“I own an advertising company.”
She nearly spits out her drink. “Own? As in your the boss, applesauce?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s freaking amazing!” Her hand rests on my bicep. I flex it in response. “So you’re like… doing okay?” Her head weaves in a figure-eight.
“You mean am I doing okay emotionally? Physically? Financially?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Wow! Good for you, Zaid.” Her fingers move to my shoulder, she gives me a friendly shake. “All that studying paid off!”
“Studying?”
“Yeah, you were like a recluse in college. I swear you never left the house.” The bubbles have exaggerated her movements, making her more animated, her cheeks flushed. I know I’m supposed to nod in agreement, but I’m frozen. How do you tell the woman you’ve been in love with for years that the reason you stayed home in college was because you knew she was at your house? That you’d rather stay in your room and study hoping to catcha glimpse of her every time you took a snack break? The answer: you don’t.
I finally nod at her statement. “I suppose it did.”
“And here I am shit out of luck, no job, four stupid roommates—”
“You don’t have a job?”
She lifts her glass to her lips and shakes her head. “Why do you think I’m dressed like this? I’ve been pounding the pavement all day going to interviews.”
“Anything arise?” I twist in my seat, thinking of the swelling erection in my pants that’s been nagging at me the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Hopefully, she hasn’t noticed.
Tori finishes her drink and sets it down on the table. “Unfortunately, no. Zip. Zilch. Zero.” She presses her finger against her thumb, lifts it to her eye, and peers through the space. “And honestly, Zaid.” God I love when she says my name. “I’m glad you’re picking up the tab, big spender. I’m about cashed out and I still need to make…” Tori hiccups mid-sentence. “Rent this month.”
Her red lacquered fingertips fly to her mouth, suppressing an embarrassed giggle. I can’t let my Tori worry about money, especially when I have so much of it. But I know this woman, and she’s not the kind of person who would accept a blatant handout.
“I’ll do you one better.” I say, thinking none of it through. “I’ll offer you a job at my office until you find something more permanent.” Her eyes widen, puffy lips parting into a perfect o-shape. I can imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around my —
“Are you serious?”
“Our receptionist quit last month. We’ve been using a temp, but I could use you instead.”
“Oh Zaid, I don’t know.” A look of worry crosses her face, and I’d die to know what’s preventing her from jumping at this opportunity.
“Just try it out. Give it one week, and you can come and go for interviews.” I nudge her shoulder so I can bring myself in contact with her again. Tori takes a deep breath and I leave my shoulder pressed against hers. The curve of her neck begs for a nibble.
After a long silence, she turns to me. Her face, close enough to lean into. I could end it all right here, kissing her long and hard.
But what if she still sees me as her best friend’s geeky older brother?
“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll take you up on your offer.” She holds out her hand, and the minute I slip mine into hers, fully engulfing it, I stiffen in my pants again. “But you’re still paying for dinner.”
A hearty laugh escapes my mouth. “In that case, I think we should order more food.” Tori’s eyes light up, and that megawatt smile knocks me off my feet.
I hold up my hand, and the waitress saunters over. Having the woman of my dreams work for me five days a week, while I try to control myself from throwing her up against the boardroom table and having my naughty little way with her is a dangerous situation. But I can’t take it back now.
I hope I know what I’m getting myself into.
3
Tori