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“You sound like Beth,” I said. “Plus, you’re so mentally weak the only code you could break is an alphabet game onSesame Street.”
“Hey! No fair, I’m not the one who needs a hamburger and seventeen cups of coffee to get through the workday—my brain only functions on one hundred percent organic.”
“Pshaw.”
“Did you just say ‘pshaw’?”
“Pshaw,” I repeated.
“Okay, granny pants.”
“Your pastry this morning was butter layered upon butter layered upon butter,” I said, laughing. “You’re so selectively vegetarian-slash-vegan it kills me.”
“I’m one hundred percent organic, baby, and I plan to stay that way. How else do you think I can keep this rock-hard subsystem known as my abs?”
“Please. I’m eating.”
“I almost forgot, about Siobhan—”
Garrett stopped midbreath to stare at the woman who managed the dub department. It was the world’s most boring job: making copies of tapes and commercials and anything else that people might need. Erica was stunning, of course. One of life’s worst ironies: gorgeous girl, boring as the tape that she watched roll and roll. He whispered, “Man, her ass looks awesome in those jeans.”
“Food still going into my mouth.”
“It’s perfect. I have a mad, illogical crush on her.”
“You and half the company,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Finishing my cheeseburger, I crunched up the wrapper and picked up my tray. “I’m heading back upstairs. You can sit here and drool or you can come with me, your choice.”
Every time he said something like that about Erica, the butterflies took a nosedive into my colon. Why did it bother me?He was not my boyfriend. And comments like that had cemented our friendship. Garrett talked to me like a guy—at least, that was how I imagined he talked to other men, all about asses and tight jeans and grossly unfair beauty. He had a crush, and he was talking about it with a friend.It’s what you do. Except I wanted him to be as smitten with me as I was with him, wanted him to look atmyass, wanted him to raise his eyebrows knowingly whenIwalked in the room.
Garrett got up and stood by me, watching Erica while I tossed my stuff. “How much do you think she works out?”
I hip checked him back into the conversation as we made our way out of the food court. “What were you saying about Siobhan?”
“Dude! I can’t believe you didn’t notice your boss completely making out with Andre, the head of marketing.”
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not.”
“Maybe I was drunker than I thought.”
“Considering it was your idea to go to the strip club in the first place, I’d say that’s probably the case.”
As we stepped outside into the cold, December air, I wished that I had grabbed my coat. Trying to suck it up and run across the road had been a mistake. Bloor Street had gotten sloppy in the half hour since we’d been underground. And the cars weren’t adjusting their driving, whizzing through the snow as if it was July and not the middle of winter. Garrett tucked me under his arm and raced us back to the south side, horns blaring. Collegial, friendly, but my heart paused on the gesture—the warmth of his arm around me, how close he held me. It was dangerous, to like it this much.
“Are you prepared for dinner next week?” Garrett asked while we waited for the elevator. “I know cooking is not your strong suit. Jen’s excited by the way, she’s dying to get a chance to talk to you, you know, properly.”
“Prepared? What’s to prepare? We’re going to order curry from up the street.”
“Sounds good and totally veg, thanks for that.”
“Sure. Rob’s excited too. He wants to get to know you both so he can hang out if I end up going to one of the all-night dance parties my friends from high school have taken to organizing. They have this crazy listserv that I’m stuck on for some reason. I keep threatening to make him go.”
“Awful.”
