Page 7 of Don't Stop


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“But you’re going to keep an eye on Amanda.” He sounded half threatening. “Aren’t you?”

Taking a long drink, I sighed. “Yeah, I’m obviously going to keep an eye on her. She’s your sister.”

Bryson looked instantly relieved. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension on his face slipped away. “Oh, thank god. I tried to tell her this was a mistake, but she’s stubborn. She was determined to do it anyway. I owe you one.”

“You definitely do,” I said with a loud laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

When he took my glass and refilled it, adding another lime, he looked at me. “There’s something else I need too.”

I laughed, throwing my head back and taking the offered drink. “You’re going to make me wish I still drank, aren’t you?” I said, earning a glare.

“The wedding is in a couple months,” Bryson said.

I smirked. “Whose wedding?”

Bryson groaned, reaching across the counter to punch my arm. “My wedding, jackass. I need you to be my best man.”

“Me?”

He poured another shot and took it. Was he nervous? I chuckled, and he glared. “Yes, you. You just have to stand there and pretend to be my best friend. Come on.”

“Maybe I am your best friend.” I smirked at him.

Bryson glared, spinning his empty glass on the counter. “That’s because neither of us really have any friends, asshole.”

“Exactly.” I laughed, rubbing my hand along the underside of my chin. His jaw dropped, like he thought I’d actually be torn. “Yeah, I’ll be your best man.”

“Thank you. I waited too long to ask you. Mackenzie is already on me to get the suit figured out, so you need to go get fitted.” He offered an apologetic smile, handing me a business card for a suit shop.

Chapter six

Amanda

“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt,” I grumbled when I took a sip of my coffee and a drop dribbled down my chin. I caught it before it dripped onto my shirt, and I glared at the mug. Did I need the caffeine bad enough to risk spilling on myself on my first day? I put the mug in the car, staring at it for a second. Checking the mirror to make sure my lipstick wasn’t smudged and each hair was in place, I climbed out of the car and left the mug there.

I fingered the smoky quartz in my pocket. It would bring me good luck, and as I brushed my finger over the smooth surface, I felt confident. This was the right decision. No matter how many times I’d felt nervous over the last few days preparing myself for today, the closer it got, the more excited I was.

There were a few others walking into the building with me, and I followed them into a large conference room with rows of chairs. Some of the chairs were already occupied, and others stood in small clusters of people. At the front of the room was a table with binders, bottles of water, and a random selection of pens and sticky notes. On the wall hung a large wood sign with the name of the company on it.

I held my breath when a shorter man in a full suit and a cheesy smile stepped up to the podium under the sign. When people slowly migrated to seats, sitting next to people that seemed to be instant friends, nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. For a moment, I considered sitting at the front. There were plenty of open seats. I could probably learn better there.

Then he walked in. Drake. My brother’s friend. I groaned. Had Bryson talked to him already? Was he here to check on me? I was torn between finding a seat at the front, hiding at the back, or sneaking out the side door and not returning. Instead, I ducked into the bathroom.

It was empty, and I slipped into one of the stalls and locked it behind me. “You can do this,” I mumbled, taking a few steadying breaths.

When it felt like my heart was no longer pounding in my throat, I walked out of the stall. I took longer than normal to wash my hands, looking into my reflection as I did. The woman in the mirror didn’t look nervous—she didn’t look like she was hiding in the bathroom from her brother’s friend on her first day of a new class that might hopefully lead to a job. She looked like she was ready to demand what she wanted.

I slipped out of the bathroom and spotted an open seat in the back row. It felt like I was walking on the tips of my toes in that direction when Drake turned the corner. I spun in a circle, quickly facing a group standing slightly behind me. With a small skip, I stepped up to them, nodding as if I agreed with whatever the girl had been saying.

They looked at me funny, and I offered them an apologetic shrug with one shoulder. When Drake started to walk by, I lifted my hand, placing it next to my face as a guard and turning more into the group that was staring at me like they wished I’d walk away. He didn’t stop and talk to me, continuing to a chair at the front of the room. I waited until he was seated and facing away from me before I put my hand back to my side.

“Sorry. Thanks,” I murmured quickly before I hurried off in the direction I had come from. I reached the back row without seeing him again. My ass was barely touching the chair when the man in the suit at the front of the room started to speak.

“Welcome to the first day of your new life. For some of you, this is a promising new career. For others, it’s a good lesson learned.” Then he grinned. “I’m Phil Trent. Your new boss.”

People clapped for him, like he had said anything impressive. Most of them were probably just preemptively kissing his ass. Then he put his hand up and the room went silent. “This,” he started, pointing to the front row and waving, “is Drake Moore. He’s my right-hand man. He’ll be helping with this course over the next several of weeks.”

Drake stood up and waved briefly. I slid down in my seat, ducking slightly in hopes that he didn’t see me when he scanned the room. He didn’t appear to, and I let out a relieved sigh as he sat back down. Helping with this course? As in I was going to have to work a lot harder to avoid him?

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