Page 53 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Thalia we sing together. He supports me. That’s not weird.”

“He’s literally a superstar, and instead of booking a hotel, he stayed in your guest room. His security team spent the night parked outside your building. And he sang with you. In your show. Just because it would be ‘fun.’”

“People do nice things for their friends,” I say, trying not to sound defensive even though I totally am.

“I saw you two,” she shoots back, and my heart drops. All I can think about is us goofing off in the kitchen while she was in the shower. There’s no way she buys that’s just how we are. Not when I was that affected. “I saw the way you look at each other, how you touch, how you respect each other…and kind of don’t,” she giggles, like a fan gushing over her favorite ship. “There’s real chemistry, Alex.”

“We’re just friends, Thalia.”

“Girl, look at him!” she groans. “He’s hot, Alexandra. You’ve never thought about it?”

“Being attracted to someone is not the same as having feelings.”

My mouth moves before my brain can stop it.

“So you have thought about it?”

“Not all the time,” I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “He’s hot. He’s nice to look at. It’s just... nothing would ever happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want it to, Thalia. Anyway, if you’re done writing your little fanfic, I’m heading out with the hot guy who flew across the planet to see me. Talk later.”

“Go ahead and enjoy your cute little not-a-date with the guy you’d ‘never’ have anything with,” she teases, and I hang up, laughing at myself in the mirror.

Me and A.J.? No way. That’d never work.

***

“Do you already know what you want to get?” A.J. drops his giant self into the passenger seat and buckles up just as a black BMW pulls in behind us.

“Wallpaper, polaroid frames, some cute desk decals… a few books I’ve already read, but in hardcover, for the shelf. And a lamp – you know I like to write at night.”

“Right, because you write music like the Greeks wrote poetry, by hand.”

“Also…” I shift my attention back to the Pinterest board in my mind. “I want some vintage stuff. Full-on Pinterest girl style.”

A.J. stops at the red light, frowning, blinking twice.

“Didn’t know you were a vintage girl too.”

“I’m not. But… if I can decorate a room differently, why not go for it?” I shrug, tossing my curls over my shoulder. “But wait – who’s the other vintage girl in your life?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Dani,” he says, laughing as he starts listing. “With her eighties-inspired outfits, boots, leather, jackets, shirts with bold or double-meaning quotes… That’s her thing. Dani’s got this whole Penny Lane vibe, you know?”

“Penny Lane the song or the movie?”

“The movie[6]. Definitely. My girl’s been living in this fantasy of dating a hot drummer,” he adds, with that signature smirk. “And honestly? I think she likes the fantasy more than she’ll like the actual life on the road…” he finishes with a sigh, glancing over at me.

The way his eyes soften when he talks about her… A.J. isn’t in the “she needs to grow up”, he’s more “that girl’s a mess and I love her anyway.”

And I like that.

We need more friends who meet us where we are, while we’re still figuring out how to be grown-ups.

“Everyone’s a little lost in college,” I say. “She’s probably just trying to find where she fits.”

A.J. starts the engine again, and the moment the BMW follows us, I gasp a little.

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