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“Okie dokie then.” She doesn’t ask any more questions, but heads for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Why don’t you take the day off?” I suggest.
Her eyes widen. “Mia, tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Right.” I nod. “Yay, weekend!”
“But we always work Saturdays,” she reminds me.
Normally, yes. But I don’t have anything going on right now that I need her help with. And I don’t want an audience when I attempt to call Michaela.
“I need a day off,” I snap, crossing my arms.
Her eyebrows almost reach her hairline, but she doesn’t say anything else about it.
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll see you Monday then.”
After she leaves, Garrett studies me in the silence.
“What?” I snarl at him.
He lifts his hands in the universal sign of surrender before approaching me slowly. When he’s a breath away, I lower my arms, the anger deflating out of me as fast as it came on. His hands lower to my shoulders, smoothing down my arms to tangle with my fingers.
“What’s the matter, Ames?” He doesn’t have to tug too hard, and I wrap my arms around him and burrow into his embrace.
“Nothing,” I mutter petulantly.
Apparently, I’m in toddler diva mode tonight.
He chuckles, his hands sweeping along my back and relaxing the tight muscles along my spine.
“You’re upset.” It’s not a question, but not really a statement either.
It’s also the truth, but not one I want to admit to.
“Am not,” I argue.
“Ames.”
“Just—I need this right now.” My arms tighten around his waist, and he falls silent. “I got a call today.”
He stiffens. “From Fucker?”
I haven’t heard from Fucker since the night of the pre-production party.
“No. Not from him. From Michaela King. Have you done a video with her yet?”
“No.” His voice rumbles under my cheek. “Not yet. I’ve met her though.”
“You have?”
He nods. “At a party with Reverb that Meric was invited to.”
“Oh.”
“Why did she call you?” he asks quietly.
“Supposedly, she wants to talk about Tucker.”
