Page 71 of The Girlfriend Zone

“How about this? Suggest they run the sourdough daycarefromthe bike shop. These two-in-one shops are all the rage. I went to one in New York that was both a flower shop and a bike shop. They called itBikes and Blooms.”

“Nice,” I say, momentarily picturing Miles on a bike. The image is unexpectedly hot—maybe because of his glasses. He’s such a hot nerd with them on, like right now. But a hot athletic nerd? That’s ten million times hotter. Which is Miles, with his two degrees, and hisI was kind of into schoolunderstatement in a nutshell.

“So Indigo and Ezra make bamboo bikes,” Miles says, “and they’re also loud as hell in bed?”

“So loud,” I say, groaning. “And so…specific.”

He makes a rolling gesture for me to continue. “Do tell.”

I flash back to the last time I lived with them and shudder. “They had this thing about using all the proper terms for body parts. No slang. She’d give him instructions like,Squeeze my nipple really hard, then bite it, then lick the areola.And he’d say,Communication is so hot. Tell me exactly how to administer oral sex.Then she’d lay it out in excruciating detail, step by step, from the vulva to the clitoris.”

Miles shoots me a quick side-eye before returning his attention to the road. “I mean, communication is nice and all, but…”

“I prefer cock and clit,” I say, laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

“I prefer my—” He stops himself, but I think we both know where he was going.

I relax into the seat, surprised at how easy this is after all—accepting his help. I’d planned to do it all myself, mostly to prove that I could. But maybe I don’t always have to. Sometimes it’s nice to let someone else step in. Then again, the answer might be a whole lot simpler: I like being with Miles.

It’s not just the sandalwood scent of his cologne, or the way his wild hair flops over his eyes, or even the way his eyes are so expressive and thoughtful. It’s all of it—him.

“Thanks again,” I say, glancing at him once more, my chest a little fizzy with gratitude, “for showing up as my Lyft in shining armor.”

“Happy to do it,” he says with a casual shrug.

“I didn’t expect it.”

“I know,” he says, seeming a little amused.

“I wasn’t sure what to say at first when you arrived,” I admit.

“The correct response is—Miles, you’re fucking amazing and I’ve found a portal to a parallel universe where I can ride your cock tonight.”

A laugh bursts from me. “Yes, take me to that portal right now.”

He taps the GPS on the car’s console, then says in an authoritative tone: “GPS—take me to the secret sex portal where there are no consequences.”

The GPS doesn’t answer, of course, but I do, speaking in a cool, robotic tone, “Take the first left at the light.”

With the panache of a man who wants a woman, he flicks on the turn signal for a hot second, before turning it off with a resigned sigh.

Not bothering to hide my appreciation for his effort, Iadd, “You were kind of determined to give me a ride, it turns out.”

“I was,” he says, owning it.

“I thought I could do it all myself,” I say, an admission.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says, and I believe him—that hisanytimemeans he’ll show up. I like that feeling—the belief that he’ll do what he says. On the one hand, I’m used to it from my dad and my sister; on the other hand, I certainly never felt it with my mom, or any of the guys I’ve dated.

The GPS guides him onto my block, past a Mexican restaurant and a mural painted on the side of a building. It’s of a high heel kicking the wordPatriarchy. I point to it. “That’s one of Maeve’s murals and one of my favorite things about this neighborhood. That, and the nachos.”

“You had me at nachos,” Miles says, his tone teasing, before he adds, “but that’s a cool mural too, and so’s the sentiment. Maeve’s got skills.”

“She truly does.”

---