“Have you considered pushing a desk on the other side then maybe the person on top could bend over?” She moves again.
“Henri,” I rasp.
“What?”
“Could you get off of me? I get what you’re doing, but my body doesn’t know the difference.”
“I thought you did this with Jasmine? Why would it be different with me?” she cocks a brow, daring me to tell the truth. I just might to see what would happen.
“He does what with me?” Jasmine asks as she turns the corner, seemingly unfazed by the scene before her. “Oh, Unnamed Position three-fifty-four. Henri, put him out of his misery. What he’s trying to say, while praying not to get a boner, is that I don’t rub my ass on him like that.”
“Oh shit.” My arms give out and I fall on my ass, Henri landing on top of me.
“Fuck.” Henri’s eyes flare wide and she scrambles off me now that we have an audience.
“Just don’t bring it up at Christmas,” I mutter.
“Yeah. I don’t think I will.” The pink flooding her cheeks lets me know that at least I’m not alone in my mortification. My back thuds against the side of the desk.
“I think we need a drink!” Jasmine chimes.
“Yes, that would be great,” Henri says.
“Oh, not for whatever the hell I just walked in on. We’re celebrating my shoot being done. Despite being thwarted at every turn, Henri came through. Liam, can you come help me grab cups?”
I clamber to my feet and follow Jasmine to the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure it was an honest shipping mistake.”
“And I’m pretty sure what I saw wasn’t an innocent moment between you and the woman you’re interviewing for a career-making article.”
“She asked me to show her.”
And you do anything she asks? Or is that just for sex positions no one should perform in a real-life circumstance if they value their dignity and pleasure?” Jasmine quirks a brow as she lowers herself to the floor and opens one of the cabinets. Tins clink and plasticware tumbles as she searches.
“So, yeah, if she asks me to do something, I’ll do it.” I say, knowing it’s true.
Jasmine rocks back on her heels to look at me. “You’ve been here for years and the first girl you show any interest in is one being paid to spend time with you? Please tell me you know this.”
“It’s easy spending time with her.”
“Is it easy, or is she someone who has experience becoming anyone’s dream girl?”
“She’s different with me,” I snap, growing defensive. Lowering my voice and checking my temper I continue. “I’ve seen her on those dates—we were at the same restaurants remember? She’s so composed when she’s with her clients. Professional.”
“Not sitting on their dicks?” Jasmine supplies and I shoot her a glare. “Point taken, but still, be careful. She’s a runner. Iris talks about how she’s never seen her really date. Commitment scares people like that. She’s the absolute last person you want to start a long distance relationship with.”
My jaw ticks at the reminder that soon I’ll be across the country. “I’m not gunning for a relationship. I just like being around her.”
I barely have any time left in the city and I’m happy to share it with Henri; she makes it feel like magic. It’s the same magic I know she shared with her clients, pushing them to become the versions of themselves she knows they’re capable of being, but I get another version of her. I know I do. One that’s brighter and will say whatever’s on her mind.
“Oh, the sweet strains of denial,” she sings before returning to the cabinet. “Here it is.” She pulls out a large cookie tin and pops off the lid, revealing a selection of canned cocktails I recognize from three months back.
“I thought you said we were out of the Bellinis?” I demand.
“I lied. But because of that, you can have more than you would have. Now, get some wine glasses and let’s hope someone remembered to refill the ice tray.”
I find a single ice cube that Jasmine claims because it’s her celebration and her (stolen) drinks.
Jasmine pauses, cocking her head. “Is that?”
