Victor (Chicago Blaze 3)

For a second, I indulge the idea of texting Lindy to ask if she wants to hang out and watch SportsCenter with me. I don’t find myself alone at home much, and it’s a little too quiet in my apartment.

I’d better not, though. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. She’s a sweetheart. I want us to be friends, but nothing more. I’m not cut out for relationships, as demonstrated by the complete failure of my last one. Kristen cheated on me, which must mean she needed something she wasn’t getting from me. I’d end up breaking Lindy’s heart.

Instead, I text Easy. He says he’ll come over if we can play video games. After some eye rolling and swearing, I agree.

Easy’s fucking awful at video games—he’d never played until he was already an adult. And he always pretends there’s something wrong with the game or the controller instead of owning that it’s just him.

Better than being alone for the evening, though. And it’s also a good excuse to save my botched dinner for lunch tomorrow instead. Tonight, I’m having Chinese delivered.Chapter ElevenLindy“I can’t believe you did this.”

I run my hands over my freshly cut hair again, my voice awestruck as I tell Ari for the tenth time how much I love it.

“When you can’t afford haircuts growing up, you learn how to do it yourself,” Ari says as she packs her scissors back into a little purple bag.

“But it’s so…pretty.”

She hugs me from behind as I admire my hair in the hand-held mirror she gave me. “It’s not the haircut that’s pretty, chica, it’s you.”

I can’t help my hmm of disagreement with that. “I’ve been told so many times that I was named Belinda Boring for a reason, Ari. Everything about me matches that name. Bland brown hair, average brown eyes—”

Ari cuts me off, sounding pissed. “No hables mierda muchacha. No one talks about my best friend that way—not even you. Your hair is not…what’d you call it?”

“Bland.”

“I just colored it a nice warm brown with caramel highlights. It’s bonito, okay?”

“I know! No, it is. You’re an absolute genius, Ari. I just mean my natural color.”

She snorts. “No one’s natural color looks that great. It takes work to look your best.”

Mateo scoots into the kitchen on all fours, pushing a small toy truck along the floor.

“There’s a tunnel, Mateo!” Still sitting in the chair Ari did my hair in, I raise my legs up in the air. “Hurry, get through the tunnel!”

He grins and crawls under my legs, then takes his truck beneath the kitchen table to drive it up the legs of each chair.

“I can’t believe he’ll be three soon,” Ari says. “It’s true what they say about how fast it goes.”

“He’s such a great kid. You’re doing an awesome job.”

Her eyes soften. “Thanks. I don’t know how I’d make it without my mom and sister taking care of him while I work.”

“It takes a village, right?”

She sighs softly. “When you’re a single mom, it does.”

“Well, I want to hang out with Mateo next time we both have a day off, so you can have a day to do something you want for yourself.”

Ari waves a hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. You just gave up your whole morning to do my hair and nails and makeup. And you loaned me a top to wear tonight.”

“That’s what friends do, Lindy.” Ari looks at me with a question in her eyes. “You’ve had friends before, haven’t you?”

I shrug, my face heating. “Kind of. But none like you.”

“My chica, I’ve never had a friend like you, either. Nothing’s ever a competition with you. And you don’t judge me.”

My stomach rumbles audibly, and I put a hand over it. Not that it helps stifle the sound.

“How about if I order us some lunch?” I say, getting my phone out.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Ari pushes off the counter and opens the door of the old green refrigerator in her small apartment kitchen. “Mateo’s picky, so I’m gonna make him a grilled cheese.”

Mateo gives a yelp of approval from beneath the table.

“My kid lives on grilled cheese and fruit snacks.” Ari shakes her head.

Over several containers of Thai delivery food, Ari makes me cringe with her Tinder tales.

“Oh my God, that reminds me.” She sets down her food container on the coffee table, sitting forward on the couch. “You know that usher Amanda? The one who’s, I don’t know, in her fifties?”

“Yeah. The redhead.”

“She told me she’s on Match and she got matched with Bruce the other day.”

“No!” I recoil.

“Yeah. His profile said he’s looking for a soul-deep connection.”

“I can’t even think about Bruce that way.”

“Can you imagine him in bed?” Ari sits up taller, puffing out her chest and lowering her voice, trying to mimic Bruce. “You didn’t spread your legs wide enough! You’re not supposed to groan, I told you to moan.”