Page 132 of The Girlfriend Zone

He’s quiet for a moment. Thoughtful, like he’s just walked in on his kids finger painting the whole kitchen. “What’s going on with you and Leighton?” His tone is curious rather than accusatory. An observation from someone who knows me so well.

“We’re friends,” I say impulsively as I pedal faster, focusing on the burn in my thighs rather than the lie on my lips.

Tyler nods a few times, like he’s taking that in stride.

“You seem friendly,” he says, and that cuts close. “But also, like youreallylike being friends with her.”

Thereallyis doing a lot of work in that sentence. “She’s cool,” I say, as flatly as I can.

He arches a brow, a sign he’s not buying what I’m selling. “I hear you. I really do. But hear this—be careful.”

I sigh, slow my pace, and nod. An admission of sorts. “I will,” I say.

“There’s a lot at stake,” he adds, like I don’t know that.

“I know,” I say.

Because what else is there to say? So I shift gears, asking how things are going with his nanny situation. Then, we dive into the strategy for tonight’s game.

But the whole interaction is unsettling.

And when I play that evening, I’m determined more than ever to hide all these fucking feelings for Leighton McBride.

Good thing it’s a tough, tight game. There’s no time to linger on things like feelings. Or to look for her in the stands. There’s only time to focus on making plays.

And I do, nabbing a goal on Ford Devon’s assist to help our team beat Vancouver in our barn tonight.

“That’s what I like to see,” Coach says when the game is over and he flips me the game puck in the locker room.

It’s like he knew I needed it for beating my old team. I don’t feel like I deserve it though.

40

A SIMPLER NEXT

Miles

That night, Leighton’s waiting for me at my place, which feels all kinds of right. So I do my best to shake off the wrong feelings from earlier.

This woman curled up on my couch with my mom’s dogs, sliding her thumb across her tablet, is, well, everything. I don’t even know what she’s doing on her tablet, but it looks like a calendar template, so that tells me it’s the pictures. I like that she’s doing ithere.

That feels entirely right too—a clear and bright realization, one that’s almost enough to erase the heaviness I feel.

“Hey,” I say softly—soft in tone, not volume.

She’s looking at me, so she can hear me. “Hi.”

It’s wild how one syllable from her makes my heart thump harder. Makes me want to get closer to her. I toe off my shoes and advance toward her, unknotting my tie as the dogs pop up to say hello.

Leighton raises an eyebrow. “Let me do that.”

My heart fills up again, that guilt and unease slinking away. I sink down next to her, the crew hopping back up and surrounding us. I focus on her though, inching closer, and she reaches for the tie and undoes the green knot.

Her fingers on the silk, her skin near me, the scent of her hair—it’s all so intoxicating. I want to just drown in the sounds and scents of her. Forget the shitty way I felt earlier. The guilt I’m carrying that’s all of my own making.

“You won,” she says, stating the obvious.

“You were there,” I say, stating the same.

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