Page 95 of That Friendzone Feeling
Idrop my head onto my white knuckles clenched around the steering wheel and close my eyes.Thatwas a lot of new information.
Itreally wasn’t my fault.Ibelieve him.Ibelieve everything he said because he believes it.Heknows it to be true.
Butit’s not like a lifetime of guilt can be wiped away with one conversation.It’sgoing to take some time to process.Andeven longer to get used to.Butmy head is clear enough to accept that it might be possible.Maybea long way in my future.Butpossible.
“Yay!” one of the kids in the driveway shouts.
Ilook up in time to see him catch the ball as it falls through the hoop.
Itake a deep breath and blow it out, long and slow.
I’lllet all that percolate in my head for the night and talk toTomtomorrow when everything he said isn’t still swirling around my brain like it’s a snow globe.
Butone thingIdo know for sure is that talking to him was totally the right decision.IfIhadn’t done that,Iwouldn’t now have the information that might help me shed some of the contents of my sack of guilt.
That’sall thanks toEmily.
Andright now,Ineed to pull myself together and tackle my second decision thatI’malso certain is right.
Iput the car into gear, swing it around, and head back toward the highway.
Mightas well turn on the car radio so music can keep me company.IfIsit here in silence,I’llonly get more and more nervous about what might happen whenIget home.
“Andnow, myTopTenfavorite chart hits of the last year, back to back,” theDJsays. “Startingwith every teenage girl’s favorite—the delicious, delectable, danceableDreamtownBoys.”
“Nothanks, buddy.”
Myfinger hovers over the off switch.It’sthe song that rattled out ofEmily’sheadphones as she danced in the office onNewYear’sEvemorning.
Aflutter ripples my stomach at the memory and rises to my heart.
Ismile, then reach for the volume dial and turn it up.
27
WALKER
“H
ey,”Emilysays, looking over her shoulder from her seat at the kitchen island where she’s working on her laptop.
Sheslides off the stool and walks toward me. “Whydidn’t you tell me where you were going?Iwas worried whenIgot back last night.Thenmore worried when you still weren’t here this morning.”
Myheart flutters at the sight of her, the sound of her.
Idrop my bag inside the front door and untie my sneakers. “Sorry.Itwas a last-minute thing.”
Sheleans against the wall, one socked foot on top of the other, leggings hugging every curve of her thighs and calves.Eventhe oversizedToastedTomatosweatshirt that falls at her hips can’t disguise that she’s not wearing a bra.It’sher typical weekend work-at-home attire.
Herface is bare, fresh, and natural.Shelooks beautiful, delicious, andIwant to taste every inch of her.
“Havefun?”Shetips her head to rest it against the wall.Thepose reveals even more of the smooth neck already on show from her hair being tied up in a ponytail.
“Yeah,Elliotwas there.It’sridiculous thatIsee him more there than here.Ishould make an effort with that.”
“He’sa good guy.Andhe’d be a real catch if he’d get out there and meet new people.Hehas no idea how attractive he is.”
“I’drather not think about the hotness of my cousin, thanks.”Ikick off my shoes and hang up my coat, my hands sweaty with anticipation of starting a conversation that could change the rest of my life.
