Lauren stares over the table at me. “You friend zoned Stone Steele?” She laughs and shakes her head. “Only you, Phoenix. Only you.”

“Well, he was getting all touchy feely and kissing me in graveyards.”

She looks up with noodles hanging from her mouth before she coughs them out. “In graveyards?”

“Yeah, it was… never mind. Look, I can’t get involved with him.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not stupid?”

“No, you’re stupid for not getting involved with him.” She crams more noodles inside her mouth and grabs her wine.

I stare down at my plate, twirling the noodles around my fork, wondering if maybe she’s right. “Voss…” I start.

“Voss was Voss. I told you, he was a raging dick. Stone actually seems alright.”

“He’s great, but—”

“But what? He’s a rocker so he’s off limits because Voss was a dick dribble? That’s like saying any man with a penis is off limits because most guys, rocker or not, are dick dribbles, Phoenix. Hate to break it to you.”

The lady in the booth next to us glances over and clears her throat. Lauren turns toward her. “Sorry, I like to use the word dick and fuck in my vocabulary, but I’ll try to keep it down.”

The woman’s eyes widen and her cheeks redden before she turns back to her dinner party.

“Your mom has to be so proud that all that you’ve turn into such a proper lady.”

“She prays for my soul every night, I’m sure,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Lauren snorts into her wine glass. “Anyway, I think you should unfriend zone him.”

I cram the noodles inside my mouth, the spicy twang causing my eyes to water.

Lauren’s brow wrinkles. “Are you…crying?”

“No,” I fan my mouth. “It’s hot.”

“Oh, I was about to say… anyway, unfriend zone him. Like have him over for dinner or some shit and then yank his pants off and hump his brains out.”

I swallow and take a needed sip of water. “Hump his brains out.”

“It’s my answer to everything. Don’t question it. It’s sound advice.”

“Of course it is.”

I finish my dinner and excuse myself to the restroom, and when I come back, Lauren has my phone in her hands, her fingers jabbing wildly over the screen.

“What are you doing?” I go to snatch my phone from her, but she yanks away from me.

“A favor.”

“Lauren…”

She gives the screen one more tap, smiles, and drops my phone on the table. “And no need to thank me, you’re already welcome.”

My heart beats faster and faster as I reach for my phone. I go to the screen still lit up and gasp as I read the text she sent Stone: I miss you. Come over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook some pot pie for you. <3 <3 “You did not!” I nearly growl.

“Oh, I did.” She grins.

“Miss you? You told him I missed him, and that I would cook fucking pot pie for him? I don’t even know what the fuck pot pie is.”

“It’s a pie like thing with stuff in it.”

I glare at her. “You don’t even know what it is.”

She shrugs. “It sounded Martha Stewarty.”

I point at her. “I am going to kill you.”

“No, you won’t, you just need to get laid to take the edge off.”

“I don’t want to get laid, and I don’t want to feed him pot pie!”

“So testy.” She laughs. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Playing house with a rocker, you can go all Stepford Wife and shit.”

My eye starts to twitch as I stare across the table at her.

“See,” she points at me, “that’s Voss’s sperm demons bubbling to the surface. You need to get your vagina exorcised. Quick. And, thanks to me, soon enough you’ll be screaming, ‘this vagina is clean’,” she says mimicking that creepy old lady from The Poltergeist.

The woman at the table next to us is now staring with her mouth open.

“Come on, Lauren.” I push away from the table. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It could have been worse, trust me. It could have included a promise of anal beads and an ass so slick it’s like a Slip and Slide.”

Covering my face with my hands, I make a beeline for the front of the restaurant. My phone dings in my hand and I glance down at the text from Stone: I miss you too, friend. I love pot pie. <3

Lauren’s peeking over my shoulder and squeals. “Aw, see, he put a little heart.” She walks around in front of me and clasp her hands together. “I’m so good at this.”

“Well, you better be good at cooking a pot pie is all I can say.”

“Me?” She holds her hand over her chest and takes a step back.

“Yes, you. The least you can do is help me.”

“Well, that’s just asking for disaster, but whatever.”

Sometimes in life you question why you are best friends with a person. That is me. Right now. Not only did she make me seem like some whiny cunt, she promised pot pie! Pot pie! Like I’m some 40s house wife. So now Lauren—my best friend—has committed me to cook. And he’s going to eat. And then what? I’ll be stuck alone with a guy I tried to friend zone although I want to ride him like I stole him.

Amazing. Simply amazing.