He nods. “But she can only be a friend.”
“I know.”
“Good, now let me beat your ass.” He grins as he picks up the controllers.
20
FISH
Who knew being friends with Collette St. Pierre would be fun? I didn’t think being friends with a woman you fancy would be easy,but it is. Our friendship is low-key, we aren’t in everyone’s faces with it, but most people know we’re friends, even her brothers. They keep an eye on me, but leave us alone for the most part.Surprising, I know.
Most mornings when I wake up, there’s a text from her on my phone. Something stupid like a meme or a million and one reels she’s sent me while scrolling in bed late at night. I respond back in the same way.
I’ve organized for her coffee to be delivered to her desk every morning because I remember seeing her one morning running late because she slept in and didn’t have time to grab one, and she was grumpy as hell.Like scary grumpy.None of us wants to suffer through that again, so now I make sure she always has one waiting for her. She texted me the first time it showed up with a string of question marks, and I played dumb.She knows it’s me.
We’ve been doing movie nights because she hasn’t seen the classics. The Godfather. Goodfellas. Shawshank. In return, I have to watch her stupid reality TV shows, which are genuinelythe worst things ever created by human beings. But the fact that I get to sit on her sofa with her legs across my lap while she yells at the screen about someone named Brittany making bad choices is worth the brain damage.Yes, I still think about kissing her.The need isn’t disappearing. I’m just getting better at hiding it.
At work, we’re on fire. The content we create together is the best the team has ever produced. The mini mic interviews, the behind-the-scenes stuff, the quick hits where she asks me something ridiculous and I give her an answer that makes her break character on camera. The fans eat it up. Engagement goes through the roof. Renee, her boss, gave her a raise because of it. Collette texted me the second she got out of the meeting, and I responded with a string of emojis because I’m proud of her and don’t know how else to say it without crossing a line.
The internet still ships us. The comments under every video are the same variations of‘just date already’and‘the way he looks at her.’We did a best friend trend together, hoping it would put the rumors to rest, and for the most part it has. She sends me screenshots of the thirsty comments about me, usuallyBig Fishrelated, and I’ve learned to shake it off. I’m sure she doesn’t show me the worst of it.
Evan is on board with our friendship,finally. The three of us hang out a lot. He even told me he understands now why I like her so much, which made me irrationally jealous. We had a whole conversation about it where he reassured me, he only sees her as a friend, she’s not his type, and I needed to calm the fuck down. His words. He wasn’t wrong.
The craziest thing has happened,I’m not sleeping with bunnies anymore. I’m actually not sleeping with anyone.Shocking, I know.I’m just not interested. That doesn’t mean I’m not seen with the bunnies, I have an image to maintain, but at least I am honest with the girls, I tell them I’m not sleeping withthem, but if they want the exposure, they’re welcome to hang off my arm. That way, I still look like I have this wild sex life, playing up to my playboy image, when in reality, my days and nights are spent working or with Collette and my right hand.It’s pathetic.It’s called being in love with someone you can’t have.Facts.
The only negative about the friendship is her dating life.Yep.She’s started dating. She hasn’t slept with anyone since moving to New York, and she’s mentioned more than once that she’s becoming desperate. I may have offered my services as any good best friend would. She declined and told me she’ll keep using her toys. So, because I’m selfish and a little unhinged, I sent her a box of new ones.Anonymously.She figured out it was me in about three seconds, and called me a psychopath and then thanked me, which I’m choosing to count as a win.And I also hope she thinks about me when she uses them.
My phone buzzes, and I’m on the sofa watching highlights with Evan when Collette’s name lights up the screen, so I answer.I always do.
“I need you to come get me,” she whispers.
I sit up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
This piques Evan’s interest.
“I’m on a date, but he’s a fucking weirdo, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.”
Evan glances at me. ‘Go,’ he mouths.
“Where are you?” I ask, already standing up.
“I’ll send you a pin. That Italian place on the Upper West Side. The one with the red awning.”
“What did he do?” I try to cool my temper.
“He asked me if I wanted to see his knife collection, and then showed me photos on his phone. Fish, he has a lot of knives. Like a concerning number of knives.”
What the fuck.“I’m on my way. Stay in the bathroom.”
“Obviously, I’m staying in the bathroom. Where else would I go? Back to the table with the knife enthusiast?” she sasses me.
I grab my keys and jacket.
“Need back up?” Evan asks.
“I’ve got this. You okay?” I ask him.
“I’ll let myself out.” He waves me off with his beer.