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Alana: I’m getting nervous. I just don’t want her to be disappointed
Me: I won’t disappoint her
Never. She’s my best friend in the world, dammit.
Me: Stop worrying
I hurry inside the gas station’s convenience store, using the restroom then browsing the sad-looking shelves and trying to decide whether I should grab anything else for Meghan.
I pause in the meager wine section and pick up a bottle of red that looks decent. I grab some soda, too, in case she’s not in the mood to drink alcohol tonight. I march dutifully past the dozen different brands of condoms, willing myself not to even take a peek. But when I’m halfway down the aisle, something draws my eyes back to the condom display.
Heat throbs in my crotch. Damn. It’s been a while.
Stop it, asshole.
Meghan is my friend, and I don’t want to show up and make things weird with her tonight, especially on her thirtieth birthday.
I want to simply enjoy catching up. Hanging out together. Like always. Like friends.
It’s just everyone else messing with my head, and making me lose my cool.
Have I ever imagined sex with Meghan? Sure. Yes. A time or two. Or twenty…thousand. I mean, Meghan’shot.
But I’m no fool. I’d never compromise our friendship just for a chance to get in her pants. Finding a woman to have meaningless sex with is relatively easy. If I really want to get laid, I don’t have to try that hard. But a friendship like the one I have with Meghan? That’s one in a billion. I could never put a price tag on it. And there’s no way I’m doing anything to put it in jeopardy.
Giggles and shrieks from the front of the store grab my attention. As I approach the checkout, I see three girls in gas station uniforms eyeballing my Audi out the window.
Shit—the rain is already coming down heavier than when I walked in.
The girl with the short red ponytail winks at me as I set down my goods on the counter. “Nice ride, mister.”
I scan the chocolate selection in front of the register, too distracted by my plans for tonight to pay this girl the attention she’s so clearly seeking. “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing a bag of gas station brand peanut butter cups. Meghan’s favorite.
A girl with mischievous eyes and straight black hair leans across the counter, exposing her cleavage. “Need some company tonight?” She smiles at me.
I don’t bother to smile back.
The tallest of the girls walks up, slinging an arm over each of her friends. She attempts to sweeten the deal. “If they say three’s a crowd, thenfourmust be the magic number.” She counts each of us in turn with subtle flicks of her chin.
Wow. Classy.
Thankfully, the suggestive comments come to a halt when their manager pops out of the back room holding a clip board. She rolls her eyes at her workers. “He has a girlfriend, you thirsty vultures.” The woman turns a tired smile at me. “Hey, Cash.”
“Hey.” I recognize her as someone I went to high school with. For the life of me, I can never remember her name.
“You have a girlfriend?” The redhead pouts in my direction.
The manager answers for me. “Yes. Meghan. The cute vet technician who always comes in here. Everybody in town knows that.”
Um…everybody in town knows that? Looks like the rumors about my love life extend well beyond the Chicago city limits.
Three pairs of eager eyes stare at me, waiting for my corroboration.
“Yeah,” I confirm. Just to get these thirsty girls off my back. Meanwhile, inside my head I’m repeating my decade-old mantra.Best friend, not girlfriend. Best friend.
“Aww. That’s too bad,” the black-haired girl chirps with a fake pout. “Your girlfriend is so lucky.” She looks ready to throw in the towel.Thank god.
“Well, don’t keep her waiting.” The redhead grins, shooing me toward the door. “Go! Go!”
