Page 22 of Friendshipped
Well, Felicia’s right. Of course, she’s right. She’s always right. Even about mom’s tomatoes needing water. I haven’t been dating. I know I’m in a rut. Maybe I love my rut like my old pair of sweats with holes in them, but still, I’m not going to get married and have children if I keep living this way week after week, month after month, year after year. Besides, maybe dating will squash this incessant crush I have on my best friend. He just said nothing will ever progress between us. What do I have to lose? It looks like it’s time to give up the ghost of romance with Trevor and try to find someone.
“Okay,” I say.
Both Felicia and Jayme’s eyes bug out. They look like matching troll dolls staring at me with mirrored looks of surprise.
I hear the front door open and shut. Trevor walks into my kitchen, freshly showered and looking unfairly scrumptious.
“Hey, everyone,” he says as he comes over to where I’m leaning on my counter and leans back next to me.
He smells amazing. I love his body wash. It’s something called mountain fresh. But it smells way better on him than it does in the bottle.
I’ve verified this fact. Sue me. I may have lifted the bottle to my nose, closed my eyes and sniffed it when I was in his bathroom—once or twice … or maybe a few other times. That’s not the point.
Trevor’s hair is still damp from the shower, pushed back, but a wavy piece falls forward when he turns his head. My fingers itch to push it back for him.
I take a big gulp of lemonade instead and break into a choking spasm. Trevor pats my back.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I sputter out as I regain my composure.
Trevor’s wearing a grey T-shirt and low-slung jeans. It’s so different from the professional look he has all week long for work, which he also pulls off. I wonder for a moment if he’s putting a little effort into looking sexy because Jayme’s here. That’s ridiculous. He just looks better than average after a run and a shower. It may be my favorite look on him.
“You two look like you just witnessed someone rise from the dead,” Trevor jokes, pointing between Jayme and Felicia. “What’s going on?”
I lean back a little so he can’t see me make a slicing motion across my neck toward Felicia. No way do I want him hearing about my online profile.
No way.
“Oh,” Felicia says, obviously preparing to say more.
I start to bargain in my mind like I did when I was young and feared my naughty list was too long for Santa.I’ll be good. I’ll take up running. I’ll even smile while I run. I’ll give up lemonade and cheese. Not sugar. Okay, okay. Even sugar! But, please, please don’t let Felicia talk about dating apps with Trevor.
“Jayme and Lex are going to make online dating profiles and I’m going to help them.” Felicia says like the pint-sized Benedict Arnold she is.
Trevor looks at me. His eyebrows move almost imperceptibly together for a second. He draws his lips in and then gives a brief nod.
“It’s one way to meet people,” he says.
What’s that supposed to mean?
I look at him and try to figure out what he’s thinking. Usually his thoughts are like an open book to me. It’s like I see a thought bubble over his head when no one else can. Right now, he’s locked up tighter than Alcatraz.
“It’s agreatway to meet people,” Felicia amends. “So, let’s get started!”
8
Trevor
I’ve walked into my own private version of hell on earth. Lexi making an online dating profile puts me in some internal level of Dante’s inferno. It’s the level for all people living with unrequited love.
What prompted this?
Felicia. That’s what.
I know Lexi’s sister—always trying to get Lexi to ditch sugar, exercise and date. Not in that order, apparently.
I’m trying to keep a neutral expression on my face. I have no claim on Lexi. I knew this time would come one way or the other. I just never figured she’d go to the extreme of shopping for dates online.
