The Friend Zone(16)

If I pushed her down across my knees, I could spank her ass.

She grabbed her phone and whirled off my lap. “It’s Sloan. I’ve been waiting for this call all day.” She put a finger to her lips for me to be quiet, hit the Talk button, and put her on speaker. “Hey, Sloan, what’s up?”

“Did you send me a potato?”

Kristen covered her mouth with her hand and I had to stifle a snort. “Why? Did you get an anonymous potato in the mail?”

“Something is seriously wrong with you,” Sloan said. “Congratulations, he put a ring on it. PotatoParcel.com.” She seemed to be reading a message. “You found a company that mails potatoes with messages on them? Where do you find this stuff?”

Kristen’s eyes danced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have the other thing though?”

“Yeeeess. The note says to call you before I open it. Why am I afraid?”

Kristen giggled. “Open it now. Is Brandon with you?”

“Yes, he’s with me. He’s shaking his head.”

I could picture his face, that easy smile on his lips.

“Okay, I’m opening it. It looks like a paper towel tube. There’s tape on the—AHHHHHH! Are you kidding me, Kristen?! What the hell!”

Kristen rolled forward, putting her forehead to my shoulder in laughter.

“I’m covered in glitter! You sent me a glitter bomb? Brandon has it all over him! It’s all over the sofa!”

Now I was dying. I covered my mouth, trying to keep quiet, and I leaned into Kristen, who was howling, our bodies shaking with laughter. I must not have been quiet enough though.

“Wait, who’s with you?” Sloan asked.

Kristen wiped at her eyes. “Josh is here.”

“Didn’t he have a date tonight? Brandon told me he had a date.”

“He did, but he came back over after.”

“He came back over?” Her voice changed instantly. “And what are you two doing? Remember what we talked about, Kristen…” Her tone was taunting.

Kristen glanced at me. Sloan didn’t seem to realize she was on speaker. Kristen hit the Talk button and pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you!” She hung up on her and set her phone down on the coffee table, still tittering.

“And what did you two talk about?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

I liked that she’d talked about me. Liked it a lot.

“Just sexually objectifying you. The usual,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing a hot fireman like you can’t handle.”

A hot fireman like you. I did my best to hide my smirk.

“So do you do this to Sloan a lot?” I asked.

“All the time. I love messing with her. She’s so easily worked up.” She reached for her beer.

I chuckled. “How do you sleep at night knowing she’ll be finding glitter in her couch for the next month?”

She took a swig of her beer. “With the fan on medium.”

My laugh came so hard Stuntman Mike looked up and cocked his head at me.

She changed the channel and stopped on HBO. Some show. There was a scene with rose petals down a hallway into a bedroom full of candles. She shook her head at the TV. “See, I just don’t get why that’s romantic. You want flower petals stuck to your ass? And who’s gonna clean all that shit up? Me? Like, thanks for the flower sex, let’s spend the next half an hour sweeping?”

“Those candles are a huge fire hazard.” I tipped my beer toward the screen.

“Right? And try getting wax out of the carpet. Good luck with that.”

I looked at the side of her face. “So what do you think is romantic?”

“Common sense,” she answered without thinking about it. “My wedding wouldn’t be romantic. It would be entertaining. You know what I want at my wedding?” she said, looking at me. “I want the priest from The Princess Bride. The mawage guy.”

I took a swallow of beer. “I’d put my wife in a chair when I’m supposed to pull off her garter, and I’d dance around her to ‘Stuck in the Middle with You’ like in Reservoir Dogs.”

“Yes! And I’d want my husband to show up at the last minute all red like in The Hangover. The pictures would be awesome.”

I turned back to the show with a smile.

This is the date I should have been on tonight. This was a date I would have gone home with.

“Hey,” she said, leaning her head back on the couch and looking at me. “I’m sorry I was rude to you when we first met.”

I chuckled. “So you’re going to stop giving me shit about my driving?”

“No. You’re a horrible driver. I meant that stuff.”

I laughed.

“I had a bad week. You caught me on a really rough morning.”

“Why?” I took a drink of my beer.

She paused for a moment like she was debating whether or not to elaborate. “Well, you know Miguel quit on me. And my period was pretty crappy. I haven’t really been sleeping, and that morning I met you, someone tried breaking into my house—”

“Wait, what?” My mood changed in an instant. I sat up and set my beer on the coffee table. “Someone tried breaking in here? Who?”