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“You don’t see women for more than one night,” she points out. “So no you don’t. You only see women on their best behavior. It’s not until we’ve been dating somebody for months that we actually let them see what we’re really like.”
“Well I’m your friend,” I tell her. “So you can be as make up free whenever you want to.”
She lets out a breath. “Can you stop bouncing between sweet and asshole, please? Because that’s more attractive than you think.”
I blink. She’s finding me attractive?
“Show me,” I say. “And I’ll give you an honest friend opinion on how enticing you look makeup free.”
“You’re not going to stop until I do, are you?”
“I guess I’ll fall asleep eventually,” I tell her. “But I’m intrigued. I really want to know. And maybe you do, too.”
“Maybe…” she trails off. I tell myself to let it go, so I think about a subject change.
And then the video icon comes up.
I accept it with unseemly haste. The screen flickers and then there she is. Her hair pulled back with some tendrils escaping. But it’s her face that I look at. There’s not enough light for my liking – she must have a side lamp on – but I can still see those pretty eyes and her full pink mouth.
“You look incredible,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.
“Shut up. You’re my friend not my cheerleader.” Her lashes sweep down. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Weird how much that pleases me.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask her.
“Talking to you.”
I laugh. “Before I called. What were you doing then?”
“I’m watching this documentary about a bank robbery gone wrong while I’m doing some work.” She looks almost embarrassed. “Where are you?” she asks.
“In the car going back to my place.”
“You’re not driving?”
“Nope. Had some wine with my mom. Anyway, it’s easier to be driven than to drive in Manhattan.”
“I get that. The last time I went to New York I almost got run over.”
My chest tightens. “You did? Where?”
“In Times Square.” She looks almost embarrassed. “I was distracted by this huge poster of McDreamy. I guess that tells you how long ago it was.”
“McDreamy? Who’s that?”
Her mouth drops open. “You don’t know who McDreamy is? Seriously?” She sounds appalled.
“Is it some kind of McDonald’s ice cream?”
She collapses into a fit of giggles. And I laugh too because her amusement is infectious.
“McDreamy is a character inGrey’s Anatomy,” she says once she gotten control of herself. A lock of hair has fallen out of her bun and she sweeps it back. “Played by Patrick Dempsey. Don’t tell me you’ve never watched it.”
“Never,” I admit. “Don’t hate me.”
“We need to rectify this. You need to be educated on the show. It’s a huge gaping hole in your repertoire. How do you get girls if you don’t know who McDreamy is?”
