Page 35 of That Friendzone Feeling
Thesmall jet comes into view and sweeps down onto the runway.
Iflick on the interior light of the rental car and pull down the visor to check myself in the mirror.Nottoo bad, considering the wind’s been whipping off theAtlantictoday.
NowhereonHornbyIslandis far from the ocean.It’sonly about fifteen miles long and five miles wide.Thepicture-perfect village ofPortPennyis at one end, and we’ve taken over the opposite end, which had been home to a large family-run hotel that was empty and had fallen into disrepair.Wehad to flatten the whole thing and start from scratch.
Thedoor of the airport building swings open, andWalkertrots out, overnight bag slung over his shoulder.Hisblue-and-gray plaid shirt should really clash with that tweed jacket, but on him it’s a stylish combination.
Mystomach flips at the smiling face heading toward me.WhoamIkidding thatI’vedone a good job of stomping on these new and completely impractical feelings?Notmyself, that’s for sure.Heis unreasonably gorgeous.
Hetosses his bag onto the back seat and climbs into the front.Myeyes are drawn to how his jeans hug his thighs, and it dawns on me thatI’vealways looked at them when we’re in a car.Whenhe drives,I’vealways watched the way his legs shift as he moves his foot from one pedal to another.
HaveIactually always had these nonplatonic feelings for him and just never realized it before?
“Hey,” he says. “Niceride.”
Nowis not the time to try to analyze the last decade of my emotions.
“Choseit specifically to impress you.”Igesture to the basic, plasticky interior of the compact hatchback. “Apparentlythe rental company doesn’t have much choice at this time of year.”
Walkerpulls the seatbelt across his chest—goodGod, haveIalways watched that too?Ineed to focus on the matter at hand here.Andthat is definitely notWalker’schest.Orthighs.Orany part of his incredible body.
Ipull out of the parking lot and indicate to turn toward the village.
“Hey, could we swing by the site first?” he asks.
“Inthe dark?”
“Yeah, butI’mexcited to see it.Couldwe just take a quick spin around it before we go back to the hotel?”
“It’slooking great, but you’ll see it better tomorrow.Howabout we go early, before we come back to the airport to pick upChasein the morning?”
Hepouts out his bottom lip. “Yousaw it today.”Hepokes my shoulder. “I’dlike to see it today too.”
“Oh, for the love ofGod.”Isigh and flick the turn signal in the other direction, then pull out onto the main road toward the resort end of the island.
Whatconstitutes a main road around here is a single lane in each direction with no sidewalks.Andon this windy,Januarynight, we’re the only people on it.
“Didyou fix the vat?”Iask him.
“Tun.Howmany years have you run a brewery?It’satun.”
Ibite into my top lip to stop myself from smiling. “Itwill always be a vat to me.Didyou fix it?”
“Yeah.Butonly becauseVijayhad a toolIdidn’t have.Hewas right that he didn’t need me there at all.”
Fiveminutes of work talk later, a couple of blobs of rain splat onto the windshield.Oh, good. “Thiswasn’t forecasted.”
Moreraindrops follow hard on the heels of the first two.
Ifiddle with the controls around the steering wheel.Theheadlights come on full beam. “Thishad better be just a quick shower.”Iswitch the lights back to normal. “Wedon’t want to be walkingChasethrough a mud bath.”
Iturn something else.There’sa whirring noise behind us.Thenwater shoots up the rear windshield, and we both jump.
Idip my head down to try to get a better look at the controls. “Wherethe fuck are the wipers?”
“Hey,”Walkerbarks, grabbing the wheel.
Ilook up in time to see him steer us away from a ditchat the side of the road. “Shit.”Myheart races at the near disaster. “Sorry.”Thewipers come on. “Foundthem.”
