Page 10 of Just Bromantically Invested

Contacting someone, striking up a conversation, hoping for that click … it’s a lot. It’s intimidating. I drop my phone back onto the counter with a sigh, then flick over to Madden’s messages. It’s been two hours now, and I still haven’t heard from him. Guess I need to face facts that he’s not coming.

I’m trying really fucking hard not to be bummed out by that.

I’d saved this movie to watch with him. I’d invited him over because he always seems to be busy, and I’ve tried hard not to be smothering, but we’re long overdue for some time together. Turns out even asking outright doesn’t guarantee that will happen. What the fuck does it take to get to spend time with my best friend these days?

I drag my hands back over my hair, frustrated, wondering whether I’d still have this need to be with Madden if I had a person of my own. Surely if I had a girlfriend, she’d distract me. She’d fill the loneliness that settles when Madden is around. Not to mention I’d be getting regular sex and stop being so fucking wound tight all the time.

There’s only one problem with my plan: I don’t actuallywanta girlfriend.

So that’s a real fucking kicker. I’m lonely, I don’t want to belonely, but I don’t want someone in my life who can fix it either.

I laugh softly because I’m a fucking mess.

There’s a knock on my door, and I immediately glance at my phone. There are no waiting messages, but I haven’t ordered dinner yet either, so that doesn’t leave many options of who it could be.

Madden might knock, but he has his own key, so it’s doubtful.

When I open the door, it isn’t Madden standing there; it’s a woman.

And the first thing I notice is she’s drop dead gorgeous.

“Umm … hi.” She gives me a dorky wave. “I’m new to the building, and I sort of saw you come home earlier—not a stalker, sorry, that was weird. I mean that I saw you pass, figured we were roughly similar ages, and that maybe—if this isn’t totally weird as hell—we could maybe grab a coffee?”

It takes me a moment to realize that no, this isn’t my imagination gone wild. There’s an actual woman, standing right in front of me, asking me to coffee. And she’s goddamn stunning and cute as hell. I can’t even open my mouth to form words.

“Oh! Sorry. That sounded like I was asking you out. No. It’s not that you’re not cute. I …” She lets out a massive puff of air. “I’m fucking this way up, and I’m so sorry.”

I reach out a hand. “Penn.”

“Lana.”

“From what I’ve pieced together from the rambling, you’re new here and would like to make a friend.”

She snaps her fingers and points at me. “Yes. That one.”

“You want to come in?” I step back and widen the door, but she hesitates, and it takes me a second to work out why. “Actually, scrap that. I’m a stranger, I get it.”

“Sorry, it’s not you?—”

“Don’t apologize.”

She gives me a tight smile and tucks her honey-blond hair behind her ear. “World’s a bit shit when it comes to men and women, you know?”

“Oh, I definitely know. It’s a bit shit when it comes to Black and white people too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. But coffee sounds awesome. Tomorrow morning?”

Lana lights up. “I have yoga at six, but I should be back at like … seven thirty? Eight?”

“Works for me.”

Her relieved smile has a hint of that dorky vibe I was getting from her earlier. “Awesome. I will pick you up.”

“Okay …”

She heads back up the hall, and I watch her go, still sort of thrown by the interaction. Is this a sign? I’m here thinking about a girlfriend, and an adorable woman shows up at my door? It’s more likely I’ve knocked my head and am currently unconscious on my kitchen floor.

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