Page 56 of Friendshipped
It’s one of those moments of truth I wish I didn’t have to walk through, but I can’t figure a way around it.
“I think I’ll just watch you walk up and see you around town and then when we hang out with everyone for the fireworks if that’s okay.”
She tilts her head up so she’s looking at my eyes. I keep a distance between us, so I don’t accidentally lead her on.
“You aren’t planning on kissing me?”
She askedthat.
I clear my throat, blow a quick breath out my nose and rub my hand across the back of my neck.
“It wouldn’t be fair to you, Meg. I’ve got my heart set on someone else and it wouldn’t be right.”
She looks down at her feet. Then she looks up at me. “Well, you never know. We were good together before. Maybe something can grow over time. If nothing pans out with this other woman, and I’m still here, you never know.”
I nod because I’ve already been too raw with her and I really didn’t even want to say what I did, but she cornered me, and I couldn’t lead her on.
She leans in and hugs me. Then she says, “Whoever she is, she’s a fool if she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.”
I wish I could agree, but the last thing I’d ever say about Lexi is that she’s a fool. Maybe I’m the fool, longing for her without any sign we’re going to ever be more than friends.
“Thanks,” I say.
Meg turns and walks to her porch. I climb into my car and drive home where the woman I love is hosting a girls’ night that seeps through my walls reminding me of her and how much I’d pay to switch places with Channing Tatum for even one day.
19
Lexi
It took a week for the workplace to resume any sense of normalcy since Chase came on board. He now knows me by name. He’ll say things like, “Hi, Lexi,” or “Excuse me, Lexi. Were you finished with that?” Yeah. We’re getting close.
Trevor relentlessly teases me about my ogling. I wish I could say he were jealous. I don’t know what’s got him on such an anti-Chase rampage.
I’ve had a few less than stellar interactions in front of Chase, but I’m doing my best now to impress him. I don’t know how it would work, but a part of me can envision asking him out if he doesn’t ask me. I’d never, but I can dream about it. And, I do.
In the meantime, Memaw gave Josh my number. He called this week and invited me to Chinese Saturday night. I agreed to dinner with him since Memaw met him and gave her stamp of approval. I know she’s got good taste. After all, Trevor’s her favorite person.
I finish the edits to the article I’ve been reviewing before hitting submit. A lull settled over the office about an hour ago. Trevor’s in a meeting with Jeanette, so I decide to handle the return of a botched package I received last week.
I pull up the number for customer service.
A polite man with an accent answers, “Kitchen, Bath, Bedroom and More. How may I help you?”
I answer, “Hello …”
Wait? Do I hear a rooster crowing in the background? Yes. The undeniable crow of a rooster with a shrill er-er-errrrewww cuts through behind this man’s voice. I sit stunned, pulling the phone away from my face to make sure I dialed the right number.
The man on the other end of the line carries on with more manners than a southern Sunday school teacher. “Thank you for calling, ma’am. How may I help you?”
Er-er-errrrrewww, the rooster crows again, not fazing the man in the least. He’s obviously used to the rooster. Whereas, I feel like I’ve reached customer service at Old MacDonald’s farm.
“Um. Well, I was calling about the package I ordered?”
Er-er-errrreww the rooster crows. This customer service agent definitely isn’t in an office cubicle. Or maybe he is. I give him my account information, competing to be heard over the loud crowing in the background.
“Yes, Ma’am. Were you dissatisfied with your package?”
Er-er-errrrrrew.
