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She smiles, and I pretend not to be affected by the pink gloss on her shiny, plump lips. She’s a second look kind of girl. The first look at her is for simple appreciation for the stunner she is. The second look is a realization of what an idiot you were for not looking longer the first time around.
I can’t think of Laney this way because she doesn’t want or need me to. I shouldn’t look at Laney this way because it will lead me back to square one.
And so, I won’t.
I’ve hung out with plenty of girls over the years I’ve been attracted to. I convinced myself, when Nora dragged me by the balls through razorblades while sprinkling salt over her shoulder, that I would never let myself be friend-zoned by any woman I had real feelings for. If the attraction wasn’t mutual, I had to move on. But Laney is different in the fact she’s been completely upfront. No mixed signals. We met at the same crossroads and that, in and of itself, makes her valuable to me as a friend more than anything else. I push all those self-sabotaging—Laney is hot as hell—thoughts away and get immersed in my reading when I smell the sunshine on her skin and feel the heat of her face next to mine. “So, what are you reading?”
I jerk my tablet away, just as she takes a closer look and narrows her eyes. “Oh my God!” She jumps from the couch, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You jerk. You do not take your studies seriously! You’re reading a Jack Reacher book!”
“And now everyone knows it.” I swallow audibly and stand as eyes from every direction turn our way and laughter follows. “I had ten pages left, no big deal, but, hey Laney,” I widen my eyes, “we can go now.” I grip her arm, while I shoulder my bag before escorting her out of the room. “You ass. You’re an ass. A total ass!”
“Better than being a DICK,” I mutter, trying to hide my grin.
I got to finish those ten pages, well actually Laney read them to me as I drove. I have to say with her thick twang narrating, it was by far the most interesting ending of a Lee Child book I’ve ever experienced. When she declared favor for favor and insisted we go to ‘Monday Church’, I had no choice but to obey.
Shaking my head, I stare at her as she douses her taco with more sour cream and a ketchup packet she’d pulled out from her purse.
I can’t hide my grimace. “That’s not right.”
“Look,” she says, licking the ketchup/sour cream combo off the side of the taco as I try to hold my gag, “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Hear me now. I will never try it.”
She rolls her eyes and mmm’s with exaggeration as she takes a mammoth bite.
“So why is this Monday church?”
“Dorito shell tacos, the Lort sent these to me,” she proclaims over a mouth full.
“The Lort?”
“Lor-t,” she repeats slowly, as if it will give me some clarification.
“Ah, got it now,” I spout with pure sarcasm.
She ignores it. “Of course, you do, because we’re meant to be friends. You get me.” She leans in with a sinister grin. There’s that word again. I make it a point to stop any notice of my unexpected attraction to her then and there.
“You don’t scare easily, do you, Theo?”
“No, I don’t scare easily.”
“Good,” she says, swallowing the last of her taco. I have to admit the woman has eating down to a science. “So, I have an idea for my project.”
“Yeah?”
“We make a dedicated page being completely honest and see if it trends.”
“What do you mean we?”
“We,” she says, pointing between us, “meaning you and me.”
I cross my arms. “No.”
“Already started it while you were reading Jack.”
“Are you serious?”
She shrugs. “Yes. It’s all set up. The handle is @livingmyrealestlife. Technically it’s your idea, so I can’t take all the credit. I already texted you the login info.”
