Page 76 of The Girlfriend Zone

“It was,” he says, then shrugs. “But breakups are, right?”

There’s resignation in his voice, like he’s accepted the way things ended, and the way he felt. But there’s real hurt there too. That has to be a factor as well in why it’s best if we stay the friendship course. “They are,” I say with a heavy sigh too, then add, “are you happier now?”

He nods instantly. “I am. Saw a team psychologist. Turned my career around. Got my head on straight. I’m good. I’ve always prided myself on moving forward. On picking up the pieces, you know?”

“I do.”

“So that’s what I did.” He tips his chin my way. “Your turn. You tell me about it.”

I wince, not sure I want to get into the romance details. I wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, I just had a couple college boyfriends. One wasn’t even a boyfriend.”

“The one I’m lightly murdering?”

I laugh at the memory. “Yes, that one.”

He makes a “spill it” motion with his hand, his fingers curling toward himself. “Tell me about his crime.”

I roll my eyes to make light of it, but that’s just self-protection. I swallow my pride and bite off the truth. “This one guy said my hearing loss was an embarrassment.”

Miles’s face turns white. Wait. No, it’s more like white-hot anger I see etched into the set of his jaw. “I will find him and kill him.”

“He’s not worth it,” I say.

“No, but you are,” he says easily, locking eyes with me like he would march into battle and slay the dragons of exes if that’s what I asked.

My stomach swoops. “Thank you.”

He rises, comes around the bed, and sits next to me. “He didn’t deserve you or appreciate you. You know that, right?”

The thing is—I do. That’s why it was easy to tell Nick thanks for the wine and to walk out in the middle of our third date. “Yes. Want to know what I said to him when he told me that?”

“I do,” Miles says, eagerly.

“I said,then it won’t embarrass you when I walk out and leave you with the bill.”

Miles’s smile spreads nice and easy, his dark eyes full of pride and appreciation for my payback. “You’re a fucking goddess,” he says.

I preen a little. “I am.”

The bottle of wine is nearly empty, and the pizza box is heading that way too with Miles reaching for the last slice from his chair a little later.

“Best pizza ever,” he declares.

“Because of the artichoke hearts or the company?” I ask.

He pauses, tilting his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Hmm. Tough call.”

I grab a small pink pillow from the futon, holding it up like I’m about to throw it.

“Try me,” he says, leaning back, all confidence. “I have excellent reflexes.”

“So cocky,” I tease, then take him up on his offer, lobbing the pillow.

He catches it easily with his free hand, then eyes it. “Pink, huh? You don’t strike me as a pink person.”

I glance down at my black jeans and gray cropped tank, smirking. “I like pink too. I’m full of surprises.”

His eyes darken, his gaze raking over me like he’s remembering the surprises from that day—the way I like him to touch me: rough, hungry, possessive. “Good surprises,” he says, his voice low and rough, leaving the words hanging in the air between us.

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