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"You’re right! I could tell him it's part of the job. He would completely beg out of here. It would be perfect."
"See, your mood is already lifted.” She smiled. “You’re welcome."
"Ugh, I just wish I wasn’t stuck with Lurch over there."
“I'm sorry. But maybe it’ll be okay."
"No, don't be sorry. I really am very happy for you. You'll be happy, and Adam loves you. Not to mention, you guys are completely aligned career wise. This makes sense. I just need to give Adam the speech. You know, the one where I tell him to look after you or face my wrath. Because my mate is a complete and utter badarse."
"So is my mate. She's fantastic, brilliant, and she's going to become a captain of industry. All those business magazines are going to put you on the cover."
I knew what she was getting at, and still my brain viscerally rejected the very idea of it. The idea of me in a business setting, caring about the corporate ladder. The problem was, other than knowing I wanted to do something that actually helped people instead of making money for people who didn't need it or deserve it, I didn't really know what I wanted. I just wanted it to mean something. Which was why I gravitated toward translations and interpreting. I could really help people that way.
I’d even had a few interviews over the last couple of weeks, though none I was as hopeful about as the one with Quinly Global.
I wanted to be passionate and excited about something. Anything. But I didn't tell Jamila that because tonight wasn't the night for introspection. This was a happy I'm moving in with my boyfriend shindig.
"Honestly, you are going to be amazing at whatever you do, Nissa. Cheers, mate!” Jamila toasted me with her beer bottle. "To us."
The pub had started to fill up. There was a giggling group of freshers, straight from an exam; the second years, who also looked dazed from an exam and far less jovial; some graduate students, and some locals who looked like maybe they'd been dragged out to a spot they didn't normally frequent. The Totem was a college hangout. While it was nestled smack dab in the middle of London, it was still mostly students.
In the front part of the pub there were tables and a bar where you could sit around the corner before it opened. That's where Jamila had currently dragged Adam.
A gaggle of blonde freshers ran to the floor, screaming at the top of their lungs, "Come on, Eileen," and the rest of the tune that I didn't even understand how I knew the words to even though I was certain I had never heard the song in its entirety.
I finished my pint and decided to hit the loo before the place got really crowded. Normally, I loved being out. It was like my inner me was always searching for excitement and fun. But I wasn't feeling it tonight.
On the way, one of the fresher lads decided to try his luck and stepped directly in front of me.
"Excuse me," I muttered.
“I saw you sitting at the bar by yourself. I was working up the courage, then you started coming over. So I thought I'd introduce myself."
I sighed. "Look, whatever your name is, you seem nice, but—"
"My name is Douglas, and I am very nice. I'm also well fit, if I do say so myself."
And there it was, the ick immediately crawling up my spine. Even if I had initially thought, 'Oh, nice smile, good lad.' Now, I just really wanted to toss him out of my way.
"Aw, come on, just give me a chance."
From several feet behind him, his mates were laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of us. "A dare from your mates, was it?"
He smiled sheepishly. "A little, but you are fit, so… What do you say? Dance?"
I shook my head. "No. There are lots of fresher girls here who haven't heard all the bullshit before."
I tried to sidestep him, but he grabbed my elbow. "Look, you are clearly by yourself. You could use the company, right?"
I glowered at him and then glanced down at my elbow. I balked at him and then opened my mouth, ready to eviscerate him with my tongue. But suddenly, he released me. It almost appeared as if he'd started to float. It was only when I lifted my gaze behind him that I realized Westin was right there, lifting him off his feet with one hand. "Mate, the lady, and I use that term loosely, said she's not interested. So sod off."
Douglas had apparently had one too many, because he did not know what was good for him. Westin was six foot three, and while lean, he was clearly solid muscle, and he wore that I'm really not fucking with you look on his face.
God, the arrogance. Yes, his face was beautiful, but he was also a complete wanker.
But at that moment, every woman in the place and half the men were staring at him. Douglas scrambled. "Mate, what the fuck?"
Westin's gaze met mine. "Am I wrong? You don't want to dance with this knobhead, do you?"
