Page 49 of Where Roads Lead

“It’s actually a very big one,” she said, dragging the seatbelt across her waist. “Come on. Think about it. There’s Autumn in New York, Sleepless in Seattle. Ooh, When Harry Met Sally!”

“I think I’ve seen that one,” I said, pulling us out of the parking lot and back onto route. “It has Billy Crystal in it, right?”

“Yeah.” She grinned, pleased by the bare-bones of my movie knowledge. “I mean, I don’t fully buy into the whole message of the movie, but it’s so funny that I give it a pass.”

“What’s the message of the movie?”

“That men and women can’t really be friends because one of them will always want to sleep with the other.”

“What?” I asked. “I don’t remember that part.”

“It’s a pretty big part of the movie, Will,” she retorted. “Dare I say the foundation of its whole structure?”

I scoffed. “Well, that’s clearly not true.”

“What, you don’t think it’s the message of the movie?”

“No,” I clarified. “I mean, the thing about how men and women can’t be friends. That’s bullshit.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes narrowing in surprise. “Well, I agree with you.”

“That’s a first.”

“So, as a man, you think men and women can be friends without attraction playing any part in it?”

“Of course.” I cleared my throat, staring out at the road. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“I mean, I guess it is.” She shrugged casually. “I mean, you and I are kind of friends now, and it’s extremely clear you’re not attracted to me.”

“What?” My head snapped to look at her, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation took. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Did I offend you by referring to us as friends? Should I clarify that we’re not friends, but just two people on friendly-ish terms?”

“I—”

“I mean, you do keep showing up to help me. I’d consider that pretty friendly-ish.”

“Stop saying friendly-ish,” I said dumbly.

She shrugged, content to let the conversation die, but it was still churning around in my mind, unsettling me.

“How do you know I’m not attracted to you?” I asked, and then, feeling like I was close to admitting something, scrambled to add, “I just mean that seems like the type of thing you can’t be sure about unless someone tells you one way or the other.”

She thought about it, looking utterly unaware of the mayhem she’d thrown my mind into.

“Well, you never flirted with me.”

“Why would I?”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Because you’re not attracted to me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t attracted to her, because despite my best efforts, that would be a lie.

And I certainly wasn’t about to tell her I was.

Because even if I was, that didn’t mean I could pursue any type of relationship with her.

The two of us would never work in any semblance of the word.