The Friend Zone

by Abby Jimenez

  I hoped she was a nightmare the whole time.

  “He kinda fed me.” She grimaced. “I had some deconstructed Chilean sea bass ceviche tapenade thingy.”

  I scoffed. “Is that even food?”

  “I have no idea. I’m starving,” she mumbled, turning for the house.

  It hadn’t gone well. That was obvious. And they’d just been at a restaurant, like I thought—a shitty restaurant that she didn’t like, on top of it. He hadn’t scored himself any points with that rookie move.

  Hope swelled inside me. Maybe this was the last we’d see of Tyler.

  Still, she was down.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, standing.

  She stopped with her back to me and let her head loll. “Fine.” She paused for a moment. “He asked me to marry him.”

  The punch to my heart knocked the wind out of me. What?

  I was grateful she wasn’t looking at me because she would have seen it on my face. I couldn’t catch my breath. I almost couldn’t compose myself to answer.

  I cleared my throat. “Oh yeah? What did you say?”

  She waited a beat until she replied, talking over her shoulder. “I said maybe.”

  * * *

  While she changed, I made her a sandwich—no mayo, only one piece of ham, provolone, no crust—the way she liked it. I handed it to her wrapped in a paper towel when she came out of her room. She looked like she wanted to cry when she took it from me. I hated seeing her so upset.

  We called an Uber so we could drink.

  And drink I planned to fucking do.

  I said maybe.

  He wanted to marry her and she was actually considering it. I felt sick.

  In the Uber, she sat next to me with her leg tucked under her in the back seat, her knee poking through the ragged hole of her jeans. She’d done her makeup. She gazed wearily out the window.

  I stared at her hand on the seat. Her ring finger was bare. For now. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

  She looked over at me. “You want to talk to me about my boyfriend?”

  Boyfriend. She called him her boyfriend. Not ex-boyfriend. Boyfriend.

  The knife twisted in my heart, but through sheer will I managed to keep my voice level. “Sure. I might be able to give you some insight.”

  I was torn between wanting to remain blissfully ignorant and needing to be informed. Morbid curiosity won out. I reasoned that whatever was going to happen would happen whether I knew the details or not. And if she talked to me about it, maybe I could sway her decision in my favor.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, he reenlisted. Only this time he won’t be in war zones. He’ll be translating for dignitaries and high-ranking military personnel.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Translating?”

  “Yeah. He’s a linguist. He’s fluent in nine languages—ten. Maybe now it’s ten. He said he’s studying Mandarin. I don’t know.”

  Jesus Christ. How had Brandon failed to mention that this joker wasn’t some infantryman doing grunt work? He was smart, educated, and good-looking to boot?

  Fucking Brandon. His penchant for understating things was killing me. I was completely unprepared for this guy.

  So that’s why the Ice Queen liked him. I looked like a damn fuckboy next to Tyler. No wonder Kristen didn’t want anything serious with me.

  “He wants me to marry him. We’d move overseas.” Her eyes flitted up to mine.

  My stomach lurched. “And you said maybe?”

  “I said I would think about it.”

  I scratched my cheek, trying to act like none of this bothered me while inside I was losing my fucking mind. “What are your reservations?”

  She didn’t answer me.

  “Sloan would miss you if you moved,” I said. Not to mention what it would do to me.

  But she just took a deep breath and looked away from me.

  She gazed out the window, and I stared at her watching the road. When she turned back to me, her eyes were full of tears. Then she unbuckled herself, slid across the seat, and climbed into my lap.

  My heart jumped at the unexpected affection. I pulled her in and tucked her head under my chin, breathing in the smell of her hair. The feel of her small, warm body in my arms was like home. There was no other word for it.

  She was home.

  It was hard to see how much he affected her. This was the second time I’d seen her crying and both times had been over him.

  The jealousy was almost more than I could handle.

  This woman was mine. She was mine, not his. Why couldn’t he have stayed away from her? Let her just get over him?

  But then I realized the truth. She wasn’t mine—she never was.

  I’m hers.

  And it’s not the same thing.

  I’d been fine being patient, because I was just waiting for her to come out of it. I hadn’t been braced for him to come back into her life. And now, faced with the reality that I might lose her altogether, I realized what I’d known for weeks.

  I’m in love with her.

  And now this guy that I couldn’t even begin to compete with might take her from me.

  I felt helpless. Panicked. A fight response triggered inside and it had nowhere to go, because I couldn’t do shit about this. All I could do was be me, and that wasn’t good enough.

  A sex thing. It will only ever be a sex thing.

  She raised her head and planted a soft kiss under my chin, and it almost broke my fucking heart. She was never like this with me. And as much as I loved it, it was all fueled by her feelings for someone else. He hurt her and I was here, so I got to be the one to comfort her.

  But it was something. At least I could do something for her beyond just scratching an itch.

  She was with me, holding me. Letting me hold her. I needed to enjoy the moment because I didn’t know how many more of them I’d get.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and forced down the lump in my throat, tried to focus on her breath on my neck, her cheek pressed to my collarbone—the vulnerability she was giving me that I only ever saw when she was sleeping curled up next to me on those nights when she let me in.

  I vowed to make tonight fun so she’d forget.

  And so I’d have something to remember when she left.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Kristen

  I stumbled off the stage, laughing hysterically. Josh caught me at the bottom of the steps as I collided with his chest. I felt the rumble of his laughter through his T-shirt.

  He wore the shirt I’d stolen from him the day we met. The brewery one. It looked so good on him. His broad back, his tapered waist, the fabric tight over his contoured chest. I took a deep breath and tried to capture the scent I’d smelled that day when I wore it, that masculine cedar that was Josh. Once I had it, I held my breath, not wanting to let it go.

  I’d had a smidge too much to drink.

  We’d taken a shot before we went on, and I had already been two beers in. We’d just rapped “No Diggity” together, and I’d cracked up through half of it. Josh was pretty good. He did dance moves and everything.

  I slipped my arms around his waist, hooking my fingers behind his back, and he held me to him, smiling down at me.

  I put my chin to his chest. “I’m only hugging you because those cougars over there have their eye on you,” I lied. “It’s my duty as your friend to protect you from impending cougar attacks.”

  He chuckled. “Thanks for clearing that up. I was afraid for a second there you were hugging me for real.”

  I would do everything with you. For real.

  “I have a confession,” I said, gazing up at him. “I don’t really think you’re a bad driver.”

  He gave me an amused smile.

  “What?” I bit my lip.

  “I’m just thinking about something Shawn said the other day. That drunks and leggings always tell the truth.”

  I snorted. “I am not drunk. I’m just talking in cursive. And Shawn is an i
diot. Have you ever had the urge to tell someone to shut the fuck up when they aren’t even talking? That’s how I feel literally every time I see his face.” I narrowed my eyes. “Although, there is some truth to that legging thing…”

  He laughed, the smile creasing his eyes at the corners.

  I pushed my lip out into a pout. “Josh? I need hot wings.”

  He released me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  We walked back to our red booth to a poorly sung Lola Simone song, and he placed an order.

  I took a long drink of my beer. “Why do guys always sit facing the door?” I asked, licking my lips.

  He smiled at me. “Do we?” He looked over my shoulder at the entrance. “Huh. I guess we do. Maybe it’s some protective instinct. So I can keep an eye out for danger. Keep my sword arm free to protect you.” His dimples flashed.

  God.

  Tyler was handsome in a chiseled sort of way. Like a model in a black-and-white cologne commercial. But Josh. Oh God—Josh. He melted me. He was a teddy bear. A warm, gorgeous, delicious piece of everything.

  I wished I could let him in. Let him be my boyfriend if he wanted to. He’d said the morning after we’d first hooked up that we could be exclusive. He would. He wanted to.

  He would lock the house up before bed and kiss me good night. He’d throw his shirts on my chair and I wouldn’t even complain about it. Stuntman could sleep with us because he likes Josh. And when he went to work, I could text him and tell him I miss him, and he would say it back, and if I got mouthy, he’d just laugh at me and handle me like he always did. He just let my moods roll off him, like nothing about me scared him, and it made me feel like I could be myself around him. Like the only time I really was myself was when I was around him.

  Maybe I should marry Tyler.

  I mean, why should everyone be miserable, right? If I married Tyler, he would be happy, Mom would be happy. Josh would move on to fertile pastures and have a million babies. And I’d be with someone that I cared about who could maybe distract me from the broken heart I was going to carry for the rest of my life.

  Tyler and I got along. It wouldn’t be bad. It wouldn’t be me and Josh, but there wasn’t going to be a me and Josh, so didn’t I have to consider my alternatives? And Tyler knew I was in love with Josh. He knew what he was asking when he proposed.

  My best friend would never talk to me again, and my dog would probably run away. With Josh.

  I wondered if Tyler would eat hot wings and drink beer with me.

  Probably not.

  “You know what you need, Josh? One of those women who smiles when she talks.”

  He laughed. “What?”

  “You know, one of those really sweet women who’s always smiling. They make great mothers. They’re supportive and they rub your back when you’ve had a bad day. They smell like cookies and they get laugh lines and wear scarves to the grocery store.”

  “I think you’re drunk.” His eyes sparkled.

  I was drunk.

  He grinned at me. “I like you like this.”

  “I have to tell you something.” I made my face serious. “You can’t make fun of me.”

  He sat up and made his face straight too. “What?”

  “Earlier? Tyler took me back to his hotel room.”

  The humor in Josh’s eyes evaporated instantly.

  “No. Not that. We didn’t do that.” I waved him off. “He had this whole romantic setup. When we got there, he had champagne and rose petals and candles all over. Everywhere.”

  The levity returned to his eyes. “Ouch.”

  “Yup. I got outta there. It really freaked me out. Because you know why?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “He should know. He should know I wouldn’t like that, right? That means something, doesn’t it?”

  His expression grew a little serious. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Am I a bitch? I am, huh? That was really sweet, and I should have appreciated that. I am a bitch. I knew it.”

  He chuckled. “No. You’re honest.” He shook his head and talked into his beer. “And he did it all wrong.”

  I smirked. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He put his glass down. “Let me guess—the ring was huge. Big rock?”

  “Oh my God, Josh, you don’t even know. It was enormous. He designed it and had it made. It had this red rope of rubies around the band and…” I took a deep breath remembering it. He’d spent a fortune on it and I’d hated it. It was so gaudy. “Why? What kind of ring should he have gotten me?”

  “None. You’d want to pick your own ring. You’d probably say something like, ‘I’m the one who has to look at it for the next fifty years.’ I would have taken you to buy it instead of just springing it on you.”

  “How do you know I wouldn’t like a ring sprung on me?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  He scoffed. “The only thing you like sprung on you are snacks. You have an opinion about everything. You’re also really practical. You’d probably pick something reasonable. No diamonds. I’m thinking an etched band. Nothing that would need to be repaired or cleaned or that you’d have to take off to do the dishes.” He regarded me for a moment. “Something personal engraved inside. Something only the two of you would get.”

  He knows me. He knows me almost better than I know myself.

  I had to press my lips together to keep my face straight. I changed the subject. “You know what I like about you, Josh?”

  “My way with small, vicious dogs?”

  I snorted. “I like that you don’t do that guy thing where you try and solve all my problems. Guys do that. Sometimes we just want to complain. That’s it. We don’t want advice. We just want you to listen. You’re a good listener.”

  He fiddled with a coaster and his smile sank a little. “I would try and solve all your problems.” His eyes came back up to mine. “If you wanted me to.”

  God, yes, I want you to. But you can’t and you never will.

  The waitress delivered our wings.

  “I’m double dipping,” I said, grabbing a celery stick. “If you can’t handle that, get your own ranch.”

  “I think we’re slightly past that, don’t you?” He dunked a drumstick, took a bite, and then dunked it again. “So when does he need his answer by?”

  I nibbled on the end of my celery, not looking directly at him. “He’s here for two weeks. So I guess before he leaves.”

  He spoke to the basket of wings. “What are you leaning toward?”

  Someone started singing “Push It.” “Josh! Let’s dance. Will you?”

  If he knew I changed the subject on purpose, he didn’t let on. He wiped his hands with a napkin. “Sure.”

  We walked out into the thin crowd of people in front of the stage and started to dance.

  He hadn’t been kidding about having moves. He was as good on the floor as he was in bed. We danced for three songs, laughing the whole time.

  Then someone started singing a really horrible rendition of John Legend’s “All of Me.” The woman singing it was even drunker than I was.

  Josh and I looked at each other and wordlessly moved together. I wrapped my arm around his neck and he held my other hand over his heart. He was still a little out of breath, and his chest rose and fell against my palm.

  I’m in love with you.

  The impulse hit me so hard and fast, I didn’t even see it coming.

  I’m so in love with you.

  How easily this came to me. With Tyler, the question was murky and confusing. But with Josh, it was clear. I was in love with him. And I was in love with him in a “we were made for each other” kind of way.

  But we weren’t though, right? Because how could I be made for him when my body couldn’t give him children?

  My eyes started to tear up, and he dipped his head to look at me. “Hey, shhhh. I know what happened today was hard.”

  He kissed my forehead, so tenderly, and I felt simultaneously better and worse.

  I shoo
k my head and buried my face in his chest. He didn’t have the first clue.

  When I looked back up, his concerned face hovered over mine. I wanted to stand on my toes and kiss him. Or let him kiss me. I wanted him to be the one to ask me to marry him. If I could be with him, I’d say yes to him in a heartbeat, even if he did it in some cringey, cheesy way. Even if there were rose petals all over the fucking house.

  God, wouldn’t we be something? If it wasn’t for that one thing. That one thing that was everything.

  For a moment, in my drunken state, I thought I could tell him. I could just blurt out the truth about everything. Get it out of me, put it in his hands, let him figure out what to do with it. And then maybe it wouldn’t feel so heavy. Maybe he would be okay with it and he’d—

  He’d what, Kristen? Settle? He’d give up his dreams for you?

  “I’m so selfish,” I whispered.

  He put his cheek to mine and spoke into my ear. “You’re not. You’re wonderful. And you look really beautiful tonight.”

  I sniffed and tilted my head back to look him in the eye. “You know why I always looked like a slob around you? Because I liked you.”

  He pulled his face back a little and his eyes went wide.

  “Yeah. I felt guilty that I liked you so much when I had a boyfriend. So I always tried to look bad in front of you so you wouldn’t know.”

  He beamed down on me. “So the mud mask and the curlers and that nose strip thing—”

  “All proof of my enormous lady boner for you.”

  My buzz made me careless.

  And I couldn’t care less.

  “Wow,” he said, looking reflective. “You must have really liked me. You didn’t brush your hair for two days in a row once.”

  I launched into giggles and he laughed with me, putting his forehead to mine. “And I still thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing him in, feeling his breath on my face. I wanted to hold this moment in suspended animation. These tender stolen seconds. My forehead pressed to his, his warm hand over mine, his heart beating against my palm. Him slowly turning me on a dance floor, telling me I’m beautiful.