Page 75 of That Friendzone Feeling

He’sprobably exactly whatIneed right now, a friendly but honest voice to verbally slap me out of this pit of miserable stress.

“Hey,” he says. “Whatare you doing?”

“Staringat my laptop about to watchEmilywalk aHollywoodred carpet withChaseCooper.”

There’ssilence for a couple of seconds while he twists his brow in puzzlement, as ifIjust told himI’mgiving up beer-making to produce nonalcoholic herbal health drinks. “It’sgonethatfar?She’shis public date now?”

“They’renot together.Notyet, anyway.Obviouslyhe wants to get into her pants.Butit’s worse than that.”

Isit on the sofa and rest my phone against the laptop screen, where an ad’s playing for home hair color.

“I’veslept with her twice in the last two weeks.Shethinks it was all a horrible mistake.ButI’mtotally in love with her.Sonow everything’s fucked up.”

Yup, that’s about the size of it.

Ilean back on the sofa and take another swig of beer.

“Isthis a bizarre joke?”Connor’snow more astonished than puzzled.

“Nope.Nojoke.Allfacts.Nota single one of them funny.”

“Okay.Well,Iwas only calling to ask if you want to come over to watch the game.ButnowIneed to sit.”Hesettles himself into a huge recliner. “Andyou’re going to have to slow down.ThelastIheard on your way up toBathgatewas just that you didn’t like him sniffing around her.Imean, obviouslyI’vealways known you’re crazy about her.Butif you’ve finally caught up with that, thenI’vemissed alot.”

“Whatdo you mean you’ve always knownIwas crazy about her?”

Heshrugs, likeI’veasked him how he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green. “Youmean youdidn’tknow?”

“Obviouslynot.Andnow it might be too late.”

“Sorry.Imean, people usually know when they’ve been in love with someone for years.”

“Yeah, well, apparentlyI’mslower on the uptake than we all thought.Youcan endure this horror show with me if you like.”Ibring up my email on the laptop screen. “I’llsend you a link to this appalling site that seems to exist only to livestream red carpets.Anyminute now, the woman of my dreams will appear on it, on the arm ofMr.FuckingPerfect.”

Thehair color commercial concludes with a woman spinning around, her flowing blond locks swirling out behind her.

“Yourejoin us at just the right moment,” the happiest reporter in the world says. “Asalways,RedCarpetReadyhas the prime spot, right where the stars arrive, andIbelieve this is the car we’ve all been waiting for.”

Overher shoulder, we see the rear door of a black limo open.Chasegets out, buttons up his jacket, and reaches back inside. “Aw, always the gentleman,Chaseis helping his mom out of the car,” the reporter says.

“Whydoes she think he’s with his mother?”Connorasks.

“Becausethat’s whoMr.World’sBestSonusually takes to all his premieres.”

Along, slim leg ending in a silver high-heeled shoe emerges from the car.Theleg’s perfectly curved and beautiful and, just a couple of nights ago, was wrapped around my waist.

Emilysteps out, holdingChase’shand.Sheruns her free hand around the back of her neck and tosses her hair, which has been styled into longHollywoodcurls, to one side.

Chase, the man who could have any woman on the planet, looks at her like he can’t believe how lucky he is that she’s there with him.He’snot dumb.

“Wow,”Connorsays. “Shelooks amazing.”

“Shealways looks amazing.”Irest my chin on my hand. “Evenwearing theT-shirt she’s slept in and yawning at my kitchen counter.”

“Well,” the reporter says, turning to the camera like she’s about to win an award for investigative journalism. “Thatis definitelynotChaseCooper’smom.”

Chasebrushes something off the shoulder ofEmily’sfigure-hugging black dress.Theplunging neckline is edged with silver sparkly stuff, drawing attention to the quarter moons of each breast.Hesmiles and says something that makes her giggle.

“Oh, fuck.She’sso happy.”Idrop my head and push my fingers into my hair.