“Right, right. I just changed it too, like a month ago. I haven’t lived here that long and put off changing it because, well, who likes the DMV?”

He laughs and meets my eyes. “I don’t think anyone does.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Really. I’d be screwed in the morning without it. My car is on E.” I swallow. I should invite him in, right? Will that give the wrong implication? Do I care if it does, is probably the better question. I stare at him, suddenly terrified, as if he’s a vampire and by inviting him in, I’m giving him some sort of power over me.

Maybe I should wait for our date Friday. I’ll be prepared, dressed up, and maybe a little drunk.

Mosquitoes swarm around my door already, and when a moth swoops in, I know I have to close it or bust out the leftover tulle material from my fabric bin and make a net to sleep under.

“Want to come in?” I ask.

Ben is still looking at me. He hesitates, then smiles. “Sure.” He steps in and I close the door behind him. “You look like you’re ready for bed. Sorry if I woke you.”

“I was still up. Just playing games.” I step out of my little foyer and toss my wallet onto the recliner chair in the living room. Silence comes between us and I regret asking him to come inside. I have no idea what should happen next. What would happen in a book or movie?

We could hook up, have passionate semi-one-night-standish sex then go out Friday? Yeah, don’t think so. Sleeping with Ben tonight would make our first date not really a first, and then, shit. I don’t know.

I need to get better at this thing called being social.

“What game were you playing?” he asks, eyeing the PlayStation.

“The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt,” I say and try with every fiber of my being not to fear the Gamer Girl stereotypes. I fucking hate them. The whole Nerd Girl stereotype pisses me the fuck off, to be honest. I’d been quizzed more than once on my “knowledge” at a convention, and I only resisted punching the misogynistic asshat in the face to avoid being kicked out.

“I haven’t played that one yet,” Ben says. “But I want to. I haven’t—is that a Nintendo 64?” His eyes go wide.

“Yeah, saved from my childhood.”

“I haven’t played one of those in years. It still works?”

I nod. “It does. I have all the controllers and games from it too. Mario Kart on the 64 is still my favorite.”

Ben looks back at me with a smile. “Can we play?” He blinks quickly, as if he’s embarrassed for asking. “I mean, if you have to go to bed, I understand. Sometimes I forget most people get up early and have set hours since I don’t.”

My heart is about ready to jump out of my chest. “Yeah, we can play a few rounds.” I know I’m tired and need sleep, but a few rounds won’t hurt anything. “And I’m jealous of your lack of hours.”

He takes off his shoes. “It’s nice.”

I get out the game and two controllers, handing one to Ben. I let him chose his character first, watching intently like it’s an online personality test. It won’t tell you anything worthwhile, but it’s so important nonetheless.

He chooses Mario.

Safe move.  You can’t go wrong with Mario. I’m Toad, and we start the first Grand Prix race.

I win. Ben gets third. Not too shabby for not having played in years. A small part of me wonders if I should let him win the next race, since he’s in second the entire third lap. I can’t do it. I’m too competitive when it comes to games. Is that a flaw?

We end up placing first and second when races are over. The little celebration comes up on the screen. I watch it like I care, a little nervous to look at Ben. I want him to stay and play another round, but at the same time I’m so fucking tired from staying up so late.

“Well,” he says and set the controller on the coffee table. “I should get some sleep. I’m a guest speaker at an art class early tomorrow.” He stands and offers me a hand to help me off the couch. “And by early, I mean ten AM.”

“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.