8. There’s nothing sexy about tampondeodorant shopping.
8
"There’s nothing sexy about tampon or deodorant shopping."
Aaron Miles
What is Marissa doing? Why is she not raising her paddle? I have no idea what’s happening right now, but she needs to keep going.
“Sold!” the announcer yells, pointing to the girl on the other side of the stage. “To number forty-eight.”
My heart drops to my shoes. For a split second, I thought things were about to change. Marissa was bidding on me. For a date . That could have been the nudge I needed to stop being a coward. Maybe she’s s till interested in me after all this time. Maybe she’s feeling what I am. Or maybe I’m just delusional, because she didn’t raise her paddle for the final bid.
The other woman jumps to her feet and waves at me. I wave back, then adjust my cap.
“All right,” the announcer calls. “Give it up for Aaron Miles, who holds the highest bid so far tonight by a long shot!”
I guess that’s my cue to get off stage. As I turn to leave, I catch Marissa’s gaze, and she flashes a smile. It almost looks like one of her fake, forced smiles, but with the glare of the spotlight, I can’t be sure. But then, her smile widens, and she claps hard.
It’s not a forced smile, Aaron. Because she’s happy for you.
Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I smile back, then wave at the crowd as I leave the stage.
“You did great, son,” Coach says, slapping a hand on my shoulder when I reach the bottom of the steps. “I guess Marissa heard all about that bet you had going on, right?”
I frown in confusion, but then it hits me. The bet. Right. Everything makes sense now. That’s why she bid on me.
“She handed you that win,” he adds. “Thank goodness she stopped in time, though, because I’m pretty sure I would have been the one writing the check.” He laughs before walking away. “Have fun with Angela. She’s my good friend John’s niece. Treat her well.”
I sit down at one of the tables, trying to process what just happened.
Another large hand slaps my back. “Looks like we have a winner.”
“Congrats, man!” Hawthorne says, standing in front of me. Beaumont pulls up a chair beside me, bumping my shoulder.
They keep congratulating me, but I’ve never felt like such a loser in my life.
The event wraps up, and it was a huge success. The most money the team has ever pulled in for a charity, and we’re all feeling proud.
“Hey, Hotshot,” Marissa says, bumping her fist on my shoulder like a dude-bro. “The big winner of the night.”
“Right.” I smile, adjusting my cap. “Thanks for the assist, Martin.”
She gives me a little bow. “At your service. We couldn’t exactly let James win. He’s already too cocky for his own good.”
I chuckle, scratching my jaw. “Right.”
“And on top of that, the charity got some big bucks tonight. Of course, that’s another reason why I stepped in,” she says, twirling the ends o f her strawberry-blonde hair.
I look away, trying to contain my disappointment. “Yeah. I’m happy for them.”
“And the girl who won the bid is pretty,” she adds, her blue eyes drilling into mine. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. Who knows? Maybe she’s the love of your life.” She chokes out a snort.
I force a small chuckle. “Maybe, yeah.”
“Anyway, ready to go home?” she asks. “Or are you going out with the guys?”
“Nah. I need some sleep.”
“Let’s go home then, Roomie.”
Balling my fists, I force myself to take a long, deep breath. I really need to get out of this funk. I used to be fine with being Marissa’s friend, but living together is starting to mess things up. But it can’t. She’s giving me all the friendzone signals, and I’m receiving them loud and clear. Not that anything else could happen anyway.
Marissa Martin
I tossed and turned all night, imagining Aaron and that girl laughing together and holding hands. Then, she morphed into a dozen different girls , each prettier and skinnier than the next. But it won’t stay a nightmare for long.
Aaron hasn’t dated seriously in a while, but it will happen. And I have to do the same. My breakup with Eddy hit me hard. He cheated and lied, and after he left my heart shattered, I took refuge in my book boyfriends.
But I have to think about putting myself out there again. Otherwise, I’ll just keep pining over my best friend for the rest of my life, and I’ll become a hermit with an Aaron shrine in my attic or something.
It would be a very hot shrine, but still. That’s not what I want for my life.
“Oh, by the way,” Aaron says, striding from the kitchen as I’m putting my winter boots on. I’m opening today, so no Chef Miles breakfast for me. “I’m going to the store after practice. Do you need anything?”
I contort myself to pull the zipper on my boot, and it leaves me a little breathless. That, or seeing Aaron’s rock-hard abs again. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Deodorant, shampoo, tampons? I’m pretty sure you’re almost out.”
My throat constricts. “Um.”
“I’ll get some, just in case. Heavy flow with applicator, right?”
I freeze, and I’m pretty sure m y face is as red as the coat I’m wearing.
“Is that wrong?” he asks, frowning.
I snap myself out of it. “No, that’s right. Thanks. I have to go.” I give him a small wave and hustle out the door without looking back.
That was the slap in the face I needed. Because how can I even spend a minute pining over Aaron when the guy buys me tampons! And knows WHAT KIND I USE! We’re too close to be closer than friends. That shouldn’t make any sense, but weirdly, it does. There’s nothing sexy about tampon or deodorant shopping. Our relationship is sealed as friendship for the rest of eternity, and it’s probably better that way. He doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend—or maybe a girl with a heavy flow—and I need to be fine with that. I am fine with that. Well, okay. The heavy flow thing is kind of embarrassing, but there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s nature.
One thing I can do, however, is stop obsessing over a guy who’s way too hot for me and who happens to be my best friend. My move-a-body friend—not that we ever had to move a dead body in our fifteen years of friendship. The only thing we ever buried was a time capsule in high school. The point is, I know he would break the law for me. We’re that close, and a friendship like ours has to be protected at all costs. It’s rare and precious. I’m lucky to have him in my life, and I won’t ruin it with some stupid lingering feelings from sixth grade. I don’t have to think about putting myself out there. I have to do it, and fast.
I use my workday as therapy. Every time a guy comes in, I try to identify one feature of his that’s more attractive than Aaron. So far, I got a forehead, ears, and nails. Okay, the exercise is not going great, and it’s also not fair to the other guys. Aaron is a professional athlete. His body is his work tool, so he spends hours maintaining and strengthening it. And anyway, looks aren’t everything.
Beth is helping her parents today, so I have a lot of time on my hands. As I sit down on the stool behind the counter, I can’t help but steal a chocolate chip cookie from the display. I love this new recipe we came up with, and I just put a fresh batch in the oven. The taste is impossible to resist. Even if I know it’ll go straight to my hips.
The bell on the door jangles, and a guy saunters into the coffee shop. My eyes linger on his body, searching for a feature that would beat Aaron’s, until my gaze lands on his face, and I gasp.
“Marissa!” he says at the same time.
“Greg! Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Greg and I met in college. We dated very briefly, and after breaking it off, we remained on good terms.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, chuckling as I step out from behind the counter to give him a swift hug. “I just moved to the city. I’m working downtown, and I rent an apartment a couple of blocks from here.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I smile, then gesture to the space around me. “Well, this is my shop. I co-own it with Beth Bowen. Do you remember her?”
“I do.” His dark-blue eyes sweep the room. “That’s great, and I love all the Raptors decor. I heard about your dad coaching them, but you know me. Still not a fan of the game.”
I breathe out a quiet laugh. “I know. And yeah, it’s been great living close to him again.”
His watch pings, and he glances at it. “Shoot. I really have to get going. Can I get a large black coffee to go? And one of those cookies.”
“Of course.”
I swing back behind the counter to get his order ready.
“It was good running into you again, Marissa,” he says with a grin as he pays for his order. “Maybe we can grab dinner or drinks sometime? I don’t really know anyone outside of work yet, and it would be nice to have a night out.”
“I’d love to.” I grab a business card from the counter and scribble my personal number on it. “Text me, and we’ll figure something out.”
“Great.” He flashes a bright smile and waves goodbye to me with his cookie, making me laugh.
How crazy is it to run into Greg after all this time? Especially on the day I decide to open myself up to dating again.
Nope . Not going there.
I heave a sigh, leaning on the counter. That’s what I do. I take shortcuts and jump to conclusions every time something happens. It’s not “fate” or “written in the stars” or whatever. It’s just a coincidence, an opportunity even. A reminder that there are other men out there, and I should keep an open mind.