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She was so nice about the whole thing that I resolved to read the book quickly and then pass it on directly to her, instead of returning it to the library and letting them notify the waitlist. Two days later, after I’d stayed up late devouring the book, I’d knocked on her front door, and when she answered it, I handed her the book. “It was awesome,” I’d said, probably jittering with extreme fantasy-nerd excitement.
“Cool,” Ainsley said, and then invited me in. She made us PB&Js with apple slices, told me about her fascination with Faramir, showed me her very own wizard wand (pearwood with a unicorn-hair core, 11" and rather bendy), and told me she’d always wanted a friend to discuss books with.
The rest, as they say: history.
We never dated. Early on, I wasn’t interested in her as a girl; I needed her too much as a friend. Later still, too conscious of my ridiculous hair and my teenage dad-bod, I was scared to ask her out. Still later, she was dating handsome, popular guys. By the time I got serious about myself in college, learned about nutrition and took up running, lost my excess weight, she was still taken and I started dating other girls.
I learned a lot from those other girls: how to treat them. How to be honest. How to listen. How to make love. But none of them made me feel the way Ainsley did.
It seemed like we were never single at the same time. I’d been in the process of mustering my courage and asking her out…when she called me all excited and told me she’d just had a date with a guy who might be “the one.”
Fucking hell, I’d missed my chance again.
It didn’t help that I didn’t even like Jake. I thought he was self-centered; worse, he was taking advantage of Ains. He got her to do a lot of stuff for him that he thought he was too important to bother with, and he was, in my opinion, overly concerned with her appearance. God forbid she wore her hair in a messy bun or a ponytail; he liked it when she spent time curling it or putting it up in a complicated updo. He had no patience for spending time with her funny, warm-hearted Aunt Nell. And every time he took Ainsley to yet another charity ball thing, he’d insist that she needed a new evening dress (but never offered to pay for it).
Bastard. She’s better off without him.
In fact, she’d be way better off with me.
And I intend to show her that during this vacation. This is my big chance to demonstrate that I don’t deserve the friend zone.
