Everly
For the middleof the week, it feels an awful lot like a Friday. I look up from my desk and notice the quiet of the office, slipping my heels back on. It’s a good time to walk out the stiffness from sitting for hours and make a coffee. I look down toward the pit, an open space where the marketing team sits, and it’s empty. They hightailed it out of here around three o’clock, something about the film festival promos, which I’m sure will prove to be a smart use of their attention.
Michael is with my father on some sort of horse tranquility ride they’ve been planning for weeks. Henry’s office is empty, and only a few folks from the finance team are still trucking away.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
G:Is it pineapple for better-tasting jizz, or cranberry juice? I always get the jizz and the UTI mixed up.
G:I need a quick answer here, Ev.
Everly:Pineapple for Penis.
G:Got it. Thanks, love u.
Everly:Google also works for quick answers. Just sayin’.
G:Yes, but then Google doesn’t ask me later what that was all about. So until Siri or Alexa or Google can make me feel good about my life choices the way you can, I will ask you the ridiculous things first.
She might be an acquired taste for some, but Giselle is the kind of friend I always hoped I’d find. How does a person make you love them even more after they ask about penises and urinary tract infections?
“Man or meme?” I look up and find Jack leaning against the door frame that leads to the creative studio. Instantly, I smile at him and feel my face flush.
“You’re smiling at your phone in the middle of the hallway,” he says with a smile mirroring mine.
I hold up my phone. “Giselle.”
“Ah, yes. The passionate tattoo artist. She’s funny. And a schmoozer. I left our conversation wanting another tattoo.”
I shift, dropping my phone into my back pocket. “She is pretty wonderful. If you get on her good side and treat her people right, you’ll have her in your corner for life. But, don’t piss her off. It’s never a good thing for whatever poor sucker is on the other end of her wrath.”
“I guess your brother didn’t get that memo.”
“Missed it big time. Henry is the eternal pessimist, and it grinds at G. He’s had to make some big life changes over the past decade and it’s made him cranky. Everyone except G gives him a pass to be an asshole.” I lift a shoulder. “I always thought maybe they’d get over the bickering and move on, but now we all just run defense when it's needed and hope for the least amount of fallout.”
I brush past him and that current of electricity that exists between the two of us revs up, and I feel it roll right through me. “What are you still doing here? I thought you would be with Law and his team down at the film fest. Opening activities means most of the town is there celebrating and on the hunt for celebrity sightings.”
He turns and smiles, but instead of answering right away, Jack walks into the room as if he owns it, and to be fair, this has been his workspace for the majority of his time here so far. I’m actually not sure why I’m in here right now, but I’m not quite ready to move away. Jumping up onto a box, he reaches up to a light surrounded by a black umbrella. As he does, I catch sight of his skin that peeks out as his shirt rides up in the front. I lick my lips and realize that I’ve never looked at a man’s lower abs with such need.
I know I’m objectifying him, but at this moment, I could care less, because I’m fairly positive the lines that cut in from his hips and dip into his pants are just pointing to what I’m practically panting for right now.Snap out of it, Everly!
He catches me checking him out, and instead of looking away, I choose not to care. Then he jumps down from the box and says,“I have more to get done here before I can call it a night. And celebrities aren’t all that impressive.”
I move my attention to the rest of the room and take a breath, hoping it’ll get my head out of the crotch-region of Jack’s body. Looking at him any longer isn’t a smart idea. “What are you guys working through right now? Law keeps me updated, but I’ve been a bit nuts this week and haven’t talked to him yet.”
“We did a lot of flat lays on the clothing line, but I’m not loving them. I want to show these off on bodies, and I’m trying to figure out how I can do that best. These aren’t a part of the sports side of things where the equipment is the focus, but I wanted to keep the flow of people versus just products. Making it feel more like a glimpse into Riggs and not just a catalog.”
I move toward the flat lays of my loungewear samples. Some of my favorites are being displayed. Jack did an incredible job arranging the styles. “These look good. I love this one the most. It’s my favorite.”
Jack tilts his head, and I catch him looking me up and down, studying me. I move my attention back down to the table and run my fingers along the garments, feeling the materials I’ve spent so much time on.
Click-pop. Click-pop.The light he was just fiddling with goes off twice, and I look up quickly. “Did you just take my picture?”
He smiles. That’s his answer. This fucking guy.
“Those three pieces. The one you’re holding, the shorts and those undergarments.”
I look down at what he’s tilted his head toward. “They’re lounge-bras. That’s, that’s what we’re calling them.”