Sign Me Up by Dulcie Dameron
Jamie
the most humiliating day of my life, I lay slumped on the couch in my Hello Kitty robe, wondering where I went wrong. Was it when I started working for the Gazette two years ago or somewhere in between?
Maybe it was when I decided to be a hero and give Les Jenkins the thrill of a lifetime. I had no idea when I agreed to ride the camel with him that I’d be thrown from the animal, eating dirt in the process. It looked perfectly safe at the time. I watched another couple ahead of us ride without a hitch.
Sure, I was apprehensive, as anyone who is boarding a larger-than-life animal would be, but I never would have suspected that things would take such an embarrassing turn. It was bad enough knowing Parker and my other co-workers were watching, let alone finding out all of Jordy’s ten thousand Instagram followers had too.
Who knew she had that many followers, anyway? I mean, it just seems excessive. And another thing, who goes live on Instagram while their co-worker is being thrown from a camel’s back? Who, I ask, who?!
“Are you going to sit there all night and sulk?” Daria’s unsympathetic voice jerks me out of my self-loathing.
I send her a stern glare. “Possibly.” Picking up the remote, I scroll through the romantic comedy options on Netflix. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”
Daria plants her hands on her slender hips and stares me down. “Yes, I have a date. But I also have a best friend who got thrown off a camel today, so if you’re going to pout and want someone to whine to, I’m here. If not, I’ll go. You decide.”
Leave it to Daria to get straight to the point. I love that my friend is blunt and brutally honest, but sometimes I wish she’d be gentle and coddle me like I’m five. I sigh. Just because I’m miserable doesn’t mean she should be too.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to water my plant babies and watch something funny while eating a pint of Rocky Road.” I tilt my head from side to side. “I may even listen to some Shania. She always puts me in a better mood.”
Daria’s lips tick upward into a small smile as she crosses her arms. “Why don’t you text Parker? Maybe he can keep you company while I’m out.”
My stomach flip-flops and I pull my robe a smidge tighter. “Uh, no. I won’t be texting Parker. He witnessed that whole debacle today. The last thing I want is to rehash what happened and see the pity in his eyes. Plus, I think I scared the poor guy to death.”
Daria laughs. “Oh, I know you did. Don’t forget, we all saw how he raced to get to you when you went tumbling. In fact…,” Daria swipes her phone off the kitchen counter and scrolls through it. “It looks like fifty-six thousand plus people saw Parker rush to your aid today.”
I groan and plant my face into the couch cushion. I have a love/hate relationship with social media. I love how easy it can be to connect with people, especially through writing and blogging, but I also hate how everyone is so connected. My embarrassing moment from earlier has reached viral status in just a matter of hours.
“Don’t remind me,” I mumble into the cushion. Daria’s laugh echoes down the hall.
“I probably won’t be long tonight, anyway,” Daria calls from the bathroom. “This is a first date, remember? If the guy lasts past the first twenty minutes, I’ll be surprised.”
Sometimes, I don’t understand my friend. She’s stunning and fun and has no trouble finding dates. But she can also be as prickly as a cactus when it comes to men. She’s not lying when she says that most of the guys she dates don’t make it past the first twenty minutes. It’s like Daria makes it her personal mission to run every interested guy off. If they do manage to last past one date, they never usually make it more than a couple of weeks before she’s naming every single one of their flaws and moving on.
I’d like to put all the blame onto my friend for her serial dating ways, but I can’t. Her hard exterior and verbal armor seem to be products of never having anyone to rely on in her younger years as she was passed from foster home to foster home. Plus, her cheating ex in college didn’t help soften her any to the opposite sex.
The clacking of her heels across the hardwood floor draws my attention. When she does a little spin in front of me, I whistle. “Dang, girl, you look hot!”
“Thanks! It was my first time sewing an off-the-shoulder top but I kinda like it.”
“Me too! I guarantee your date will last more than twenty minutes once he sees you like this.”
She shakes her head, adjusting her armful of bracelets. “We shall see.” Grabbing her purse from the coffee table, she heads for the front door. “I’ll see you later, alligator.” She opens the door, then stops and turns. “Just promise me you won’t order the popcorn shrimp from Pow Kow tonight, okay?” She gags then finishes with, “Last time you mixed shrimp with ice cream, it wasn’t pretty.”
I wave her off. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I have no desire to wake up tomorrow in a pile of my own—”
“Ew! Stop! I’m leaving.” Daria shoves her fingers in her ears as she walks out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
I laugh and snuggle deeper into my robe. Pulling a fuzzy blanket off the back of the couch, I scoot into a more comfortable position, lying on my side. As I scroll through Netflix, my phone buzzes underneath me. I grumble, shifting to reach it. When I tap the screen, there’s a text from Parker. My stomach immediately takes an odd little dip.
Parker: How’s it going, Camel Whisperer?
I roll my eyes. I want to be mad that he’s making fun of me, but I can never be mad at him.
Me: Never been better. Not only am I internet famous now, but I also have a goose egg the size of Ohio on my left knee. I think I should probably ice it. So, ya know, I’m just living the dream over here!
Parker: Aw, I’m sorry, James. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. Want me to bring you an ice pack? Or snacks? I think we’re due a movie night, anyway.
Once again, my stomach takes a dive like I just crested the hill of a small rollercoaster, especially at his use of my nickname. I shift from my side and sit up, hoping the change in position will get me off this ride.
Me: No, that’s OK. I’d rather wallow in my shame alone tonight.
Parker: ☹
Me: No, seriously. I’m fine. I’m just sitting on the couch about to turn a movie on.
Parker: I can be there in ten…
Me: Stahhhpppp. I don’t need you to coddle me tonight. I’m perfectly fine questioning all of my life choices by myself, thank you.
Parker: K. Be there in 10.
I sigh and fall back against the couch cushions. Let it be known that I did try to thwart his attempt to baby me. Not that I wouldn’t love to have his company… I’m just still so embarrassed after today.
Against my better judgment, I watched the little incident that was plastered all over social media an hour ago. And let me tell you, if I hadn’t been the one falling off the camel, I would have seen it and instantly laughed my head off. It was hilarious. I get why it went viral so quickly. But I’m finding out that being the butt of a joke isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
In the two hours that I’ve been home, I’ve received dozens of messages on my social pages asking if I’m okay or if they can get my hot rescuer’s number. Not to mention the frantic call from Mike that said he saw the whole thing online and wanted to make sure I was okay.
It took five minutes to convince him I was fine and didn’t need him checking up on me. Yet again, he insisted he still has feelings for me and urged me to think about giving him another chance. Like I need to deal with that right now. Ugh.
My phone buzzes again.
Parker: Should I bring Rocky Road or Mint Chocolate Chip?
I smile at the way he knows me so well.
Me: I’m already locked and loaded. Thanks though. Just make sure you bring an extra blanket. I don’t feel like sharing tonight.
Parker: ☹ Alright. If you insist.
I stare at the frowny emoji for longer than necessary. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was being a tad flirty with me. He would never normally make a sad face at a comment like that. Was he hoping to share a blanket with me?
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I run to the bathroom to make sure I look presentable. My reflection in the mirror above the sink reveals my top knot is a little lopsided, so I tighten it and run a makeup wipe over my face. I don’t need to add smudged makeup to the list of things Parker can make fun of me for.
As of right now, he’s got quite the list. Falling out of my chair at work and flashing him my one and only pair of lacy pink undies? Check. Being a co-conspirator to the accidental electrocution of a minor? Check. Falling off a camel’s back in front of all my co-workers? Also check. Having said incident recorded live for everyone on the interwebs to witness? Quadruple check.
I lose the Hello Kitty robe, thinking it’s not exactly movie-watching-with-your-boy-bestie attire. Thankfully, the pink sweatpants and gray T-shirt I have on underneath don’t have any stains or holes, so I don’t need to change. I hurry and tidy up a bit so Parker won’t think Daria and I live like slobs. There’s not much to clean up, but there are a few dirty dishes on the counter and a bra hanging in the bathroom.
As soon as I get ready to plop back down on the couch, the doorbell rings. I answer it, totally unprepared for the vision of sexy comfort that is my best friend. Parker looks even better than he did earlier. He’s freshly showered, wearing gray sweatpants with a white T-shirt that stretches taut over his chest and conveniently hugs his biceps. He smiles down at me with his fluffy blanket in one hand and a bag of pizza rolls in the other.
I give him an appraising look. “I told you I was locked and loaded.”
He simply smiles wider and shrugs. I wave him in, and he sets the food on the counter, then immediately turns to me and signs, Did youeat?
I shake my head. I wasn’t planning to eat real food tonight, just binge on ice cream. Not that I classify pizza rolls as real food, but I know Parker does. He turns to the cabinet beside the stove and grabs a baking sheet. After tearing open the bag of pizza rolls, he spreads them out in a thin layer, sets them in the oven, and adjusts it to the right time and temperature.
Turning to me, he signs, Let’s ice that goose egg, then leans into the freezer and grabs a bag of frozen peas.
When he comes around the kitchen island toward me, I’m stuck in place, my eyes glued to him. He’s always been such a good friend to me, but tonight feels different. He’s taking care of me in a way that feels more than friendly. More like, boy-friendly.
As he approaches, he sets the peas on the counter and looks me up and down. Is pink your favorite color now?
When I don’t immediately respond, he points at my legs. Understanding dawns and he grins from ear to ear. I rush forward to swat his arm, but he’s too fast. He giggles as he runs around my kitchen island, evading my reach.
Out of breath from chasing him, I pout and sign, You’re mean.
He mock frowns with a remorseful look. I’m sorry. I promise, I’ll stop. Coming toward me, he places his hands on my shoulders and steers me toward the couch. Once there, he motions for me to sit and tosses my blanket at me, laughing when it pelts me in the face.
The turd.
After grabbing the bag of peas and gently placing it on my knee, he situates himself beside me on the couch. My stomach tightens when he grabs his own fuzzy blanket and drapes it over both of us. Parker’s manly, freshly showered scent wraps around me and I want nothing more than to snuggle up against him, close my eyes and breathe him in while nestling my face into his nicely defined chest.
But I don’t. Because friends don’t do that kind of thing, right?
Instead, I grab the remote and scroll through our viewing options for the evening, double checking that the captions are on.
After asking him what he feels like watching, and him just shrugging in response, I go to my usual favorites. When he spots My Best Friend’s Wedding, he taps my hand and points. I click on the movie and sink further under my blanket. This one is a favorite of mine, but I’m kind of surprised that Parker chose it. He almost always just lets me pick.
When the buzzer on the oven sounds, I start to rise, but Parker grabs a hold of my wrist. Let me. They’re done?
At my nod, Parker hops up and goes into the kitchen. A minute later, he returns with two plates loaded down with pizza rolls and two flavored sparkling waters tucked under his arm.
I smile as he hands me one of each and sign, Thank you.
Neither of us tries to make conversation as we eat and watch the movie together. But I love the way Parker chuckles when something strikes him as funny. His laugh is so genuine. He never tries to stifle it to keep from disturbing someone else, he just is who he is without caring what others think of him.
He turns and meets my gaze, a question in his eyes. Ready for ice cream?
I shake my head and pat my stomach. “I’m so full, I don’t think I can right now.”
Parker feigns shock and falls back against the couch cushions. I playfully bump his shoulder and he returns my smile. Then he does something so unexpected, I don’t know how to properly respond. He sprawls out onto the opposite end of the couch and motions for me to lay beside him.
I trail my eyes over him, confused. But that doesn’t deter Parker. He just leans toward me and tugs my arm until I fall against him on my side, facing the TV, bag of peas forgotten. He readjusts his body, giving me a bit more room, and pulls me close against his chest, his arms snaking around my stomach.
Butterflies swoop in my midsection when his thumb moves back and forth against my side. I wish I found this position uncomfortable, but I don’t. In fact, I’m now so comfortable that I find myself leaning my head back against Parker’s solid chest. We fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle that were designed to snap into place.
Parker’s steady, even breathing soothes my frayed nerves and my eyelids begin to droop.
Who knows how many hours later, there’s a tug on my foot, jostling me awake. Groggy, I open my eyes to find that I’m still snuggled up against Parker and the room is completely dark aside from the faint glow of the TV. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s clear that we fell asleep a while ago. Parker is quietly snoring, half-underneath me from behind. I smile to myself as I close my eyes again, breathing him in.
But then I remember that someone woke me up.
Daria stands at the end of the couch, staring down at us wide-eyed. I blink up at her, afraid to move and wake the man beside me. I realize how this probably looks…Parker and me tangled up together on the couch…But I don’t want to have to be the one to wake him.
Daria crosses her arms as her eyes drift between me and Parker. “What happened here?” she asks in a hoarse whisper.
“We fell asleep watching a movie. No big deal.” We probably don’t have to whisper while Parker gently snoozes, but it feels necessary.
“I see that,” Daria says. “But I thought you didn’t want him to come over tonight. Something about you not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.” Daria sends me a look that says she’s on to me.
But she’s wrong. She’s not onto anything. There’s nothing going on between my male bestie and me. Nothing more than comfortable, easy-breezy friendship that is currently manifesting itself as a strictly platonic boy/girl sleepover.
Parker starts to stir, and Daria hightails it from the room, apparently not wanting him to see her. I close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping. Parker lets out a heavy sigh, his warm breath rustling my hair.
His head jerks from side to side, like he’s trying to remember where he’s at, then stills. My body thrums with fanciful, girlish sensations when Parker turns his lips into my temple and presses the gentlest of kisses there while pulling me tighter against him.
I’m stunned.
Shocked.
Every inch of my body is frozen while the spot where his warm, plush lips touched me burns hot, seared as if from a branding iron.
Parker shifts again until he lifts off the couch. I roll onto my side, facing the couch, still pretending to be asleep. There’s no way I’m letting him know I was awake during our little head kissing sesh. The next thing I know, he’s laying his blanket over top of me and tucking it around my shoulders. My insides twist and turn into a big pile of jelly.
I want to simultaneously scream and swoon and jump for joy.
And I don’t even know why.
When Parker opens and closes the front door, I slowly turn and stare into the darkness, hoping he really did leave. If he caught me awake, my ruse would be up.
The next second, Daria tiptoes out to the living area. “Is he gone?”
I bolt upright on the couch, still in shock that my best friend kissed me and snuggled me while I slept. I send a silent thanks to God for not letting Daria witness that little moment.
Daria stalks toward me with a devilish smile on her face. “And here I thought I’d be coming home to cheer up my sad friend with a cautionary tale of why not to date guys from dating apps, and instead, I find her cozied up to her work husband on our couch. And she didn’t seem sad at all. Nope, she was blissfully asleep on his chest.”
“He’s not my work husband,” I say, trying and failing to defend my now impossible-to-define relationship with Parker.
“Mmhm. Sure. Then what is he?”
I avert my gaze and fiddle with the edges of Parker’s fuzzy blanket as I mentally sort out my feelings. “He’s my best friend. He’s basically you, as a guy.”
Daria’s loud laugh echoes through the room. “Honey, if what I walked in on tonight is what having a guy best friend looks like, then sign me up!” She saunters back down the hall and closes her bedroom door, signaling an end to our conversation.
I sigh and fall back on the couch. My mind spins with everything that’s transpired in the last few hours. In truth, I don’t look at Parker the same way I look at Daria. How could I?
Sure, he’s my friend, but I’m also ridiculously attracted to him.
Which is wrong. Probably the worst, most despicable thing I could do. Visions of Daria and Briar choosing to stay friends with Parker over me when we eventually crash and burn flit through my brain, but I squash them before my anxiety runs away with them.
I can’t let my trauma from what happened with Tyson run my life—and I definitely don’t want it to ruin this moment.
I turn onto my side and pull Parker’s blanket up to my nose, burying my face into it and breathing in the masculine scent that’s so uniquely him. I let out another satisfied sigh and close my eyes. Maybe just for tonight I can pretend that being attracted to my best friend is totally normal. Okay, even. Because there’s nothing I’d rather do than dream about being wrapped up in Parker Kent’s arms all night long.