Page 40 of That Friendzone Feeling

“Isn’tit hot?”Igive it a wiggle.

“Ifyou think this constitutes sexy times, no wonder you haven’t had a decent relationship in years.”

Ipull my orange windbreaker from my bag and sit backinto the passenger seat. “Here, it’ll at least keep your top half dry.”Iglance out the window. “Maybe.”

“Thisis going to be horrific.”Shepushes her arms into the sleeves. “Walkingin the rain,Imean.Butthis jacket’s pretty bad too.”

“Ifyou don’t think orange is your color,I’mmore than happy to put it on.”Itug at the collar of my tweed jacket. “Thisis going to be like wearing a sponge.”

“I’llcope.”Sheturns back the too-long sleeves.Christ, seeing her wearing an item of my clothing is absolutely fucking adorable. “We’dbeen driving for, what, six or seven minutes?” she says. “Sowe can’t be much more than half a mile from the resort.”

Herarms flop into her lap.Shefalls silent and stares at the hood, two large rocks sitting on top of it in the craters they’ve made and the end of that lethal pole so close to the windshield.

“I’mso sorry,” she says quietly, as if finally taking in the reality of it for the first time. “Idon’t know what happened.”

“Hey.”Itake her hand between both of mine. “It’sokay.We’reboth fine.Andthis is just a car.Whichis insured.Butthere’s no point sitting in it waiting for someone to help us.Andit doesn’t look like this rain is going anywhere any time soon.Wehave to get ourselves out of here.”

Ikiss the back of her hand and look at her over the top of it. “Ready?”

Weeach put a hand on our door handles and count down.

“Three.Two.One.”

Ithrow mine open, and it’s like someone cranked up the volume on the rain.

“Fuck.”Sloppymud rises up and over the tops of my sneakers.

“Wetfeet?”Emilycalls from the other side of the car. “Metoo.”

Wemeet by the trunk.

“Notto worry—there isn’t a part of us that won’t be wet five minutes from now.”Ithrow my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side.Atleast we might keep one side of each of us dry if we huddle tight. “Comeon.”

Weduck our heads against the driving rain and set off along the dark country road, up the hill toward our half-built resort.

“Oh, thankGod,”Emilysays as the unfinished welcome center at the entrance to the development comes into view.

We’vebeen walking for about fifteen minutes.Andhave been drenched to our skin for almost all of them.

“Comeon.”Itake her by the hand and break into a trot toward the glorious shelter.

“It’sonly got half a roof,” she pants.

“Anyfraction of a roof sounds good right now,”Isay, leading her between plastic sheeting covering a gap in the wooden framing where the door will eventually be.

Wedodge between puddles on the plywood subfloor, workbenches, and more curtains of plastic sheets until we make it to the roofed area in the far corner.

Weboth straighten for the first time after being hunched against the rain.

Emilypulls her phone out of an inside jacket pocket, sparks up its flashlight and shines it over me from my headto my feet. “Oh, myGod.”

“Shockedby my gorgeousness?”

“Shockedto see how wet it’s possible for a person to be.”

Ipush my fingers through my hair.It’swetter than whenIwash it. “Allmy clothes are sticking to my body.”Ipeel the front of my shirt from my chest and shake a leg. “Evenmy underwear.”

“Onekiss and you’re telling me about your underwear?”Shewipes away a trickle of water running down her forehead. “Easy, tiger.”