“Thereyou are,” she cooed, looking Beau up and down, and then looking back at me. If she noticed that I was wearing Beau’s shirt, she didn’t let on.
“I told you she was coming, Beau,” she said, squeezing his arm. Then to me, she added, “I saw Dylan-not-Damon outside, by the way. Watch out for that.”
“Too late,” I said as Beau smirked a little.
This is a banner night.
Noticing Beau’s smirk and then looking at me, Gemma said,“Oh, I need another drink, so I’m going to do that.” As she walked away, she mouthed what looked vaguely like “What is that?” but I couldn’t be sure.
I had to get out of there before I did anything else to embarrass myself. As I turned for the door, some guy yelled from the patio, “Beau! Harlan’s looking for you.”
“I probably shouldn’t ignore that request,” Beau said.
But he waited a beat, almost like he wanted me to convince him to come with me. But when I offered a smile and wished him a good night, he headed toward the pack of fleece.
“I’ll call you Monday, Este Todd,” he said.
There was my full name again—laced with curiosity, or maybe even flirtation. At the very least, it was a reminder he had looked me up, thought of me.
I slipped through the crowd in the opposite direction, carving a path back to the front door. I’d wait for my ride away from the jubilant howls of the party, thinking maybe the fresh air would take the edge off.
Or maybe I’ll inhale enough exhaust fumes to pass out and erase some of this dumb day from my short-term memory bank.
Unfortunately for me, the cars that were parked out front were trendy e-vehicles so that possibility seemed fairly remote.
With my ride twenty-seven minutes away, I bit down on the inside of my cheek.
Nothing was going right. My shirt was in the trash can. My stomach was in knots over the delicious hints of Beau’s cologne that kept drifting from his shirt.
Gemma came outside with a drink in a plastic cup. “We’re all going to Bar Marmont. You should come!” She pointed to a fleet of black SUVs queuing up to cart Harlan’s guests to their next destination.
“I already ordered my Uber,” I said.
“Cancel it. And don’t do the thing where you say you’re not coming.”
I’ve lost my shirt and my dignity. I want to join like I want a vital organ removed with a spork and no anesthesia.
“Beau’s coming,” she pressed, thumbing behind her to whereI could see Beau standing beside the waiting vehicle. He was looking our way, but as my eyes found his, someone approached, drawing him into a new conversation.
“It seems like maybe something’s going on with you guys after all?” Gemma asked hopefully.
“No.” I shook my head.
I’m sleeping with my boss. I don’t get to like Beau.
“Este, what is that face? Guys like that aren’t exactly flooding this zip code.”
“No, they’re not,” I agreed. “But I can’t.”
“Simon’s out of town. You’re out—for once. Let me be your wing woman. I’ll hold your phone and scan for Slack messages while you make out with him in a coat closet if you want.”
There was a charge in the way she looked at me, like she was daring me to tell her what I was holding back. But I couldn’t. Couldn’t tell her I liked the guy and I was in a nonserious, fuck-rangement with my boss.
“You go. Find your sequoia, Gemma,” I said, unable to hide the sadness creeping into my smile.
Gemma begrudgingly accepted defeat. “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she called.
And for a fraction of a second, my stomach lurched when Beau helped her into the waiting car. Then, the two of them headed down the hill, leaving me standing and teeth-chatteringly cold in Beau’s shirt.
