Page 23 of Just Friends

For a moment, uncertainty flashes across his features, and realization courses through my veins. I drop my hands back to my sides. “Oh, right, Chloe. You guys looked like you were having fun.”

His back was to me, but I could see Chloe laughing. She’s the kind of person who laughs with her full face, like it’s bubbling out of her. It made me remember why I liked her so much when we first met, and I made a mental note to ask her for coffee, regardless of how their date went.

Without realizing it, I’m holding my breath, waiting for his answer. Because although I’m desperate to end my date withDickin, I hadn’t considered until now that Alex and Chloe probably aren’t ready to use their salad forks to slowly extract their eyeballs from their sockets.

Alex’s face softens, like butter melting in a pan. “No, I still want to get ice cream with you.”

A seed of pleasurable gratification takes root in my chest and blooms, spreading throughout my body. My breath releases in a relieved exhale. “Okay, good. Let’s get out of here.”

He moves around me, washing his hands in the sink. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “What about Chloe? Should I invite her to come with us?”

“Oh,” I say, thinking.

The truth is, I don’twantto share Alex right now. Not when I’ve been on the worst date of my life and I need to review every single detail with my best friend. But I also know it’s unfair to leave her when their date has gone well.

“I can wait in the car,” I say quickly, not giving Alex a chance to reply as he dries his hands on a cloth towel before tossing it in the bin. “I’ll wait in the car until your date is over, and then we can go. Just you and me.”

Alex watches me, his expression more intense than I’ve ever seen it before, and I have to resist the urge to squirm beneath it. The normal mahogany of his eyes turns sable, then ebony. It’s utterly fathomless. Like the black hole they’ve turned into, I feel myself being sucked into their depths.

After a long moment, he nods and moves toward the door, his hand settling on the handle. But then he hesitates, the muscles in his shoulders bunching.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to invite Chloe?” he asks, and his voice is soft.

I struggle for a response, unsure of how to explain myself, how to put my feelings into words.

The bathroom door swings open before I can reply, banging into Alex’s head. He stumbles back into me, clutching his nose. A large balding man peers around the door, his flushed face creased in shock and concern.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, coming into the bathroom, but he stops dead at the sight of the blood gushing from between Alex’s fingers. The color drains from the man’s cheeks, and I realize a second too late that he’s going to faint. His stout form hits the ground with a reverberatingthump.

“Ohmahgah,” Alex exclaims from behind his hand, his words mumbling together. Bright red blood seeps between his fingers, staining his starched white shirt. The sight propels me into action, and I step over the unconscious man, rushing for the counter.

The fancy restaurant that Alex picked out is too elegant for disposable paper towels, so I’m forced to grab one of the ornately folded blindingly white hand towels to sop up Alex’s blood.

I swat his hands away, and blood drips onto the knotted tie of my mustard yellow top. He starts to wipe it away, forgetting his hands are stained crimson, and leaves a wine-red smear right above my cleavage.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hand back. His voice is nasal and choked with blood.

“Are you okay?” I ask, gripping his nose more firmly in an attempt to stanch the bleeding.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think you should get someone for him,” Alex says as the man on the floor lets out a low moan. His hand comes up to cover mine, taking control of the towel.

I look down at my body, the red smears on my hands and chest, and the heavy scent of copper coating me. “They’re going to think I murdered someone in the bathroom.”

A gurgling laugh comes from Alex. “It’ll be fine. I’m going to try to wake him up. Go see if you can find a manager or something.”

I hesitate, hand on the door handle for a moment, as Alex bends to his knees before the stranger, using his free hand to gently pat his face. “Hey, dude. Wake up, big guy.” The tight fist of worry clenched around my chest eases watching Alex cracking jokes, so I crack the door open and slip out.

“They’retoofancyforpaper towels, but not too fancy to use frozen peas in the kitchen,” I say, steering Alex’s car out of the restaurant parking lot a half hour later. He’s got a bag of frozen peas pressed to his nose and his head tilted back against the headrest.

“I’m very grateful for their frozen peas.”

“I think you might have been less grateful if you’d forked out a hundred bucks for your gourmet meal, only to find out the peas cost seventy-nine cents in the freezer aisle.”

He grins, lolling his head to face me from the passenger seat. “It was very nice of them to comp the meal.”

Stopping at a red light, I glance over at him. Streetlights flicker across his milky skin. His dress shirt, now stained and crumpled, is unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the light dusting of dark hair gathered there.

I’m struck with howbeautifulmy best friend is. It’s not that I haven’t noticed before, but it’s the difference between knowing it’s cold outside and feeling the icy wind whipping against your skin. Alex’s artistry is undeniable. The way his inky scruff paints his jawline in shadow. How his brown eyes turn from smooth, decadent caramel to rich, dark chocolate depending on his mood. The way his hair looks better as the day goes on, when the pomade starts to lose hold and the waves loosen and tumble around his face.

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