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twenty-one
greyson
My chair groans as I spin in it, my head tilted toward the ceiling, a pen twirling between my fingers. “What do you think about me getting a mascot? Like hiring some dude to walk around in a suit, handing out snacks or something?”
Rowan pops her head up from her laptop, her thinking face on, a pencil sticking out of her curly hair slicked back into a puffy bun. “Like Smokey the Bear?”
I curl my lip and hum. “No, not a bear. What else you got? A moose? No, how the fuck would that work? I’d need two people and there’s a slim chance Preston would even let me add another person to the payroll. He’s stingy with the numbers.”
“Well, youdidsay he’s better at them than you.” She smirks and sends me a wink, taking the pencil from her hair and jotting down a note on the pad near her laptop.
I stick my tongue out at her, my mind still on how I can convince P a mascot might equate to more profit, therefore more dollar signs for him to play with.
Maybe I could get Lukas to do it? I’ll tell him it’s a surefire way to snag women, and he’d buy the outfit himself.
“I finished edits on a few more photos. Want to see?” Rowan twists her laptop around on the glass coffee table, and I slide out of my chair to take a seat on the floor, fully stretching my legs. They’re tight from this morning’s run—although, this might be a bad idea. I’m not twenty-five anymore. I may not be able to get up without help. Getting old is bullshit.
Rowan taps on a key and a slideshow of pictures load. I click on the first one, blowing it up to fit the screen. Bright blue skies filled with fluffy clouds are the backdrop to one of Isaac’s classes. He’s center, arms spread wide over a table of survivalist gear, clients tuned in to him. The second photo is Jemmy and Gypsy scaling the rock-climbing wall. Zoomed in, we’re able to catch the sparkles in the granite, the sweat on their faces, the blinding smiles. Photo after photo of SoS and all it offers, exhibited using the gorgeous natural light and the eye of a talented photographer.
Shifting the computer back in her direction, I nod my head. “These are amazing. You’re seriously talented. The website is going to look so awesome once I get these uploaded.”
She puffs out her blue tank top clad chest and pats the sides of her dark hair before smiling and taking a half bow in the chair. “Thank you, and you’re welcome. There’s a few more I want to take—just waiting on your friend, Savy, to get me her schedule so I can pick a time to catch her in action. I’m really looking forward to seeing a session of archery.”
“Here.” I get to my feet, the audible pops from my knees loud as I lumber back to my desk.
Well, doesn’t that sound sexy?Hey Scarlett, want a piece of this aging man meat whose knees crack and snap more than Theo’s Rice Krispies cereal?
Unpinning the schedule from my bulletin board, I sit down and slide the sheet of paper across my desk as Rowan picks it up and scans it.
“Keep this copy—I can print a new one. I’d suggest coming when Evelyn is training. She’s this badass grandma, and you don’t want to miss it.”
Rowan laughs, and I join in just as my door opens.
“Grey, I found these and had to grab—” Scarlett stops talking once she sees us, a box of Tagalongs in her hand. She shuffles the box back and forth, a timid smile on her face. Her cheeks flame as crimson as the silky blouse she wears, and she tucks a cool blonde wave behind her ear, snagging a finger on one of her diamond studs. I somehow remember when Preston gave those to her on their first anniversary. He was so proud—picked them out himself. I squelch the jealousy over a long-dead relationship. I only wish I could gift her something and not just as her friend.
Jetting to my feet, I walk around my desk toward her. “Hey you. Thank you. Theo found my stash and cleared it out.”
“Like father, like son.” Her gaze flits to Rowan. I forgot for a moment she was still here.
Rowan rolls her lips into her mouth, stifling what I’m learning, are the thoughts she wants to let loose.
“Row here stopped by with some pictures and is just on her way ou—”
“To ask him to go on a double-date with you and Kellen.” The traitor herself plants one hand on her hip and pops it out, fanning her smug face with Savy’s schedule.
Scarlett rears her head back in apparent surprise, her face modeling mine.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at Rowan, but she completely ignores me, a smirk playing on the corner of her purple-stained mouth so I know the little Savy 2.0 heard me.
“Oh. Well, okay. I think we can make that work. Let me, uh, talk with Kellen and find a time and place.” Scarlett fiddles with the edge of the cookie box and I reach out for it, her hand contacting mine, static electricity zinging across our fingers.
“Honestly, we don’t have to do that at all.” I keep my hand on hers and she doesn’t pull it away. I rub my thumb over her soft knuckles, silently pleading, eyes locked with hers.
Say no, tell me you dumped him, tell me you want me instead.
“No, no, it’s fine. Sounds fun.” Her cheeks pink up once again and her gaze, pinched at the corners, casts to Rowan.
I’d rather jump off the nearest cliff than double-date with douche-nozzle Kellen, but I arrange a faux smile on my face.
