Page 48 of All Our Nevers

“Yes, okay,” I say, distracted as I quickly scan the rest of the article before me, then click my phone screen off. “Okay, ready.” I take Owen’s elbow, LARPing as a person who would ever willingly touch him. I need to look like I belong here, after all.

These kinds of parties are ludicrous in their entirety. An excruciating limbo between professional and personal, with the all-around air of a mom telling her fourteen-year-old she can have one drink as long as it’s inside the house. There’s a live band playing a cover of “Come On Eileen” to a dancefloor of exactly zero people. At least the food and drinks are free.

The main room is ornately decorated: high tops draped in white, warm low lighting, chandeliers twinkling overhead. The event is packed, and Owen scans the crowd with a complete lack of subtlety.

I tug his shoulder down and hiss, “Don’t be so obvious you’re looking for someone. We have to end up near her by coincidence.”

“How are we going to find her if I don’t look for her?” he grits out.

“How tall is she?”

“Short. Five-three maybe?”

“You know where we would have a really good view of the room?” I turn my head just slightly, eyeing the wide-open dance floor.

“No.”

“I’m just saying—”

“And I’m saying no. Really. This isn’t like a cute thing where you’re going to convince me with your feminine wiles.”

“So you think my wiles are feminine?” I wink, and I can practically see the steam rising from his ears.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I’m not dancing at a work event. You can dance alone and I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

“Shocking that you don’t have more friends with such a fun and charming attitude,” I say.

“Bite me.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

He rolls his eyes, which has me grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to me.

“Hey, stop that. We have to look like I’m your date to this thing. Can you pretend you enjoy my company for a few hours?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just… smile and shit. Put a hand on my waist. Act like a person. You have seen people before, right? Even if you’re not one yourself?”

He obediently places a hand on my waist, shifting his body closer to mine. “You know, I’m beginning to think this whole thing was a ruse to get my hands on you.”

His fingertips press into the red satin at my ribs—a test and a challenge.

“Don’t be silly,” I say, placing my hands on his biceps in a show of workplace-appropriate flirtation. “I’m well aware that I could say the word and have you on your knees.”

His body shifts closer to mine, our gazes locked, his second hand finding my waist with equal ardor. “Maybe we should test that theory sometime.”

And he’s making it almost too easy. I lean forward to murmur in his ear, “Be a good boy for me today and we’ll see.”

“Himari! Great to see you.”

Owen spins me to his side so I can face the woman he just noticed over my shoulder. She’s short, yes, but somehow still statuesque. I would guess mid-50s, straight black hair cut in a blunt, shoulder-length bob, emerald green boat-neck dress tailored to perfection.

“Owen.” She comes up to shake his hand. “Good to see you. Great work with Liberty Mutual.”

“Thanks. I’ve always found insurance mergers more interesting than your average matter.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Himari says, and I pinch the inside of Owen’s elbow to remind him why we’re here.