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"It's not like I'm going to trick her into bed and then kick her out of it once I've gotten my rocks off, Ez." I cringe a little at the thought. I don’t like the idea of anyone treating Beth poorly. "I'll do the full wine and dine, and make sure she knows what she's getting into. I'll treat her real nice," he says suggestively, complete with the salacious eye waggle.
I really want to rage, to punch him and tell him to not lay a finger on my sweet Beth. That if he so much as thinks of her naked, I'll yank off his favorite limb and feed it to my neighbor's yappy chihuahua. That little fuck is vicious.
Instead, I keep my calm façade and shrug, pretending I don't care. The truth is that I care very much. I've just been too fucking chicken to pursue anything, worried that it would ruin the small friendship we've built.
If she accepts Cal's invitation to a date, does that ruin my chances of ever moving forward with her? I don't think it would make me feel different towards her, but would it be too weird if she ever did come around and think she might beinterested in a relationship with me?
I don't know why I bother thinking about it at all. It's not like there's ever been an indication she was interested. I'm sure I've given her all the right signals, if not subtlety, because I'm worried it would be inappropriate since sheismy student and pays a lot to take my classes.
Cal is a good guy, and I think the two of them would be good together, honestly. If there’s one thing that Cal is good at, it’s dragging people out of their shells. And it's not that I think he would ever be anything other than kind and respectful—he’d never put his hands on someone that didn’t want to be touched. But the inevitability of him leaving town for his next adventure means that whatever relationship they cultivate, if they do end up going out together, has an expiration date. And while I'll be here to comfort her if she needs it, I'm worried that it'll make her shy away from me even more.
Is it horrible that I’m hoping it might have an opposite effect?
"Ezra?" Cal's voice jerks me out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"I've been talking to you this whole time, and you've just been spaced out and ignoring me. Are you alright?"
"Of course. I was just, uh, thinking about my next class."
"Yeah, right, sure. So, will you pass my number on to her?"
"To Beth?"
"No, to the other gorgeous brunette you're simping over."
I roll my eyes at his sarcasm and clap him on the shoulder. "I'll do you one better, brother. Just make sure you look your best for the gallery showing tonight."
"She'll be there?"
"She works there."
Beth
“Well, I’d say we pulled it off, don’t you think, Bess?”
“Beth,” I correct her, knowing that she knows my name perfectly well. I look behind me, knowing that someone must be near. Cherith typically saves her favorite nickname to use when others are around. I’ll never live down the day I wore what I thought was a cute, flowy white dress with black flowers. Cherith and her best-friend-slash-trained-pet decided it looked like cow print. A year later, she still thinks it’s funny to call me “Bess” or “Bessie” and occasionally let out a low moo when I walk by.
It happens the most when there’s a man around, so I’m not the least surprised when our boss, Mr. Vandreth, comes up behind us.
“You girls did a really great job on this exhibition,” he says, standing a little too close for comfort. His hand claps me on theshoulder, giving it a little squeeze.Ugh.
“Bobby,” Cherith whines, cutting her eyes to where Mr. Vandreth’s hand is all but massaging my shoulder. “You promised you’d introduce me to Mr. Flynn.”
“Oh! Has he shown up, then?” I ask, carefully ducking away from my overly handsy boss and pretending to straighten items on the reception desk.
“He’s not due for another half hour, my sweet Cherry.”
Gag.
“What kind of person shows up late to his own gallery showing, anyway?” She huffs.
“Considering he’s a world-renowned photographer, I think our little gallery is lucky to have him at whatever time he arrives,” I say, hoping to hell that no one overhears her disrespecting our highly regarded client. “Even if he doesn’t show up, this exhibition is going to do really well for The Gregg.”
Cherith DuPont is beautiful. Petite, bleach blonde hair, makeup done to perfection and always tottering around on stiletto heels, rapid fire typing into her phone. She’s our event and social media coordinator for the art gallery, but she’s rarely doing any work when her phone is out. She does manage to post on the social media pages, but it’s usually selfies of herself in front of the art. As for actually planning and pulling off events like these? Well, it's easy to have the receptionist do it all for you under the guise of “delegating”.
Maybe if I minded more I’d fight back, but I love this place. I've poured my heart and soul into this art gallery for nearly ten years. I've actually been here longer than the owner, Mr. Vandreth, who purchased the gallery when the previous owner passed away. He kept me on the staff because Mrs. Greggs, my previous employer's wife, spoke so highly of me, telling him that I was the only person that kept the gallery running when Mr. Greggs got sick. Begrudgingly, as I clearly didn't meet the aesthetic he wanted to present, he kept me on the staff.
