Outside the Lines(24)

“That’s almost my lunch break,” I say with a smile. Our eyes meet and he parts his lips. My heart skips a beat like a school girl eyeballing her crush across the cafeteria. “What kind of class are you talking to?”

He shrugs. “I’m not too sure. I’ll find out when I get there.”

I shake my head. “Thanks again for bringing me my wallet.”

“I’m glad I did,” he says and turns. We walk to the door together. “Good night, Felicity. See you Friday.”

“Yeah, Friday,” I say. He doesn’t lean in for a kiss or even give me a hug. He flashes that grin, and now I know he’s completely aware how charming he looks when he does it. I close the door and practically skip into my room for bed.





*





“You have got to knock it out of the park Friday night,” Cameron says to me, holding a spoonful of yogurt in the air. It’s Thursday morning, and I’m sitting in his office. “I’m talking tits out, dark eyeliner, and red lipstick. Stuff straight guys like.”

“Red lipstick doesn’t look good on me,” I say, stomach churning.

“It’s supposed to make you look more sexual, like remind men of how they want to put it in you or some nasty shit like that.”

My eyebrows push together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Cameron shrugs. “I saw an article on Facebook about it, and that’s the real reason behind lipstick. To remind men that women have holes to stick it in.” He holds his hand up. “Their words, not mine. But isn’t the point of makeup to make you look more sexually attractive?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just to make you feel pretty?”

“You are too innocent sometimes with your viewpoints,” he sighs. “But seriously. You gotta take it up a notch.”

“You really think the gaming friend-zoned him?” The knot in my stomach tightens.

Cameron shrugs. “I can’t say. Adam thinks so.”

“Why can’t I be friends with a guy and go out with him and have sexual feelings or whatever? Why does it have to be one or the other?”

“You do become friends with people, but that’s later.”

I nod. My dream guy is the hot and sexy knight in shining armor, but he’s also my friend. He’s someone I can have steamy sex with, and can lounge around the couch in my PJs playing video games with. I want the best of both worlds.

Am I wrong to think that’s possible?

The strong, brooding, alpha-male is fine in fiction, but in real life, all that pushing up against a wall and fucking does not a real relationship make. I’ll have days when I’m not in the mood. I’ll have days when I’m sick and not attractive. I want the orgasm-so-hard-I-can’t-walk sex and love and friendship.

“And you think I can fix this?”

“Oh of course.” He takes another bite of yogurt. “You just have to show him you’re more than one of the guys.”

I nod, thinking I should probably listen to Cameron. He’s always given me great advice before, yet there is a knot in my stomach—a separate knot from the friend-zone knot—that says I should just be me. I want a relationship, not a one-night stand. Yeah, sex with a hot guy would be great too, but I can’t deny the deep-down longing for something long term.

Someday, right?

Someday I’ll figure this crap we call life out and learn how to fully ignore society’s definition of what a woman should be, from the way we look and dress to the way we’re supposed to clean the house, raise the kids, and have dinner ready and waiting on the table.

Someday.





CHAPTER SEVEN





I stand on the closed toilet, precariously balancing on tall heels, and snap a picture of myself in the mirror. I carefully jump down, wishing I had another way to get a full body shot of my reflection in the mirror in my bathroom, and send the picture to Erin.

I rush into my closet and change my top, slipping a silky black tank top on, and quickly shimmy into a pair of dark jeans. I ditch the heels, opting to holding them in my other hand instead of risking falling and breaking my neck before the date with Ben. I send her another picture, then move to the sink to take the hot rollers out of my hair.

A few seconds later she replies, saying both her and her hubby like outfit number two better. Good. I won’t have to change again. With much care, I loosen the curls and create a new hole in the Ozone with hairspray, touch up my makeup, and accessorize with a red-jeweled necklace, matching earrings, and a black bracelet. I sit on the closed toilet to put on a pair of tall black heels, tastefully spotted with gold and scarlet gems. Yes, they are Gryffindor shoes, and yes, I fucking love them.