Page 10 of P.S. I Dare You

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Asshole.

The splash marks barely lift from the fabric, and in fact, I might even be making it worse, which means I’m going to have to run home and change on my first day at WellesTech.

Asshole!

He ran into me. How dare he tell me to watch where I’m going?

I know New Yorkers are a tough crowd, but this goes beyond.

That man wasn’t tough.

He was a jerk.

Big difference.

I can only hope and pray I won’t be working with that prick at any point in my tenure here—though I’m not sure if he even works here. He was in jeans and Chucks, hardly appropriate for a workplace like this.

The ladies’ room door swings open and a young woman in a mauve shift dress steps in, her heels clicking on the penny round tile. With strawberry blonde waves that fall past her shoulders and a gaze the color of emeralds, I expect her to be as snotty as she is beautiful, only she stops in her tracks when she sees me and exhales as she lifts a palm to her heart.

“You poor thing. Bad day?” she asks as she takes the spot next to me at the sink. Resting her small Prada bag on the counter, she begins to dig inside, retrieving a Tide pen. “I don’t know if this will do much, but you can try.” She smiles. “I’m Lillie, by the way. I work in Payroll.”

I take the pen, though I think we both know it’s no use. The biggest stain was the size of a salad plate a few minutes ago, but all this dabbing has made it almost double in diameter.

“I’m always spilling random things on myself,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Biggest klutz ever.”

“I wish I could blame this on myself.” I sigh, pressing the pen against a small area to see if it’ll work. “Some jerk ran into me.”

“Did he at least buy you another coffee?”

I roll my eyes, handing the pen back to the friendliest New Yorker I’ve met in my life. I don’t want to waste the rest of it.

“Nope,” I say. “He told me I needed to watch where I was going and then he walked away.”

Her jaw slacks and our eyes catch in our reflections. She has the prettiest spray of freckles across her nose and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I swear everyone in this office must moonlight as Fashion Week models. I’ve never seen a collection of people so beautiful all in one place. It almost feels like The Twilight Zone.

Lillie points, squinting. “Was it Javier in Accounting? I bet it was Javier. Did he look like Enrique Iglesias minus the mole?”

I laugh through my nose. “No …”

“Was he blond? If he was blond then that was Brendan, our VP of Marketing.”

“He had dark hair … and he was in jeans.” Now that I think about it, I really didn’t take that close of a look at his face. I was too in shock to process what had just happened, too worried about the transparency of my freshly-soaked blouse.

“Oh.” She pushes a breath through her nose and glances to the left. “If he was in jeans, he doesn’t work here. Welles would never let anyone get away with dressing like that in the office. He was probably some salesman or vendor or something.”

“Yeah, it’s all right. It happened. It’s over. I don’t even care to know his name anyway.” I face my reflection straight on, tugging at the damp fabric that clings to my skin.

“Oh, hey, wait! Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Lillie-from-Payroll turns on her heel and makes a beeline for the door, stepping out and returning thirty seconds later with a black cardigan in hand. “I always keep one of these in my office. Welles keeps this place ice cold year-round.”

I accept the cashmere-soft sweater. “Are you sure?”

Lillie’s eyes widen. “Yes. A hundred percent. Take it.”

“You are amazing. Thank you. I’ll have it dry cleaned and get it back to you as soon as possible.” I slip my arms into the sleeves and work the buttons next. The espresso-stained blouse beneath is a cold and wet reminder against my skin, but at least it’s out of sight and I won’t have to run home to change.

I’ve learned it’s always important to find the silver lining in every situation, even when it seems impossible. It’s the only way to stay sane in a world where things are constantly going wrong.

“What a first day,” I say when I get the last button.

“Aw, it’s your first day? I figured you were new because you didn’t look familiar. At least it can only get better from here, right?” Lillie reaches into her bag and retrieves a gold bullet of lipstick. A second later, she coats her mouth in the most perfect shade of office pink I’ve ever seen, though with our vastly different skin tones, I doubt it would look half as good on me. “You want to get drinks or something tonight? I mean, I know it’s a Tuesday, but it’s your first day and you look like you could use something to look forward to—unless you’re busy.”


Tags: Winter Renshaw Romance