He had blond hair and dressed like he was about to take out the sailboat after throwing his millions to the peasants.”
I laugh at his description. “You mean Dean?”
“That’s the one,” he says, smiling toward Preston.
“I broke up with him, like, six months ago. How do you even know about him?” I try to think back to a time when I may have introduced them, but like Danny said, we haven’t seen each other in a year and Dean and I only dated for about four months.
“Your boy told me.” He gestures toward Preston.
I look over at him. “Why are you telling your friends my business?”
Danny laughs. “Oh, so I guess we’re not friends now?”
“You know what I mean,” I mumble, still waiting on an answer from Preston, but he looks like he’s been caught in a lie.
“I didn’t like the asshole. That’s why.”
“You only met him one time,” I argue.
“Yeah, but I had to hear about him every time we talked. Felt like I was dating the guy,” he laughs out.
I sit back and shake my head, picking up my beer and taking a drink. Part of me hopes that Preston was bothered by Dean because he secretly has a thing for me, but I’m not sure I can convince myself of that. I think back to all the times we’ve danced together, cuddled, or did anything else in close proximity . . . but he’s never made a move. That speaks louder than anything else. If he wanted me, he would’ve made it known like he has with so many other girls. I need to let it go.
“Well, what about you and Tracy?” I ask Danny, needing to occupy my mind.
“We’re still together. Going on 10 years now.”
“What? No way! You guys fought worse than the two of us,” I joke, nudging Preston.
“They still do,” Preston says quietly.
Danny shoots him a look. “Yeah, we fight and argue. What couple doesn’t? We’ve been together for a decade! But there’s no way I’m putting that kind of time into training someone new.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, right. You mean you don’t want to waste another 10 years getting retrained by another woman. That’s what we do for you boys, you know. We whip you into shape in the hope of you being the one. When you’re not, you move on to your next master.”
Both guys take offense to that and they’re booing me and trying to talk over me to prove their points, all while I sit back laughing.
As the hours pass, the beer goes down smoothly and we’ve even had a few shots. Danny is sitting next to me, telling me about his motorcycle business and how he plans to ask Tracy to marry him. Preston leans against the bar, hitting on his next conquest. I try my best to listen to Danny, but all I can focus on is Preston and the way he’s looking at the woman he’s talking to. His blue eyes are lit up like the sun is shining against them. He keeps offering her his flirty grin, wetting his lips to make them glisten. And every so often, he makes an excuse to lightly touch her: he’s picked up the charm on her necklace, he’s brushed imaginary lint off her shoulder, and he’s even found an excuse to run the tip of his finger across her cheek. He’s never done any of that with me.
If I had something on my face, he didn’t brush it away for me. Most of the time he didn’t even tell me because he thought it’d be funnier to watch me walk around like that. If he liked my necklace, he never reached out to touch it. He’d simply say, “Hey, cool necklace—which douchebag gave you that?” And as far as touching my shoulder or arm, he usually tackled me to the ground in an attempt to torture me. I’ve heard guys talk about being stuck in the friend zone, but I didn’t realize it happened to girls.
I guess maybe I should start a friend zone club for girls. We could sit in a big circle, pass a bottle of wine, and tell each other about the guy who just couldn’t see us as anything more than their friend. I’ll call it End Zone. Get it? Like friEND, meaning the end of this bullshit relationship we’re stuck in.
But honestly, I don’t want to end the relationship I have with Preston. I love him. He’s my best