She twirls her hair around her finger and, in an over-exaggerated way, lifts her shoulders and gushes, “Aww, you think I’m pretty.”
Breathing comes easier now, the pressure on my chest lessening with every ridiculous thing she does. “Well, you said I’m hot.”
She gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh my God.” She leans forward. “Did you think I was talking about you?” Huh? She motions to an eighty-nine-year-old man with hair coming out of his ears and pants hiked up to his nipples. “He’s the love of my life.” She shakes her head. “This is sooo embarrassing for you.”
I laugh—full-on laughing, which makes me cough. She pushes her water bottle toward me and I take a large gulp. She shakes her head. “No concern about germs, huh?”
I hand the bottle back to her. “Your germs and farts weigh heavily on my mind.”
“I’m Amber.”
Fuck. I didn’t want to know her name. I don’t want her to see me like this. I want her to think I’m strong, in control, and powerful—not an emotionally crippled ball of mental illness and a ticking time bomb. I never wanted her to see the real me. But there’s no pity in her eyes, only compassion and concern. And she did say she thinks I’m hot. “I’m Ryan.”
She frowns. “That’s the whitest white-boy name ever. Do you work for the Alpha Dogggz?”
“No. Sorry.”
She shrugs. “They might have better insurance.”
“Maybe, but I’d rather take my chances.” Gallows humor.
Amber leans back in her chair and—once again—no noise. We both notice it, but I don’t want the joke to get old. She drums her fingers on the large armrest that’s been baking in the sun. “We could sit here and talk about what’s wrong and try to problem-solve, or we can talk about random shit.”
“Random shit.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” She crosses her legs and kicks her foot a little. “Who would win in a fight: three great white sharks or five hippos? Assuming it was a battlefield both could successfully maneuver in?”
We spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the most random shit. This woman made Fox break all his rules. And in one of Ryan’s darkest moments, she makes him laugh.
Her phone beeps. She checks the screen and exhales. “Apparently, if I don’t get back to work, the whole company will implode.” Amber stands. “It was really nice meeting you. Um…I come out here to eat lunch when the cafeteria doesn’t have Dr Pepper, which is like all the time.”
She’s offering to see me again. I don’t know why, but stupidly, I blurt, “Can I have your number?” Fox already has her number. This is just an opportunity to fuck it all up. And, yet… there’s a fuse inside of me growing shorter by the second, and I don’t know who will be in the blast radius when it goes off.
She hands me the paper with a satisfied, smug expression. “And you must provide factual evidence why you think ten wolverines could take out a moose.”
Amber gives me a half-smile as she leaves. It isn’t until she’s out the door and long out of view that I check my phone. It’sher real number. She gave Ryan her real number—and he didn’t even have to get her off to get it. Weird.
