She’s laughing at me, hard.
“No. Shut up,” I grumble and keep walking toward the parking lot while Zoe falls in step with me, still chuckling. I try to keep an irritable face on, but I can’t suppress a smile.
Zoe turns to me when we reach the parking lot. “So, I live within walking distance from campus.”
It’s an invitation, and every part of my body wants to take her up on it, but I know I shouldn’t. She’s different than anyone I’ve ever met before, and I have a feeling her type of different spells trouble for me, if only because of how drawn I am to her.
“I had a really good time, Zoe.” More than I’m willing to admit.
“Yeah, a great time.”
She wants me to kiss her. I can tell by the way her head tilts up, and her lips part in a soft sigh as her gaze flicks to my mouth and back to my eyes. It’s so tempting to give in, lean down and taste her rosy lips, feel that silent gasp escape into my mouth. I brush her bangs out of the way, like I’ve been itching to do so many times tonight, and bend down, engaging every ounce of will power in my body to kiss her soft, smooth cheek.
“Get home safe, Mac.” And if she’s disappointed, she’s doing a hell of a job hiding it.
“Yeah, you too, Zoe.” I start walking toward the bus station and then, against my better judgment, stop and turn around. “Hey, Zoe?”
She stops and turns to look at me.
“You’re genuine,reallygenuine, and that’s rare.” I give her my best grin because I realize my words are too heavy to let hang in the air between us. “That’s a freebie, no proof of rocking body necessary.”
Zoe laughs with her entirety again, then matches my teasing grin.
“I don’t know, Mr. Mackenzie, I tend to be a woman of my word.”
Her words make it difficult, but I force myself to only smile in response, mustering all my willpower to turn around and walk away from her, from the promise in her big doe eyes, while part of me is screaming that I'm an idiot. But I'm convinced it’s the right thing to do, for both our sakes.
Zoe
“He kissed you on your cheek and said you were genuine?” Phoebe stops the wineglass halfway to her mouth and raises a sceptical eyebrow through the screen.
It’s Friday, and I’m on my weekly Skype happy hour date with my two best friends, a tradition we established back in college, so we won’t drift apart.
I groan and drop my head to the table in despair. “I’ve been friend-zoned, haven’t I?” I feel like crying.
Trista tilts her head from side to side as if her thoughts are playing ping pong between her ears. “Well, didn’t you say you got non-platonic vibes from the second he sat in the front row?”
“Yes.” I take a sip from my Pinot Grigio. “I caught him staring at my boobs all the time, though I was wearing a sweater one size too big, not exactly prime ogling material, especially not with my cup size. And I swear he wanted to kiss me. He kept looking at my lips like they were candy.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely into you,” Trista surmises, as the reigning authority on friend-zoning, considering her and Brian’s somewhat bizarre relationship. I want to believe her verdict, but considering how the night ended, it’s a difficult feat.
“Obviously notthatinto me.” I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me that I can’t even get a guy to screw me.
“Oh shit, I have a call from work, I have to get that.” Trista disappears from the screen, her voice getting fainter until it’s reduced to a muffled blur. Phoebe and I sip our wine waiting for her to return. A minute passes, then three, then five.
“I think we lost Tris.”
“Yeah, she’s not coming back,” Phoebe agrees with a sigh. “And we can’t even pillage her wine.”
“I miss you guys; I could really use a hug.” I pout at the screen.
“I know, Sweetie, but are you sure you read the signs correctly, that you weren’t just seeing what you wanted to see?”
Phoebe’s being realistic, it’s her thing. Trista is all jump first think later, I overthink every detail, and Phoebe is somewhere in the middle with her weigh-your-options and make a calculated decision demeanor.
And as much as I appreciate that she’s just looking out for me, the fact that my best friend thinks my judgment regarding guys isn’t sound, stings.
But Phoebe’s worried in vain because there aren’t any emotions involved when it comes to Mac. I’m on too long of a dry spell, and Mac makes my lady parts aware that they’re well overdue for some male attention. He’s nothing more than a means to scratch an itch.