Page 39 of Accidentally Amy

“So,” I said, shutting my laptop and resting my chin on my hand. “Did we just become best friends?”

“Depends,” he said, giving me a smart-ass little smile.

“On?”

“On what it means to you.” His hands were wrapped around his cup, and I noticed he had nice fingernails. “If you want someone to bail you out of jail or be your blood brother, I’m not the guy.”

“I’m not the guy, either,” I agreed.

“But if it means I’ll come get you when your car breaks down in the rain, then yes, we are.”

“Nope, sorry, buddy,” I said, shaking my head. “Can’t be alone together.”

“Come on—there have to be exceptions,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I just don’t think that’s wise,” I reiterated. “We need to keep that Pandora’s box closed.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, mimicking me by puttinghischin onhishand. “Because a best friend who can give you and your bike a ride home would be pretty handy right about now, wouldn’t it?”

Dear Lord, those words were verbal seduction.

Blake

I watched as her eyes got soft, as she smiled a dreamy little smile. “Thatwouldbe nice, but I think we have to keep these lines clear.”

“You’re telling me that if I called you, stranded on the side of the road, you wouldn’t save me?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “You have a very nice car, Blake. You don’t need me, because you have roadside assistance.”

I tried again. “If I called you because I was too drunk to drive…?”

“I’d get an Uber for my bestie Blake.”

“Fine,” I said, irritated even though I knew she was right. “You can ride all four miles home on that toddler bike.”

“You saw it?” She sat back in her chair and gave me an embarrassed grin. “It’s pretty bad, right? I’ll probably walk it halfway back, to be honest.”

“Izzy—”

“Nope.”

I wasn’t used to feeling powerless. I wasn’t a fan. “There’s no convincing you?”

She shook her head and said, “Afraid not.”

“Well, what if I drive your bike home and call you an Uber?” The obsessive part of me that always needed to find the solution to a problem was spinning in circles.

She looked like she wanted to say yes. She asked, “Would you mind dropping the bike at my building and I’ll just run home?”

“Deal.”

“You’re such a great best friend,” she said, grinning, and I had no idea why I was playing with fire like this. Toying with the line wasn’t my thing, yet I found myself utterly incapable of stepping back.

“Oh, I know.”

We relaxed a little after that and had another coffee, discussing the NFL matchups slated for later that weekend and our potential fantasy trades. Izzy spewed data and statistics like she was a game-day analyst, and I was genuinely disappointed when it was time to leave.

“Izzy, what if you sit in the back seat?” I asked as I loaded her bike into my trunk.

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