I go back to holding my head in my hands, letting her gloat.
“Hey, this is supposed to be fun. You’re supposed to enjoy life, and if life gives you a gorgeous, tattooed silver fox on a platter, you jump on that and ride it until you’re bow-legged.”
God, that sounds really good.
Pointing her chopsticks at me, Parker mumbles, “Oh shit, you just growled. You need itbad.”
“Clearly,” I say, rubbing my eyes. This issonot what I wanted to talk about today.
“Then why do you sound so despondent?”
I sigh, looking down the tree-lined path and at the disgustingly carefree students. “Two reasons. One, my husband died only a year ago. Two, Everett is a really good friend of mine, and I don’t wanna lose him.”
Again, with the disbelieving eyes. “What makes you think you’d lose him?”
I bite my lip and steal a snap pea from her. “He kind of pursued me when we first met, and I shut him down. I made him promise we’d only be friends.”
She smacks my hand with her chopsticks and moves the box over on her side again. “I’m pretty sure he’d be okay with you breaking that promise.”
I push the tip of my shoe around in the gravel at my feet. “Okay, but if this is just a passing phase, some bout of overblown lust—”
Talking through the bit of fried tofu in her mouth, she shakes her head, saying, “Still not seeing the downside here.”
Oh, comeon. EvenIknow how that one ends. “At some point the lust is going to go away, and I don’t wanna lose my friend at the end of it.”
“He’s a big boy, Raf. You should, uh, expand your horizons. I bet it’d be fun…”
I cannot possibly overestimate the amount of scorn in the look I give her. It appears, however, that she is immune.
“I still don’t get why you think you’d lose him.”
I know full well she’s got at least thirty IQ points on me, and I can’t believe I have to explain this to her. “A. You should never mix friends and fucking. That’s just, like, one of the laws of the universe. And B. He looks like this really rough guy, but he’s such a sweetheart, and I might already have—I mean… You know how I go to his house every Monday night?”
“Yeah, your Netflix-and-binge-watch-Australian-dramas night.”
I scratch the back of my head and bite my bottom lip. “We snuggle on his couch.”
It’s now her turn to look at me like I might be a little dumb. “You snuggle. On his couch. For hours at a time.”
I hold up my hands, imitating my favorite emoji. “Yes?”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he’s just waiting for you to be ready?” She taps my forehead, likely trying to ascertain if anyone is home. Spoiler alert: probably not.
“Well, it hasnow. And my brain can’t handle contemplating, you know, the future, so I’m thinking I should probably try to find something…less permanent?”
She crosses her arms, clearly faking thoughtfulness as she drums her fingers on her chin. “It’s not a terrible idea. Or, at least it wouldn’t be if you didn’t look like you were going to throw up just saying the wordsless permanent. It’s almost as bad as whisperinglube.Honestly.”
“All I know is I have to cancel tonight or I will embarrass myself.”
“No.” She shakes her head and grabs a red bell pepper, dragging it through the no-doubt delicious homemade hummus. “You need to go so you can gauge how you’re really going to react around him in person, without subjecting yourself to public humiliation.”
I grimace and shake my head. “I don’t know. I have a pretty visible reaction just thinking about it.”
I’m thankful that she’s looking thoughtful, instead of judgy. Finally, she asks, “I might get in trouble for asking you this, but can’t you…you know…take care of thingsright before, so you’re less likely to, I don’t know, boner up at the wrong time?”
Told you.
I roll my eyes. “My husband recommended that this morning.”
