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I cross my arms, irritated he’d ask for a do-over after abandoning me for a hookup. Irritated I already have plans. And of course, irritated at myself for having complicated feelings about a man I can never have. “I can’t.”
“Hot date?” he jokes, knowing full well I haven’t been on a date since my cheating ex.
My face flames. “Actually, yeah,” I say because I’m pissed off he left me on our night.
Something flashes in his eyes. Jealousy, maybe. Hurt.
Instead of feeling like I won this round, it feels like I took a punch to the chest.
“Dex?” he asks quietly.
I agreed to meet Dex for a drink after watching Timothy walk away with that woman, but I’ve already decided I’ll cancel. Dex flirted with me, and I flirted back because tonight is supposed to be about having fun and forgetting cheating ex-boyfriends who ruin my birthday, but there was no spark, no need to see Dex again.
I drop my arms to my sides. I don’t want to talk about this now that it feels shitty, so I downplay it. “It’s just a drink.”
Timothy is silent for a moment as he kicks at a few loose pebbles. “He’s a good kid.”
Emphasis onkid. My face goes hotter. Dex is twenty-five, hardly a kid, but I’m thirty-five.
He’s a kid.
Timothy’s face scrunches, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something else. I don’t know, I don’t want to know, but I give him a moment to tell me. If he wants to.
He doesn’t.
The sick feeling in my stomach stops when Timothy steps forward, wrapping me in one of his amazing hugs. I rest my cheek against his chest and squeeze my eyes shut. I want to enjoy the tiny slice of this man that’s always mine, but I can smell her perfume on his shirt and I want to cry.
He kisses my forehead, soft and sweet like I’m something fragile. His lips linger for a few heartbeats and my whole body buzzes, my lips aching for the press of his. I keep my eyes closed, waiting, wanting. Dreading.
He kisses my cheek. “Happy Friendiversary.” My other cheek. “Happy Birthday.” He pulls back and squeezes my arms. “You know I love you, right?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I know.”
Here it is. He’s going to ask me out. What would it be like if I were the kind of person who could say yes to him?
But even this dress on this night can’t make me into that person. It can’t give me courage or take away my fear. I can’t say yes, ever, because I will never be enough for him and he’ll never be what I need.
Squaring my shoulders, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to keep him friend-zoned for another year. I’ll snuff out this attraction and everything will be fine again.
He smiles, but his smile is off. Sad. “Good night, Mina.”
My “no” dissolves on my lips as he turns and jogs back to the bowling alley, leaving me standing alone beside the limo in the dark. He looks over his shoulder once and waves, then he’s gone.
He didn’t ask.
Chapter four
Timothy
Afterlastnight,onething is crystal clear: I am a chicken.
I’ve jumped out of planes and hung from helicopters. I’ve been set on fire, yanked around on wires, and dropped onto trains, cars, and buses. I’ve fallen off buildings and leaped between them. I’ve broken bones and been stitched up…not a problem.
Last night, I stood on the edge of confessing my feelings for my best friend, and I choked.
I choked again with the woman with rose gold hair because her name was Nina—because of course it was—and almost kissing her felt like a betrayal. I don’t know how to get over Mina, but that ain’t it.
Even Nic’s yogurt tastes like defeat this morning. It’s his last one but I like this brand better than the one I’ve got and I figure after he put those doubts in my head last night, he owes me. He’s still asleep. Chiara left an hour ago. We’ve met a few times over the years through mutual friends, so it was nice catching up over coffee. She didn’t ask me to put a shirt on. Or pants, since I’m sitting at the table in my boxer briefs, this being my house and all. She didn’t even ask about the Nerf gun lying on the table next to my orange juice.
