Page 6 of The Friend Zone
“Aren’t we a lovely pair with our family issues,” Omar said dryly.
“Can’t pick your family…” Dana began.
“But you can pick your friends,” Omar finished.
They smiled at each other, and the heat of longing wound a sinuous path beneath Dana’s skin and made her nipples tighten. When he looked at her with his eyes soft and head tilted to the side, she wanted to grab him around the neck and kiss him senseless. One would think, after six years his gorgeous face would no longer affect her, but such was not the case.
Omar Bradford did crazy things to her lady parts, and she hoped one day she could meet someone who’d help her get over her pathetic crush on her friend.
“Don’t forget, we’re defending our championship at Deon’s a week from Friday,” he said, backing away.
Deon was a cornerback with the Atlanta Falcons, and every few months he and his wife organized a lavish game night at their estate in Buckhead. Last time she and Omar took home the spades tournament trophy.
“I won’t. I’m ready to defend our title.”
Omar grinned. “Holler if you want to do something before then.”
“You call me. You’re the one who’s in tune with the social scene.” Because of his celebrity status, he regularly received tickets to shows and invitations to events all over town.
“Bet. I’ll do that,” he said.
Dana climbed into her car and watched him walk into the building.
Her friends insisted there was something going on between her and Omar, and she constantly denied the accusation. Partially for her own sanity and partially because she couldn’t admit the truth. Three years ago, they shared a kiss she never forgot.
His ex-fiancée, Athena, hurt him deeply when she cheated on him, and he’d discovered her betrayal when he flew to New York to surprise her. When he returned to Atlanta, he showed up drunk to Dana’s apartment. She listened to his angry, hurt-filled rants until he fell quiet, burying his face in his hands. She had offered comfort with a friendly embrace, but Omar slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her. She stiffened with shock, and the moments afterward were forever burned into her brain.He’d sobered up real quick and hopped up from the sofa.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” Dana said, mouth tingling, heart racing.
“No, it’s not. We’re friends. I wasn’t thinking.”
She pushed down the hurt clawing its way up her throat. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”
He apologized for kissing her, as if it were the worst thing possible. The sting of those words left an emotional blister that had never gone away.
They didn’t talk for weeks after, both keeping their distance from each other. Then one day he showed up at her house and invited her to a club opening. She said yes, and they were back in sync again as if nothing happened. But something did happen, causing a thin crack in the wall of their friendship and forcing her to think of the possibilities with the one man who knew her better than any other.
Seconds. Mere seconds of lip-to-lip contact altered the way she viewed him for good. But nothing was going to happen between them because she put a tremendous amount of effort into hiding her feelings to hold on to their friendship.
Besides, a new Omar had emerged from the wreckage of his relationship with Athena. Dana watched his transformation from monogamous husband-to-be into a man the media referred to as Mr. Casanova. News about his latest bed partners no longer made headlines at the gossip blogs, but he kept a protective wall of thorns around his heart by going through women as if a doctor told him he only had six months to live. She sympathized with the poor women who thought they could win his love. They had a better chance of winning the lottery without buying a ticket.
Dana briefly touched her mouth and relived the moment his lips touched hers several years ago. An onslaught of tingles invaded her body at the memory, and she sighed heavily and then started the car.
“Friends, Dana,” she muttered.
Surely these feelings would eventually pass.
4
Bookstores were one of Dana’s favorite places.
She breezed through the doors, feeling as if she were home, and nodded at the clerk at the desk before strolling past the in-store coffee shop to the nonfiction section. There, she zeroed in on the shelves filled with reference material for aspiring and seasoned writers.
With so many bookstores closing in recent years, she was relieved a few independent ones remained open to accommodate people like her. Some of her fondest childhood memories included spending time at the bookstore or the library, browsing the stacks and discovering new authors. Books allowed her to escape the drudgery of her life—growing up poor and taking on the responsibility of being the caretaker of her two younger siblings. Her troubles faded when she spent a few leisurely hours among books. In their pages she was whisked away to foreign lands, traveled through time, or became friends with characters who successfully overcame their problems.
She settled on two books. One gave advice on plotting and the other promised the keys to overcoming writer’s block. Once her primary task was completed, she scanned the fiction shelves to reward herself for when she completed the first few chapters of her manuscript.
