Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Iwake up in heaven. At least, that’s what it feels like.
I am enveloped in silky-smooth sheets, buried under the fluffiest comforter known to man, and my head is perfectly supported by a two-hundred-dollar pillow.
I let out a pleased sigh.
“Good morning,” says a familiar voice.
I sit up and find Andrew in the closet doorway, putting on a tie. He watches in amusement as I run a hand through my hair and try to fix my smudged makeup.
I probably look like Alice Cooper.
When I’m done, I look to my right and see that the other side of the bed looks completely untouched.
“I slept on the couch,” he says, following my gaze. “You pretty much just passed out after we were done. Seemed like you needed it, so I didn’t wake you.”
My pants are on the floor next to the bed. I reach for them and fish my phone out of a pocket. As I do, I realize I’m still completely bare from the waist down. I quickly pull the comforter up a few extra inches.
Andrew leaves the room as I wake my phone. Missed calls and messages pour in, all from Josh.
I press call.
“Carly?” Josh sounds out of breath, as if he ran to the phone.
“Hi, sorry for not picking up earlier.”
I start looking for my discarded underwear, without luck. Did he just throw them over his shoulder or something? Where are they?
“Are you still at Bennett’s place?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” he asks, his voice dripping with accusation.
It makes me pause. “I fell asleep,” I say carefully. “I was pretty out of it after everything.”
“You do not need to tell me the fucking details.”
What the hell?
“I had a fever, Josh. That’s what I meant.”
Andrew chooses that exact moment to walk into the room. “Made you coffee. It’s light brown and disgusting, just how you like it.”
He hands me a steaming cup, and I can’t help but smile.
“Well, sounds like you have a cup of coffee to get to. Don’t let me keep you,” Josh says, then hangs up the phone.
“Trouble in paradise?” Andrew sits on the edge of the bed.
“He’s not happy,” I say, sipping my coffee, which is absolutely delicious.
Andrew shrugs. “Can’t really blame the guy. I wouldn’t be too happy either if the girl I was seeing had slept in another man’s bed. Especially not if I knew he’d given her a life-altering orgasm the night before.”
I scoff. “You sure think highly of yourself.”
“Saved your life, didn’t it?”
I take another sip. Ugh, it’s literally perfect. It’s almost annoying.
“Where are my underwear?”
“By your feet.” He stands and goes to the door. “Put them on and finish your coffee. I’ll drive you home once you’re done.”
An hour later, I’m freshly showered and walking into the lobby of the BenCo building. As I step into the elevator, Tim from IT slips in behind me. We say hello, and I brace for an awkward minute of silence before he gets off at his floor. But apparently, I’m not that lucky.
“Are you just coming in now?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’ve never seen you come in this late before.” He gives me a quick once-over. “Didn’t think Bennett allowed that.”
I scratch my arm. “Dentist appointment,” I lie.
He shrugs, and we lapse into the awkward silence I was promised.
When the elevator reaches the top floor, I step out and head for my desk. There’s a lot to do, since we’re leaving on a business trip in a few days, so I throw myself into work and try very hard not to think about anything that happened last night.
I’m in the middle of summarizing a report when the door to Andrew’s office opens.
“Miss Michaels,” he says.
“Mr. Bennett.”
He crosses his arms. “Mr. Stanton was here earlier. Looking for you, I believe.”
“That can’t have been pleasant,” I say, making a face.
Andrew fights a smile. He is losing. Badly. “He did not seem particularly happy to see me, no.”
I groan and put my head in my hands. This whole situation just sucks. I don’t know what to do with Josh. I like him, and I was looking forward to seeing where things might go, but then he started moving too fast. Add the virus and Andrew to the mix, and the whole thing just feels exhausting.
Andrew watches me for a moment. “This is going to be a distraction, isn’t it?”
I lift my head. “Sorry?”
“Stanton,” he says. “Deal with him.” He glances toward his desk. “After everything for my next meeting is ready.”
I blink at him. “You’re telling me to go talk to Josh?”
“I’m telling you to remove a distraction before it affects your work.” He pauses. “And to bring me something from the cafeteria on your way back.”
There he is.
I send him the documents he needs, then head down to the IT department.
Josh’s office is the size of a shoebox and filled to the brim with stuff. Cables, wires, various pieces of tech, and Star Wars memorabilia line the walls. Boxes filled with who-knows-what cover most of the floor. I knock twice on the door frame before squeezing inside.
“Hi,” I say, sitting down in the visitor’s chair, which is literally just a chair from the cafeteria.
“Hi.” He looks up from his screen. “I went looking for you earlier.”
“Yeah. Andrew told me.”
His expression changes. “Oh, it’s Andrew now?”
I give him a look. “Josh.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I know I’m not handling this well. It’s just a lot, okay? I can’t get the mental images out of my head, and it’s fucking bothering me.”
I stare at him.
“Josh,” I say carefully, “what exactly are you upset about?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you upset because you were scared something would happen to me? Or are you upset because of Andrew?”
His eyes drop to the table.
A strange disappointment settles in my chest. Last night, I could barely stand. I told him I might die if I didn’t leave. But somehow, that doesn’t seem to be the part he’s stuck on.
“Right,” I say, standing.
He reaches out and catches my arm. “Wait. Please.” His face softens immediately. “Of course I’m worried about you. I’m sorry.”
I look down at his hand. After a second, he lets go.
“I think we both need some time to process this,” I say.
His shoulders tense. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m leaving for New York in a few days.” I force a small smile. “And it means I’ll talk to you after the trip.”
When I come home from work that day, Annie is holding a drink.
It’s bubbly, freakishly blue, and has a pink umbrella sticking out of it.
“We’re going out,” she states, shoving it toward me.
I take a sip from the striped straw and grimace. It’s sickly sweet, but I can also feel something burning at the back of my throat. Like sugary paint thinner.
“Oh my god, what is that?” I say, trying to give it back. “It’s vile.”
She refuses to take it.
“It’s my late grandma’s recipe,” she says, completely serious. “She brought it with her on the Mayflower. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”
“Your grandma is four hundred years old?”
“I said late grandma, didn’t I?” She reaches for her own glass and takes a stoic sip. One of her eyes twitches. “And yes, she lived long. She took a brisk walk every morning and always ate her vegetables.”
A few hours later, I’m sweating in a too-tight dress Annie told me made my boobs look “magical,” swaying my hips on a cramped dance floor.
All thoughts have basically been wiped from my mind.
The only things that exist are the strobing lights overhead, the sticky floor under my shoes, and the rhythmic music vibrating in the marrow of my bones.
“Let’s get shots,” Annie yells over the music.
I nod a very normal amount.
That is such a good idea.
She grabs my hand, and we zigzag through a sea of bodies until we reach the bar. Annie slaps a hand down on the counter and says something to the bartender that I don’t hear. A minute later, a shot glass appears in front of me.
“Cheers!” Annie says, throwing her head back.
I do the same. The liquid burns all the way down my throat, and I give a full-body shiver as I place the glass back on the bar.
She turns to me and points a wobbly finger in the general direction of my face. “You should break up with Josh.”
The words land right in the soft, guilty place I’ve been trying very hard to drown in liquor and bad music.
“Is that why you wanted t—to go out?” I ask, in a clear and articulate voice.
She shrugs. “I just thought you needed to loosen up for this conversh—” She frowns. “Conversation.”
I pull my head back, affronted. “Why?”
“Because I was so wrong, babe.”
“About Josh?”
She shakes her head. “Iron Giant.” Then she grabs my face with both hands and looks me in the eye. Kind of. “You have a big, fat mega-crush on the Curiosity rover.”
I purse my lips.
She continues.
“And it’s not fair to Josh, what you’re doing right now. You need to just—” She releases my face and makes a scissor motion with her fingers.
“I need to scissor him? He’s a boy.” I pause. “Man. He’s a man. Man-boy.”
She shakes her head and nearly loses her balance. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Did you mean cut him? Like with a knife?”
“Just break it off with him, you dumb bitch,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Well, that might happen anyway.” I sigh. “He got mad about the virus thing. And not for the right reasons. He’s just jealous of Andrew.”
Annie gives two thumbs down and boos.
“But I don’t know. I told him I needed time to think. He’s still a nice guy.” I lean against the bar and almost die because of a slight miscalculation involving my elbow. I try again, more successfully this time. “And he likes me. I like him. We like each other.”
She makes a face.
“No.” I point at her. “Don’t make that face.”
Annie puts her hand on my shoulder. She presses down hard, and it takes me a second to realize she’s using me for balance. “I’m not saying you don’t like him. But, like, you don’t like him enough, you know?”
The words hit harder than they should.
Maybe because I’m drunk.
Maybe because she’s right.
“I’m trying,” I say.
“See, that’s the problem, Car.” She raises her hands dramatically, making herself sway backward. “You shouldn’t have to try to want someone. It’s fucked up.”
She has a point.
“I need air,” I say.
Annie nods and grabs my hand again. We push our way through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk. The cold night air hits my sweaty skin, and I suck in a breath. My ears ring from the sudden drop in volume.
We stand there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, watching people stumble in and out of cars. I pull my phone out of my tiny purse, mostly because I need something to do with my hands.
There are no messages from Josh, which is to be expected. There is one from Mom, a picture of a mug she found at the thrift store with a cat on it. There are three emails from work that I absolutely refuse to open on principle.
And then there is Andrew.
Not a new message. Just his name in my recent texts.
The last message is from earlier today:
Mr. Bennett
Send the updated New York deck
It’s in your inbox
Good
Annie takes an obvious peek at my screen. “Are you texting RoboCop?”
“No.”
“You’re looking at his name.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s objectively worse.”
I start typing, then hit send.
You’re a problem
Annie’s eyes widen as she grabs for the phone. “Give me that.”
“No,” I say, holding it protectively against my chest.
It buzzes.
Are you drunk?
Not drumk
Annie cackles. “You misspelled drunk.”
I squint at my screen.
Did I?
“And you’re going to regret this tomorrow.”
Nah.
Go home, Miss Michaels
Bossy
Annie makes a strangled sound. “Oh my god.” She tries to pry the phone out of my hands. “Let go.”
It buzzes again, and we both freeze.
Yes
My brain completely short-circuits.
Annie sees her chance and snatches the phone from my hand. “Okay. No more. You’re done.” She shoves my phone into her purse and takes my hand. “We’re getting fries, and then we’re going home.”
Please ignore the texts sent last night
Which texts?
The ones sent at 1 a.m.
Oh, wait, I get it now
Thanks
:)