Page 27 of The Friend Zone
“Good. Long day?”
“Very long. I might sleep for the next twenty-four hours.” He flashed his pearly whites.
Omar glared at him.Cocky motherfu—
Marcus nodded briefly at Omar, who made a noncommittal sound, and then the good doctor went toward his unit on the left, two doors down.
Dana opened her front door and led the way inside. She lived in a two-bedroom townhouse with a garage, located in a pet-friendly neighborhood, chosen for its proximity to work. Around here, people power-walked for exercise or cycled on their way to the office. The kitchen contained black appliances and pine cabinets and opened to a spacious living room which led to a patio beyond the sliding glass doors.
She slipped off her shoes on the way to the kitchen. “I have Coke and lemonade,” she said in front of the open refrigerator.
Omar sat on the floral armchair catty-corner to the matching sofa. “Coke,” he said.
“Coming right up.”
Dana approached with their canned sodas, and he took one.
She opened her container of food and sighed. “We should not be eating this late. You’re such a bad influence.”
“Me? You’re the one who started the terrible ritual of eating Waffle House whenever we stay out late.”
“Why didn’t you stop me instead of encouraging my behavior? Eating at this hour isn’t going to affect your body, but my big ass knows better.”
“Not a damn thing wrong with your ass,” he said.
Dana seemed taken aback by the statement, her gaze skittering away from his before dipping into her food.
After dancing at Hot Vinyl with mostly liquor as sustenance, they wolfed down the meals in record time. Afterward, Omar sprawled in the chair, reluctant to leave Dana’s company. He was always most comfortable in her company.
As he watched, she folded her right foot onto her knee and rubbed the sole.
“Your feet hurt?”
“A little bit.” She winced and continued working on her foot. “I don’t know how women walk in these on a regular basis.”
“Why did you wear them?”
She shrugged and didn’t look at him. “Trying something different.”
Omar guessed she probably wore them for her new boyfriend, but the sucker never showed up. He was glad but experienced a twist of jealousy tightening his throat.
He observed her for a little longer and then went to sit beside her on the sofa. “I can help.”
She looked at him as if he was crazy.
“Give me your foot.” He held out his hand.
“You’re seriously going to rub my feet?” She looked at him in shock.
“They don’t call me Magic Hands for nothing,” Omar said, wiggling his fingers.
Dana burst out laughing. “They call you Mr. Casanova. Nobody calls you Magic Hands.”
“Give me your foot, woman.”
Without waiting, Omar took her foot in his hands and placed it on top of his thighs.
13
