Page 33 of The Little Black Book

“Sounds like fun,” I say, nodding.

“Yes,” he says, pumping a fist in the air. “Pick you up here at noon? We can hit the twelve-thirty showing atThe Luxeand gorge on popcorn and candy for lunch.”

“I have my car. I’ll meet you there at twelve-fifteen,” I say quickly.

Thankfully, he nods in agreement. Having him pick me up would feel too much like a date. I need the lines to be clear and sturdy.

“It’s a date,” he says, pushing himself to his feet and gathering his trash to throw in the receptacle. “See you later, Z.”

I watch him stroll out, dread weighing heavily in my stomach. My heart fluttered when he said the word “date,” then again when he called me “Z.”

It is not a date. It is not. A. Date.

I stand and, pulling a rag from my back pocket, wipe down the table. I know his wording was just a figure of speech. We’ll be two friends, just hanging out and seeing a movie.

Everything is going to be fine. Just fine.

Chapter12

It was an Accident

Sam

This was a great idea. All I need is to spend some time with Zoey. A casual afternoon, watching a movie and hanging out to reinforce what I know to be true––my body’s reaction to her nearness last night was a fluke. The alcohol made me too loose. A woman’s body rubbing against mine made me erect. It wasn’t that it was Zoey, herself. No. It would’ve happened with any beautiful woman.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself since our conversation earlier when she agreed to meet up with me for this “friend date.” And as I pace in front of the movie theater’s entrance, I sincerely start to wonder if I’ve made a mistake. That maybe this little excursion is too much like arealdate, and sitting in the dark for two hours with Zoey will lead to nothing but more confusion.

I look up to see her walking toward me, and the tension coiling in my gut releases in an instant. I lift a hand to wave at her, and she returns the gesture with a bright smile.

This wasn’t a mistake. Hanging out with Zoey is the most natural thing in the world because we’re such good friends. She’s mybestfriend, next to Jared. Of course, he’s spending most of his free time with Sophie these days, so Zoey isthisclose to surpassing him on the friendship charts.

“Hey,” she says as she stops before me. “Did you get the tickets, yet?”

Pulling my hand from my pocket, I hold up two paper slips and grin. “Back row, center.”

She returns my smile and snatches the tickets from my hand. “You know me so well.”

Zoey likes to sit in the back row because she hates having people behind her, kicking her seat, talking, and pushing her forward as they squeeze past other patrons’ legs while moving down the aisle. She told me that a few months ago when Ava was giving her shit and saying she likes the back so she can make out with her dates.

But I’m not going to think of that right now.

I’m going to focus on having some straightforward, platonic fun with my best friend while proving to myself that there’s nothing to be confused or concerned about.

We load up on popcorn, chocolate, sour gummies, and soda before finding our seats. Luckily, no one else is in our row. I set the bucket of popcorn in the chair beside me while I get settled, and Zoey passes me the box of chocolate-covered peanuts I’d ordered. She rips into her sour gummies, popping one into her mouth before motioning for me to hand her the popcorn. I pass it over, and she cradles it in her lap as upcoming movie trailers start to play.

By the time our movie finally starts, we’ve eaten half the popcorn and most of our candy. Zoey and I lean back and settle in, our eyes on the screen. The film is as funny as the commercials promised, and I quickly realize Zoey and I are laughing at all the same jokes.

I look at her profile and smile before returning my gaze to the screen. I feel so comfortable with her. Settled, like there’s no place I’d rather be, nor anyone else whom I’d prefer to bearound. What we have is easy and perfect, without all the angst, tension, and uncertainty of a romantic relationship.

Now, if I could just stop obsessing over our friendship and enjoy it, everything would be perfect.

I reach over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket in Zoey’s lap, but because I’m still looking at the movie screen, my fingers miss the rim, completely. Instead, the back of my hand brushes against something warm, soft, and decidedly round in shape.

Zoey inhales sharply just before I snatch my hand back, my knuckle brushing against her nipple in the process. She gasps again, and I drop my hand into my lap and mumble an apology as my entire body heats up.

Don’t think about how hard her nipple is. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s just cold. Or it was a natural response to something touching it. It had nothing to do with you.

After a few beats, Zoey laughs at the movie like nothing happened. The tension drains out of me, and I relax back into my chair as she leans in my direction.

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