Page 41 of Accidentally Amy

I’d turned around, but no one was walking behind me.

Blake:Made you look.

His idiotic texting had put me in a great mood as I’d breezed into work, and it hadn’t waned all day. But now, for some reason, I was nervous to see him. Even though we’d shared our frequent whereabouts with the sole purpose of possibly running into each other, what if he didn’t want me there? What if he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to be my sort-of friend?

Really, it was just a little nerve-racking, being the first one to casually happen upon the place that the other one happened to mention they might be visiting. Felt a little stalker-y, if I was being honest.

It’s no big deal, I told myself as I turned onto the next block.

He probably wasn’t even there anyway.

Blake

I could tell it was her, even though she was still a half block away. I leaned against the front of the building and thought itwas the same as when I’d happened to glance out my office window this morning and immediately spotted her down on the street below.

Fucking weird.

It was like Where’s Waldo?, only Izzy wasn’t wearing stripes, and my superpower was apparently being able to instantly find her in a crowd.

I put my hands in my pockets and allowed myself to watch her, mostly because there was no way she could see me yet. Her hair was down, blowing in the fall breeze, and she reminded me of Meg Ryan inYou’ve Got Mailwith her dark tights, skirt, wool coat, and scarf.

She should have a damn pumpkin under her arm and a coffee in her hand.

But as I watched her walking in my direction, I felt them again.

Fucking butterflies.

What in the hell waswiththat?

Nope. Fuck that. Not butterflies, no way. If I were interested in her, the way my stomach felt at that moment might possibly be butterfly-related, but I wasn’t. In all actuality, what I was feeling was just, shit, uh…gladness.

Seriously—gladness?

It was lame as hell, but yes, I was simply glad to see my friend. Lunch with a buddy was better than lunch alone, so I was glad to see her.

That was all.

I straightened and walked over to the food truck, getting in line. I looked at the menu board for a solid ten seconds before I heard, “Blake?”

I turned around, andshit.She was smiling up at me with that mouth, those lips, and the soft smell of her perfume was coming at me like some kind of a…uh…shit, something I couldn’t ignore. Or something.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and my chest felt a little tight as I looked at her lipstick.

“I thought that was you,” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Itisme,” I replied, unable to stop myself from grinning back. “Are you out trolling for calzone, too?”

She leaned in a little closer and said, “To be honest, I’ve never been a fan of the dough-dome pizza that they call calzone. I like my slices big, open, and melty. Just like my men.”

“Did you seriously just say that?”

“I know, ew. I was trying something.” She crinkled her nose, narrowed her eyes, and said, “I don’t think it hit.”

“I don’t think so, either.” I turned my attention back to the menu and said, “Their fried ravioli is good.”

“Is it ricotta cheese filled?” she asked.

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