Totally. I hope you like the three dozen pink carnations I ordered. I also wrote love notes all over your windshield.
I smile. And *this* is why you don’t have a girlfriend.
Why would I need a girlfriend when I’m getting regular sex from my hussy roommate?
“What are you looking so happy about?” I jump as I see Lori and Eryn walking toward me.
Lori slows her walk and makes a slight face toward Eryn.
Eryn, in all her inappropriateness, tries to look at my phone, and I lock it before she can see the screen. The last thing I need is for the office snot to learn about Ben and me.
Or for Lori to learn.
“Ooh, I know that look,” Eryn says in an annoying singsong voice. “Parker’s texting her boyfriend.”
“Actually, Lance dumped me,” I say with a wide smile. “Thanks for bringing it up, though.”
She has the decency to look slightly embarrassed by her gaffe, but I don’t like her enough to reassure her that I haven’t really thought about Lance in days.
Eryn slinks into the conference room, but Lori and I don’t immediately follow. It’s our weekly team meeting, and our boss is always late.
I take a sip of my Diet Coke and Lori moves closer. “Okay, don’t make me ask again.”
I frown in confusion. “About what?”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you call him?”
Him …Him…Him who…?
Oh. Him.
“Not yet,” I say, pretending to be fascinated with my pop can.
Lori has asked me every day this week whether I’ve called the guy from the karaoke bar, and I’m running out of excuses.
There’s no good way to tell her that the only reason I’d call that guy was if I was still pursuing my hookup agenda.
And there’s also not a good way to tell her that the only reason I even talked to that guy in the first place was because she and Ben were looking all twosome-ish up there onstage, and I’d felt…not jealous, precisely.
But maybe a little thrown off by not being the one up there onstage with Ben.
Still, the guy at the bar—Brandon—had really seemed like a decent kind of guy. Funny, normal…
And yet, I have absolutely zero interest in calling him.
I’m saved from having to think up yet another excuse when we spot our boss heading toward us, cellphone tucked under her chin, even as her finger furiously swipes across the iPad that she’s never without.
The meeting runs long.
So does the meeting after that, and the one after that, and then I get pulled into an impromptu review session with some designers who can’t agree on a color scheme.
By the time I get back to my desk, Lori’s left a note that she’s gone for the day and to Call The Guy TONIGHT.
Sigh.
I race through my emails, none of which were as urgent as the senders seemed to think, but my reporting takes longer than I expect because I get an error on every other screen.
By the time I get to the car Ben’s leaning against my Prius, messenger bag across his shoulder, totally focused on his cellphone.