To the humiliating memory of nearly throwing myself at him like some lovesick idiot.
I needed to clear the air. To tell him it wasn’t what it looked like. That I wasn’t trying to seduce him. That it was proximity and stress and possibly not getting laid in a while—though, maybe that last part could stay unspoken.
I groaned quietly and took another sip of my drink. Ireallyshould’ve taken Claire up on her offer last week. Just…cleared the pipes.
“John sends his apologies. He won’t be joining,” Charlene announced suddenly.
For a second, I panicked, wondering if I’d said his name out loud. But then I saw her phone and realized—he was textingher.
“Let’s just get started,” she added. “Here’s how the next round will work…”
I turned my own phone over. Blank screen.
No message. Not even a stupid emoji.
Otis caught my eye. I flipped the screen back down.
Thirty minutes later, after smiling and nodding my way through the meeting like a malfunctioning animatronic at a theme park, I excused myself and headed for the bathroom.
The mirror didn’t do me any favors. The industrial light and glossy black tile only made it worse—my skin looked feverish, my eyes glassy, my lips bitten-red.
The door opened behind me.
“This is for little girls only,” I said.
“Little girls, bad bitches, same difference,” Otis replied, leaning against the sink next to me. “So. You gonna tell me what happened?”
To his credit, Otis hadn’t pushed for info on John. Not this morning, nor on our way here.
I turned on the tap, washing my hands just for something to do. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His reflection raised both brows. “You spent the night atJohn’s. And today, you’re walking around looking all dazed and horny.”
I froze. “Oh, no. I do?”
Otis waved a hand. “It’s fine. To anyone who doesn’t know you, it might just look like syphilis.”
“Dodged a bullet there,” I muttered, rummaging through my Vivienne Westwood knockoff in search of my chapstick. My lips were practically raw from chewing on them nervously.
“Nora Rose,” he said, gasping like a Broadway ingénue, head thrown back. “You don’thaveto tell me anything. But maybe… just a hint?”
Of course. I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer.
“Nothing happened.”
Otis gave me a look that saidtry again.
“Fine.Almostnothing happened. We watched TV, ate some food… then nearly kissed.”
He gasped.
“I made a complete fool of myself.” I buried my face in my hands and leaned against the sink, too ashamed to look at him. Iknewthat smug little smirk would be right there waiting for me.
“That would beveryon-brand for you.”
“I’m serious. He probably thinks I have acrushon him. Like…feelings.”
“And of course, youdon’t,” Otis said, eyes wide with mock innocence.
