21. Connor
Kennedi shakes her head. “Jess, you definitely traded up, I’m glad you decided to go for it. Lightyears ahead of Alex. In, like, every way possible. This one,” she points at me, “is such a catch. You deserve a catch.”
Everybody nods their heads in agreement. And despite my initial objection to being referred to as “this one,” seeing the look on Jess’ face makes it all worth it. It’s like someone told her she won the lottery. And I’m not gonna lie, the fact that dating me—even fake dating me—is the equivalent to winning the lottery? It’s kind of an ego boost.
Pink creeps across her cheeks. “Well, I guess we’re both doing pretty well tonight.” Jess looks up at me with nothing but pure adoration in her gaze, and I lose myself in it for a moment.
*Ding, ding, ding*
We’re interrupted by the sound of silverware on glass and Anderson stands up. “All right, everyone, I have one more game for us tonight before sending you home.”
“YEAH!” That’s from Ollie, much to Sammie’s obvious dismay.
“I like the enthusiasm, sir, very nice,” Anderson continues. “So, I’ve composed a little bit of a trivia competition for us this evening! But instead of cash, the winner is going to go home with…drumroll please…”
Everyone drums on the nearest surface they can find, so I reluctantly join in on the table to my left. This is the strangest company party I’ve ever been to.
“Two full additional vacation days!”
At that, the room erupts into applause. Jess throws both her arms up in the air like she scored a touchdown and hollers, “Wooohooo!” She turns to me. “This is it, Price. Are you ready? Do you have your game face on?”
“I always have my game face on.”
“I’m serious. Two days. Two days. Plus,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “I really want to beat Sammie’s date because that guy is a serious douche canoe.”
“Jess, every guy that age is a douche canoe, you can’t hold it against him.”
“No,” she insists. “He’s the worst. Even Sammie thinks he’s awful but he’s like a friend of her cousin’s or something, so she got cornered into bringing him. We’re taking him down.”
“Taking him down?”
She nods, her voice the embodiment of seriousness. “To Chinatown, baby.”
“Wow. Um, so while I really enjoy this ferocity from you, I gotta tell you it might be wise to dial it back a little. Seriously, he’s just a kid.”
“Hey, losers,” Ollie walks up between us and puts his arms around our shoulders, like he’s been our friend for years. “You guys are old enough for CDs, right? Cuz you’re gonna see deez nuts in ya mouth when I mop the floor with you shitheads!” He follows that up with a high-pitched cackle and walks away, leaving us to stare after him in silence.
Jess looks at me with an unspoken, See??
I nod in agreement. “Let’s bury him.”
Cayenne hands out white boards and dry erase markers to each couple while Jess shakes off the gold shawl that was resting on her shoulders and starts cracking her neck like she’s stepping into the ring. A look around the room sees the others in a similar stance; Kennedi shadow boxing with Paul, Matt rubbing Ben’s shoulders, and Kayla saying something under her breath to Jim…I don’t know what, but the look on her face is a little terrifying. I understand the thrill of competition as much as anyone, but I don’t get it. Who would want time off over cold, hard cash?
Thirty minutes later, I’m no closer to getting an answer to that question, but let me tell you, these people are animals for that vacation time. My date included. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a competitive side in Jess before, but it is a huge turn-on. Eliminations have been made, and it’s down to the two of us versus Sammie and Ollie. We’ve written our answers to the last question and are waiting for the reveal.
Anderson’s at the front of the room talking like a game show host. “The answer is…fifteen!”
“Read ‘em and weep!” Ollie calls back, flipping his white board over to reveal he’d written the number fifteen while also flipping the bird in our general direction.
“Point goes to Sammie and Ollie!” Anderson calls.
“Bullshit!” Jess and I yell simultaneously.
Jess stands up in a frenzy. “Anderson, it’s sixteen! There are sixteen balls in play for Eight Ball!”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Ollie sneers. “Give my woman the vacation daaaaayz!”
Sammie hides her head in her hand. “Can you not? I work here. And I am not your woman.”
“No way,” Jess starts furiously typing on her phone. “Look!” She rushes to the front where Anderson is standing and shoves the screen two inches from his corneas (she might have had a little too much to drink). “The solids and stripes are numbered one through fifteen, but the cue ball makes sixteen. The answer is sixteen.”
Anderson considers this, but Ollie interrupts. “The cue ball doesn’t count!”
Jess whips around and is now toe to toe with him. “What do you mean the cue ball doesn’t count? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”
“You can’t sink the cue ball, you’re trying to sink the other fifteen balls to win the game.”
“The question was how many balls are on the pool table, not how many balls have pretty numbers on them!”
“Oh, you wanna talk about?—”
“Do not say anything about your balls!”
With pure amusement on his face, Anderson looks over at me. I shrug my shoulders. “She’s right, the question expressly asked how many balls are on the table and the cue ball makes sixteen,” I say.
He nods in agreement, but looks almost disappointed that Jess and Ollie have stopped arguing and are now looking at him for the final ruling.
Anderson makes a big show of sighing and shaking his head. “Connor and Jess bring up a valid point. The question was worded in a way that means yes, sixteen is the answer. I’m sorry, Sammie, but Jess—you are the winner of two extra vacation days next year!”
Ollie opens his mouth to protest when Sammie stands up. “Totally understood. Thank you, Anderson, for a lovely evening, nice to meet you, Cayenne, see everyone on Monday, congratulations, Jess! Nice job, Hot Connor!” And with that, she takes Ollie’s pinkie finger in her hand and bends it back until he yelps, rushing him out of the room.
Everyone applauds, I assume both for Ollie leaving and for Jess’ victory. Cayenne gently positions a plastic tiara on Jess’ head and Anderson hands her a large, fake, poster board check that reads “TWO VACATION DAYS!” and has a picture of a sunshine wearing sunglasses on it.
She looks like sunshine herself as she stands there in front of all of us. “Oh man, thank you so much, everyone. I’d like to start by thanking my brother, Scott, for teaching me how to play pool. To Anderson for this incredibly gracious gift. To my friend, Anna, who taught me it’s never too early to drink and play bar trivia. And to my boyfriend, the incredible Hot Connor Price, who has been absolute perfection this whole night.”
She smiles at me and my heartbeat kicks up a notch or twelve.
Until the cat calling from her coworkers starts. “Wooo! Go, Hot Connor!”
“While it’s true, I could have won this competition on my own,” Jess continues, “I’m very glad I didn’t have to. Thank you so much for being here with me tonight.”
The room erupts into applause again as she steps away from Anderson and over to me with the giant check. She sets it down by our table and wraps me in a massive hug. “Thank you,” she whispers again in my ear.
“There’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be,” I answer. And it’s the truth.
“Congratulations again, Jess,” Ben hugs her as we’re putting our coats on and getting ready to leave. “You deserve it.”
“Jessica!” Kennedi pushes through and puts her hands on Jess’ shoulders. “I’ve never been so happy to see someone else win something. You crushed that little bastard’s soul, and it was a thing of beauty!”
Jess just laughs. “It was a genuine pleasure, trust me.”
“And you,” she turns and points to me. “You are magnificent! But you take care of this woman, do you understand? She is one of the good ones.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “She’s definitely something special.”
“You don’t have plans for New Year’s, do you?” Kennedi switches gears. Before Jess or I can answer, she keeps going. “You do now! You just have to come with us, there’s a bar crawl downtown, and it’s an absolute blast. I mean, I’m trying to get Paul to go with me to the Stanley for a ghost tour, but he’s a chickenshit, so this is the next best thing.”
“Love you too, dear,” Paul says.
“Yep. So you’re coming right? You’ll both come with us? There’s a whole big group going.”
I start to politely decline—something I have perfected to a science, if I do say so myself, “Well?—”
“We’d love to!” Jess cuts in.
“We would?” I ask at the same time Kennedi says, “Fabulous! We’ll work out all the details later! Come on, Paul!”
Paul silently follows her out, and I turn to Jess with an eyebrow raised. “What’s this now?” I ask.
Jess looks at me sheepishly. “I’m so sorry, I got carried away!” She’s still grinning, though, as she grabs the giant check and walks with it through the entire restaurant to the front, where our Uber is waiting. Thankfully, this time the car is an Explorer, so there’s a little more room for us and Jess’ winnings.
Once we’re buckled in and moving, I turn to her expectantly, waiting for a better explanation on why we are now going to a bar crawl on New Year’s Eve. Instead, she opts for the avoidance tactic.
“So, you have any big plans for tomorrow?” she asks.
I guess we’re rolling with small talk now. “Nothing much. Playing tennis with Chris in the morning.”
“Oh yeah, he mentioned that.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you guys compare calendars or something?”
She shrugs. “Not usually. But we text a little more often during the holidays. I think he’s just trying to stay busy, so he doesn’t feel so lonely this time of year.”
That catches me off guard. “You think he’s lonely?”
“Of course he’s lonely. November and December are like a microphone for loneliness. I love being single and even I feel it.” Then she turns to me. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“I guess I never really thought about it. I’ve always been too busy to be lonely.”
“That might be the loneliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The statement is disarming, and I’m not really sure how to process it.
I don’t know if it’s a gesture of apology or understanding or solidarity, but she grabs my hand and smiles at me before turning her head to look back out the window.
And so we sit in silence the rest of the drive back to her house, hand in hand, like we’re an actual couple. But it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable or fake. It just feels…nice. Which I guess is a little foreign in itself.
When the car pulls up to her place, I help her wrestle the giant tagboard check out from the back seat, but she grabs it back from me quickly once we’re safely on the sidewalk. She drops her house keys twice, fumbling with them and the check she refuses to let me hold. But finally she gets the keys in the lock and is victorious in opening the door. She waltzes immediately in and kicks off her shoes, letting them fall wherever they land and throwing the shawl onto the floor just as recklessly. It takes everything in my soul not to pick them up and put them away.
The check, however, she gingerly places on the couch before stepping back to stare at it with adoration.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks me.
I put my hands in my pockets and stand next to her. “I mean, a real check for money would be prettier, but this was a good win. I’m glad you’re happy with it.”
“Money is pretty sweet,” she nods. “But time is so much better.”
“You know you’re very sage when you’ve been drinking.”
“I know, right?”
“So, about that New Year’s invitation…”
Her face falls, and she turns to me. “Oh my god, I’m the worst! I’m so sorry!”
“Hey now, you’re definitely not the worst.”
“No, I totally am. I just got so caught up in the attention, you know? It sucks, but the truth is, sometimes it’s nice to have a really good looking, smart, successful man on your arm. Who knew?”
“Don’t forget charming,” I add.
“Of course, that, too. And humble!”
We stare at each other smirking for a few seconds and I don’t miss the brief glance she sends to my mouth before she breaks the spell. “But listen, you don’t have to go through with it. Really. I’ll talk to Kennedi on Monday and come up with a reason it won’t work. I’ve put you through enough.”
Now I’m trying not to stare at her mouth. I channel some boardroom energy to get through it. “Wow, you are the worst negotiator I’ve ever faced.”
“What now?”
“You completely buckled! The way you went after Ollie tonight, I was hoping for a little more of a challenge.”
Her face is mired in confusion. “Are you saying you want to go to the New Year’s Eve party?”
“See now if I tell you that, it would make me the worst negotiator.”
Jess continues to stare at me blankly. “I’ve had too much alcohol to really understand what’s happening right now.”
“You don’t really want to go back to work on Monday and lie to poor Kennedi to you?” I slowly walk towards her.
“I mean…I have lied an awful lot lately…”
“Right. And you said yourself it was nice having a handsome, charming, funny, successful?—”
“Meek, self-effacing…”
“Generous, intelligent man on your arm.”
I’m standing right in front of her now, close enough to touch.
“Generous, huh?” she’s breathless, her lips barely parted.
I nod. “See, I’ve got every reason to be confident, because I have something to offer you. But what is it you can offer me?”
“I’m starting to feel a little like a prostitute, is that the vibe you’re going for here?”
I laugh and touch my forehead to hers. “Definitely not.” I grab her hands in mine and she looks up at me. “Why don’t we finish this negotiation in the next day or two? After I’ve come up with some good ideas on a gift you can buy me.”
“Oh, you need to consult with your Amazon wish list, is that it?”
“Hey, you may like your time, but I’m all about the Benjamins.”
Jess throws her head back and laughs, and I soak up being the reason for it. “Fair enough,” she says and squeezes my hands. “Negotiations paused.”
“Okay, that’s good. Now, do you need anything before I head home? A glass of water? Help reorganizing your linen closet?”
“Good night, Connor,” she snickers and starts pushing me towards the door.
“All right, all right, I’m leaving.”
“Are you sure you’re good to drive home?”
“Yeah, I just had a couple of beers early before the meal, so I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Once fully outside in the bitter cold, I hold up my hand in a wave and turn to walk towards my car.
“Hey, Connor?”
I look over my shoulder to see a barefoot, coatless Jess jogging towards me. “Jess, it’s freezing out he?—”
She throws her arms around me and holds on until I return the embrace. I may or may not have breathed in to smell the floral scent of her hair like the creeper I tried not to be earlier in the Uber.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “I really had the most incredible time tonight.”
Before I can respond, she slides her hands up to the back of my neck and presses her lips to my cheek. Then, in another random act of Jess, she runs back into her house and shuts the door. Two seconds later, she pulls back the curtain on her front window and waves at me. I wave back, still stunned but stupidly grinning.