AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hit accept.
Prisha squeals. “You look like royalty, Annie!”
I blush with pleasure.
And then, I consider her word choice.
“Um, define royalty?” I ask.
Because “royalty” could mean anything fromI’m channeling my inner Meghan Markletothis look has a touch of the Henry VIII about it(and by that, I mean that I look particularly ginger and double-chinned today. Not that I’m in the mood to behead someone. Except Prisha, of course).
I squint at my reflection again, then let out a long sigh. Whether or not my royal counterpart is a TV star sex kitten or a portly, syphilis-riddled, guillotine enthusiast, there’s no denying that this dress is a little tight in the butt region.
“Annie, you look hot. Smoking hot. Good enough to eat. Etcetera, etcetera, you get the picture. Wipe that worried look off your pretty face and quit overthinking.” She pauses. “And maybe while you’re at it, wipe off some of that bronzer. You look… dirty.”
“Dirty?” I squeak.
“You know, like you were doing some heavy gardening earlier and didn’t quite get all the mud off your face.”
I knew it!
“Oh my gosh!” I grab a Kleenex and frantically scrub until I look shiny and red and apple-cheeked. Henry-VIII-style apple-cheeked.
“I’m just going to cancel,” I wail.
Oh, good. Back to my whiny tone.
Prish grins knowingly. “You’re making a very big deal out of a ‘work event’ with Liam.Noware you ready to admit that it’s more than that? That you loveeeee him, you want to kissssss him…”
And she’s off, singing away in her bestMiss Congenialityvoice.
How dare she use my favorite classic romcom against me?
“I do not!” I exhale hard, then focus on rubbing extra foundation on the reddest bits of my freshly-scrubbed face.
Prish raises her brows. “You want to marryyyyyy him.”
“Fine! Fine! I give.” I grab a perfume bottle and spritz myself, needing something to do with my hands. “He’s hotter than hell and I might have a teeny tiny bit of… interest… in getting to know him better. He’s… interesting. But nothing more. I’m not.... interested in him like that.”
Which is what I have to keep telling myself. No matter how my heartbeat picks up at the sight of him, or how sweet he was with Legs the other night, or how he was clearly flirting with me about his darned t-shirt yesterday… and I was shamelessly flirting right back.
But shouldn’t have been. I need to keep it together, professional.
So what if the guy is an onion—made up of lots of delicate, translucent layers to peel back? You know what else onions do when you peel them?
Yeah, they make you cry.
“You want to say the word ‘interest’ some more, or is it my turn to talk?” Prisha asks, sounding all too triumphant.
“Neither.” I pull a sulky face at my phone screen. “Look, I can’t be, um, interested—shut up!—in Liam. He’s my boss, and after Justin, I swore that I’d never get involved with anyone at work again. Being taken seriously in my career is my priority. Not finding a man.”
“That is a dumb way to live your life, Annie. What if true love is right in front of you, and you’re not allowing yourself the chance at happiness? All because of a promise you made to yourself that doesn’t apply anymore.”
“Or what if, for once, I’m being smart and thinking ahead?”
“It’s a gamble either way, I guess. I mean, if you really don’t want to go for it with your sexy, tattooed, grunting, romance-hero-level, manly-man of a boss, you could always just ignore him.” Prisha says this like it’s so simple, so straightforward.
But nothing has been straightforward since I stepped on that plane.
