bigger than it’s possible to imagine.
14
EMILY
“T
hanks,Joe,”Walkersays, handing the taxi driver a handful of bills. “Andthanks for stopping soIcould pick this up.”Hetaps the overnight bag, which we collected from the rental car, on his lap.
Gettinga good look at the hatchback from the cab whileWalkerran over to grab his things made me feel sick to my stomach.Itwas way worse than it had seemed in the moment.ButIguessIwas a bit wrapped up in kissingWalker, and when we got out, we didn’t exactly hang around in the pouring rain to examine the damage—we just hit the road toward a phone signal as fast as we could.
Butit was obvious how close we’d come to disaster.Thefront corner on the driver’s side was buried in the stone wall.Severalrocks had fallen on top of the hood.Andthat metal pole, whatever it was, was bent almost to a ninety-degree angle, and we’re so lucky it didn’t pierce the windshield.
Walkerhad been shaken by it being so close to me, butit could so easily have been him too.Whatthe hell wouldIdo without him?Justthe thought of losing him splinters my heart.He’sbeen my person for everything this last decade.Andin the last hour he’s become my more-than-everything person.
Butwhat if it had been me?Ican’t remember the last timeIhad a fun conversation with my parents orSara.That’snot howI’dwant them to remember me.
Acold shudder passes through me as the thoughts race through my mind.
“Okay,Em?”Walkerasks, his head turned over the back of the passenger seat to look at me.
“Sorry.Yes.I’mfine.”ItapJoeon the shoulder. “Andthanks for helping with the car.”TurnsoutJoe’sbrother-in-law runs the rental office, andJoeoffered to talk to him about picking up our wrecked vehicle. “Tellhim to let me know if he needs info for the insurance or anything else from me.”
“Willdo,”Joesays. “Youguys had a lucky escape.Goget into some dry clothes before you catch your death of cold.”
Wesay our goodnights toJoeand meet at the path that leads to the entrance ofTheIslandInn.Aswe make our way toward the door,Walkertakes my hand.
Mystomach doesn’t know what to do—flip at the excitement of his touch or sink with the dread of the giant risk we’re taking.
Thecab ride back across the island was like a cold shower.Andthe reality of what we’d done started to sink in.
OrshouldIsay, the reality of whatIhad done.PoorWalkerwas left hanging there, so to speak.Nowonder hecan’t get enough of the hand-holding—he must be desperate for a release.
I, however, had an orgasm so mind-blowing it could see me through an extremely long dry spell.Andthere wasn’t even any flesh-on-flesh contact or any part of him inside any part of me.Christ, if that’s what this man can do to me through my clothing, what the hell would it be like if the fabulous part of himIhad in my hands got anywhere near where it actually belongs?
Belongs.
Jesus.Icannot start thinking like that.Ican’t let myself believeWalkerbelongs inside me.Eventhough less than an hour ago he’d worked me into such a frenzyIwould have given my right arm, my left arm, both legs, and my share of the business to have him there.
Heholds the front door open, then follows me in, letting go of my hand to reach for his wallet and give the woman behind the front desk his credit card.Shegives him a coy smile and giggles.Women’seyes have always lingered on him.I’venever fully appreciated why, maybe because since the dayImet himI’vebeen able to look at him wheneverIwant.
SinceNewYear’sEve, however,I’vestarted to see what they’re looking at.Ofcourse,I’vealways known he’s handsome—more than ever now that he’s lost the beard—and his body has always been objectively amazing.Butlooking at him has never stirred me the way it has since he planted his lips on mine at the stroke of midnight.
“Thanks,”Walkersays with a smile as he takes his card and room key from the receptionist.
“You’reon the second floor.Nearyour”—her eyes flick to me for a second—“friend?”
