Chapter 6
six
I struggle to make it through two morning appointments—a networking event at a riverside restaurant, and a final brainstorming session with Linden in preparation for the Lakeman meeting on Monday morning.
When I step into the lobby to leave work Friday, there’s a group of young employees milling around and chatting. I pick up the pace to pass by them, but Aggie spots me and calls my name. Weighed down by guilt, I slump and turn to her voice.
In rapid, small strides, she bounces to my side. Her gleaming smile and jittery hands signal her excitement. Like always, my immediate reaction is to shrink away, but I fight my instincts. I need to watch and learn, to study what real happiness looks like.
“I found him,” she says, clasping her hands at her chest.
“Who?” I glance around.
“My experimental guy.” She locks her hands behind her back and swings her hips, appearing proud.
My eyes widen, remembering her new relationship goals. I peer at the group, searching to find who made the cut.
Standing out with his height, a dusting of light freckles, and dull ginger hair, there’s one person I can guess.
He quietly lumbers, wearing an ironic T-shirt with his hands tucked in his jeans pockets.
He’s cute when he smiles, and when he laughs, smile lines radiate from the outer corners of his eyes.
“Charlie?” My voice tightens with worry. “Won’t it be weird? You work together.”
“You’re forgetting the point is to have fun. No attachments.”
I bite my tongue, feeling sorry for him. The poor guy has no clue what’s about to happen.
“You should come out,” she says. “We’re doing happy hour at Cabana Joe’s on the river. They’ve got a reggae band and five-dollar pina coladas.”
“Tempting?” I say, but it comes out like a question.
“Don’t you want to see me in action?” Playful, she claws the air.
“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, but I’m heading home. It’s been a long week, and I need to train. The marathon . . .” My words trail off when she shoots me a doubtful look. This is the excuse I use to dodge every group invitation, and she knows it.
“So you’ve zeroed in on your one-night stand too?”
“What? No.” I blanch, but my limbs instantly heat.
She dances away with a conspiratorial smile. “Aww, you’re going to break Evan Wade’s poor little hottie heart.”
Her words catch the attention of passing coworkers. Questioning gazes flit in my direction. Anyone who works here would know he’s Linden’s brother.
I want to press a finger to my lips to shush her, but censoring Aggie would cause her to talk louder—if that’s humanly possible.
“Don’t turn him into a vampire,” she calls out when she nears the others again, and everyone turns to me.
I stiffen at their interest. Heat creeps from my arms, spirals over my shoulders, and seeps into my dismayed face when someone asks her who the lucky him is. I may as well be standing in the blinding heat of a spotlight . . . onstage . . . and naked.
Before our coworkers can drag me into the conversation and ask more questions, I dart for the elevator. I don’t relax until I’m blocks away and safely on my way home.
The problem is Aggie has me contemplating my nonexistent sex life again, and it soon occurs to me I never checked Evan’s text from last weekend. At first, I avoided it on purpose, but then I forgot—or forced myself to forget.
As I stroll down the sidewalk, I remove my cell and swipe to the main screen, tap the texting icon, and scroll through a week of messages.
Lou’s updated me on his trip to London. He begins every text with the word ’ello and ends with cheers. He hates warm beer but loves the nightclubs.
Aggie’s text stream includes several snapshots of her modeling possible boring outfits for work.
Then there’s a text from my mom. I purse my lips and scroll past without reading it, like all her messages before. I walk a little faster, needing to escape her.
But there’s one text I do want to read. My thumb hovers over his name as I stare at it, my stomach churning. I click on and off the text several times, fighting with myself.
A horn blares. Looking up, I find myself in a crosswalk with oncoming traffic speeding in my direction. My insides freeze before I run for the far curb, and an accelerating taxi narrowly misses me.
With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I veer off from the pedestrian stream and lean against a brick wall to calm my pounding heart. I walked into an intersection without even realizing, almost killed myself over a dumb text. My knuckles turn white as I clench the phone.
Needing to be done with this, I give in and open his text.
As soon as I see his name, my heart switches from pounding hard and fast from my near-death experience to an excited, fluttery high. That is, until I read his message.
Evan
Or are you too prissy to sleep on my couch? ;)