Page 20 of The Friend Zone

My laugh made the bartender turn around. “I don’t need your guest room. But thanks for the offer. I’ll keep that in mind. She’s in the bathroom.”

“You’re calling me while she’s in the bathroom? Oh my God, you’re bored as fuck.”

I chuckled. “I just spent twenty minutes listening to the benefits of an organic, vegan diet. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m craving pepperoni now. I’m, like, ten minutes from you. Want to share a pizza in a half an hour?”

“I could eat.”

I grinned. The color pink approached from my peripheral vision. “Text me what you want on your pizza,” I whispered. “Gotta go.” I hung up and swiveled back to my date. “I just got called in.” I pulled out my wallet and put a few bills on the bar. “I’m sorry to have to take off on you.”

She looked disappointed, but she seemed to believe me, which at the very least lessened my guilt at running out on her. I should have never asked her out in the first place. I just wasn’t ready. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I picked up a pizza and some Stone Brewing dark ale and headed to Kristen’s, actually looking forward to going back over.

It occurred to me that this was what I should have been doing tonight from the very beginning. I didn’t have to work at hanging out with her.

When Kristen opened the door holding Stuntman Mike, she was in curlers.

If I ever had any question whether she was remotely into me, her complete and utter lack of an attempt to impress me was the answer. She did not give a fuck.

I actually liked that she was herself in front of me. But the implication didn’t thrill me. It meant her feelings toward me were totally platonic. For all intents and purposes, I might as well have been the gay friend, or a brother or something. I was friend zoned, hard, and this was the proof. The more I got to know her, the more this bothered me.

She must really be serious about Tyler.

She plopped down onto the couch and put her laptop on her lap. “Wanna watch something?”

After moving her neat invoice pile, I set the pizza down on the coffee table. “Sure.” I sat down next to her and opened a beer for her.

There was something intimate about being in her house at night. The energy was different. The light was dimmer, and things seemed quieter. And I wasn’t there to work, which was a definite change in dynamic.

She took the beer I opened for her. “Thanks.” She gave me the remote. “I’ve gotta finish this billing though.”

“How about Death Proof ?” I asked, opening the lid on the pizza box. “You’ve already seen it, so you won’t miss anything.”

“Perfect.”

I scrolled through Netflix and found it. We sat there with Stuntman Mike between us wearing his BITCHES LOVE ME shirt, drinking beer and eating pizza through the first half hour of it. Then she did a final tap on her laptop and shut the lid.

“So what was wrong with her?” she asked, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Who?”

“Your date.”

I shrugged. “Nothing in common. And I’m just not ready to date, I think.”

“Then why’d you ask her?” She looked at me, balancing her beer on her thigh.

“She was a yoga instructor. Yoga pants.” I bounced my eyebrows.

“Well, you are an ass-man.”

“Plus, I was being mobbed. I panicked.”

She snorted. “Do you realize how bendy she probably was?” She took a swallow of her beer. “You messed up, dude.”

I smiled, putting my beer to my lips. “Eh, I’ll be all right. Besides, women like that are too much work. The better looking they are, the crazier they are.” I’d had far too much experience with this.

“That’s not a universal rule. Sloan is hardly crazy at all and look at her.”