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“Yeah, Wes is meeting us a bit later after his shift is up, but Gabe said he’ll be there.”
I nod in response.
The rest of the day drags, a fresh client file landing on my desk as the clock displays 5:00 PM.
That is a problem for tomorrow.
I pack up my things in record time, but Jackson is still typing away on his computer.
“C’mon, let’s go.”
“I’m almost done,” Jackson says, not even looking up from his task.
Making my way into the outer office to start shutting off lights, I notice Hannah still typing away as well. Since our earlier interaction, her hair has shifted into a haphazard mess of a bun atop her head, her glasses fixed to the bridge of her nose.
I didn’t know she wore glasses—weird.
“Wrap it up, princess.”
She responds with a nod, and much like my interaction with Jackson moments ago, she keeps typing.
Does no one listen to me?
Unlike Jackson, I don’t totally care how late she stays as long as she shuts off the light and closes the outer office door before she leaves. Jackson, however, I care about, since the rest of his evening is integral to my own plans.
“Jax, c’mon.” The moment the words leave my mouth, he is shutting his MacBook.
As we make our way out of the office, Hannah is still working and, from the looks of it, has no plans of stopping any time soon.
Whatever.
“Don’t stay too late, bug, okay?” Jackson says to her,messing with the bun on top of her head in a noogie-type motion.
“I’m almost done.” She doesn’t look up at him, so something tells me her words are just to make him feel better.
“Okay…well, we’re heading to Harry’s.”
“Dude, let’s go…” Irritation bleeds into my voice as I say it, but I can’t will myself to care if I’m appearing crass. I want a beer.
“Yeah, yeah.”
By a pure stroke of luck, we arrive at Harry’s just as Gabe sits down at the bar, the pretty redheaded bartender waiting to take his order.
“Hey, man!” I smack him on the back as I sit, causing him to jump a bit. “You okay?”
“Yeah, uh, I’m good. Long day.”
I’ve known Gabe long enough to not pry when he’s like this. It honestly could be anything and it’s not like he’s prepared to tell me anyway.
The bartender—Brittany, apparently, according to her name tag—takes our order and before I know it returns with three draft lagers in hand.
“Thanks.”
Gabe’s phone dings on the bartop, causing my eyes to instinctively travel to the light.
Kara
you can’t be serious. you are LUCKY to have me, and if you think there’s another woman on this earth who would actually fucking date you, then you’ve got another thing coming.
