Chapter 18
. . .
Drew
Each time I open social media, a new photograph or video of Will appears. It’s like the algorithm wants me to do my job while drowning in an ocean of uninvited—and equally unhelpful—thoughts.
How many different women can this boy be pictured with in one night?
Sure, he isn’t actually making out with any of them, but if the two blondes in the photo I’m currently looking at could straddle his thick hockey thighs, I have zero doubt that they would.
“Living up to his reputation again,” Lydia singsongs in a voice that is way too upbeat to be genuine.
She continues viewing my laptop from over my shoulder, and after a few more seconds of scrolling on Instagram, I close the lid and spin around in my chair to face her.
“Can I help you?”
Like always, she perches her ass on the corner of my L-shaped desk and smirks.
“How many women do you think he’s slept with?”
Immediately, memories of berry waffles, black coffee, and brown eyes burning with desire come flooding back. After I climbed out of Will’s car and returned to the Waffle House, I sent precisely two emails out of the dozen I needed to that morning.
Truthfully, this week, I’ve been so unproductive that I might as well have taken it off sick. Will’s confession has been on repeat since the day the Rogues left for Pittsburg. The online images from this away series have only made things harder.
Was everything he said bullshit?
Was I that easy to forget after I told him that nothing could happen between us?
Maybe his attraction to me was all a joke that I somehow didn’t get?
No. There’s no way he would fuck around with me over something like that.
“Repeet will love that he’s not only insulting his teammates, but back to his playboy ways,” Lydia sarcastically adds.
“Actually …” I cross my legs over at the knee and sound every bit as satisfied as I feel to share this next bit of news with my colleague.
Lydia could only dream of receiving the kind of email I did this morning.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You can call him a bad boy or playboy, but Repeet still wants to meet with him in Brooklyn. ”
Her mouth pops open, and she immediately clamps it shut. “I thought they pulled away from a deal back in the summer.”
I lift a shoulder like their interest in my client is a mystery to me, too, when we all know exactly why Will is drawing in big-name brands—you cannot keep talent down, and his physical image makes the perfect poster boy.
I also think him meeting Kevin Rogers at the gala helped to strengthen his chances. There’s nothing like looking into someone’s eyes to gauge their level of sincerity.
Another wave of uninvited memories comes crashing to the front of my brain.
“I really fucking like you.”
Tingles accompany the gravelly tone in Will’s voice as I recall his declaration for the hundredth time.
Lydia’s gaze drops down the length of my body, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
I uncross my legs and spin back to my laptop, panicked that my body language screams of what’s happening in my head.
Don’t be ridiculous, Drew. Lydia may be a manipulative troublemaker, but she isn’t a mind reader.
“I’ll assume that you’re accompanying him to New York then?” There’s an edge of something in Lydia’s tone that I don’t altogether like.
I choose to ignore it and open my laptop, navigating to Kevin’s email so she can witness his invite for herself.
After a few seconds, I open up a new message addressed to Will and begin typing a very professional email, confirming the invite from Repeet, along with the day, time, and place of the proposed meeting.
Lydia is still hovering behind me when I hit Send.
“Why wouldn’t I attend the meeting?”
She stands from the corner of my desk and moves in front of me.
Honestly, I don’t know what’s eating at this woman and why she’s never liked me. It feels conceited to think that it’s jealousy, but I’ve never given her any reason to give me such a hard time.
“If I were you, I’d want Colton to come with me. A meeting like that is exciting, but will probably be out of your comfort zone.”
Before I can politely tell her to fuck off, she spins on her heel and marches off, ass swaying in a gray miniskirt that’s entirely too tight for her ass and much too short for the office.
I hope it rips when she bends down to refill the printer with paper.
My laptop pings, and an email drops down from Will.
From: Will Jones
To: Drew Callaghan
Subject: Re: Repeet invite (Stop being so formal, Baby.)
Drew,
Does this mean we get to have our first vacation together? I’ll book the hotel suite and restaurant. How about Japanese? There’s this fucking awesome sushi restaurant in Williamsburg.
Will x
Are you kidding me right now?
From: Drew Callaghan
To: Will Jones
Subject: Re: Repeet invite (Stop being so fucking unprofessional.)
William,
For the benefit of company records and anyone monitoring this email string, I would like to confirm that my client is, in fact, messing around and we are not, in fact, sharing a hotel suite.
Drew
Switching from email to text, I pick up my cell and begin typing the response I really wanted to send.
Me
Could you be any more reckless? My boss sporadically checks my inbox!
Will
Wait. People check your email?
Me
Yes! A little like how you go through medical examinations and tests for doping, my electronic footprint can be monitored at any point.
Will
Shit. Sorry. Maybe delete those messages then. But also … electronic footprint. You are so formal sometimes. It’s hot in a geeky way.
Me
You think I’m geeky?
Will
Nope. I know you’re geeky.
Me
Says the boy who aced his bachelor’s in math.
Will
I got my brains from my mama.
Me
Is there anything you can’t do?
Will
Yeah, actually. I’m struggling to get you in my bed. Can you help a guy out?
Holy hell.
Me
I already told you that it can never happen.
Will
But do you want it to?
Me
Will.
Will
Drew.
Me
Stop fucking with me.
Will
I miss you.
Me
I don’t know what to say anymore.
Will
Do you want something to happen between us?
After I set my phone down on the desk, my eyes rove around the office. Everyone—including Lydia—is busy, either on calls or in other conversations.
I slowly pick my phone back up and reopen the message thread with Will.
Me
I’ve thought about it. But that doesn’t change our reality.
Will
And this is why rules are so fucking stupid. It’s better to take what you want because we only live once.
Me
One night to scratch an itch isn’t worth a lifetime of hassle.
Will
Who said anything about only one night?
Holy fucking hell.
Will
Just say that we can talk while we’re in New York.
Over Japanese food.
Me
Again, I refer you to rule number two.
Will
Technically, this wouldn’t be a work-based meeting. So, rule two doesn’t apply.
Me
You’re incorrigible.
Will
Just say yes and stop denying yourself what you want.
I promise to keep it professional.
Unless you tell me not to …
Me
BTW, you didn’t just get your brains from your mother. You got your stubbornness also.
Will
And you got your mom and dad’s resilience. Damn, woman.
I giggle because he’s absolutely correct.
Me
Okay.
Will
To Japanese food, the hotel suite, or both?
This time, I snort loudly at his latest message.
Me
To a meal and talking. I’ll book my own accommodations.
Will
Where are you staying?
Me
With your parents.
Will
Banging while my parents sleep next door. I like your style. Bad girl.
Me
I’m not staying with your parents. Stupidly, I thought that would be a line even you wouldn’t cross. Actually speechless right now.
Will
Baby, the aim is to make you speechless. But I haven’t even laid a finger on you yet. Let’s take things nice and steady to begin with, yeah?
Me
Will you ever stop?
Will
There are only two circumstances where I’d back off.
Me
Let’s hear them.
When a voice note lands next, I bend down and scrabble through my bag for my AirPods so I can listen in private.
Popping the case, I slide them into my ears and hit Play.
“If you’re listening to this on loudspeaker, I’d advise that you don’t.”
A few seconds later, Will begins speaking again. I haven’t heard his deep voice in over a week, and it surprises me how much I’ve missed it.
“Anyway,” he continues, “you asked me under what circumstances I’d back off from you.
Number one: if you asked me to. As irresistible as I am, I’m not into forcing anyone to want me.
” He breathes out a long exhale. “And second …” He pauses, and, shit, what the hell is he going to say next?
“Second … I’d back off if you ordered me cheesecake without my prior consent again. ”
I’m out of my chair and heading for the restrooms in record time, hitting the Record button as soon as the door closes behind me.
“I think I might actually hate you.” Standing in front of one of the mirrors, I place a hand in the center of my chest and feel the fast thump of my heart. “I genuinely wondered what you were going to say next. I think it’s best if I lead all conversations when we meet with Repeet.”
It’s all of ten seconds after I sent the voice note that a kissing-face emoji and a slice of cake—which I assume is supposed to be cheesecake—pops up, followed by a final message from the boy who drives me mad every hour, yet I’m still left wondering when I’ll next hear from him.
Will
You can talk all you want in that meeting, so long as I get you all to myself afterward.