Chapter Twenty-Nine
Josh
BythetimeImove into Will’s apartment, not only is Dave well into construction, the shipping-container pool already sits pride of place in the back-yard, partially installed. These guys move like lightning.
Almost everything I own is still in storage—including the bed and painting I bought in the Blue Mountains—so it’s just me, my clothes, and a few books to move, which I get done in one trip.
Will lives at Neutral Bay in a flashy new apartment with views of the harbour. I’m looking forward to spending more time with my best friend. And we’ll be kicking it off in style with a party on my first night. The only cloud in my sunny sky is that Greer will be at the party.
We haven’t seen each other since our night out with Rob when he confirmed my worst fears. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve seen her. In my imagination. Every night. Whenever I close my eyes. Whenever I smell cinnamon. The list goes on. The texts and emails we’ve been exchanging about the house have been friendly with a side of caution. It will be tough to see her tonight and not fall on her, drag her to my room, and beg her to never leave.
By ten o’clock, the music is pumping and the apartment is packed with old friends as well as the new ones I’ve made at the office. I decided to invite my whole department, plus a couple of the account handlers I get on well with, and everyone seems to be having a great time. But no sign of Greer. Which is a good thing. It is. Except every time the front door opens, I look up to check who it is. And every time it’s not her, my heart drops. Which is ridiculous.
Will wraps an arm around my neck and shoves a fresh beer into my hand.
“What’s up, Josh? Why so glum?”
“I’m not glum. Maybe a bit tired after moving today.” Which is a ridiculous thing to say. The move took one trip in my car.
“Yeah, nah. We’ll be having none of that.” He swipes the beer out of my hand and propels me towards the makeshift bar against the wall. “What you need is a bit of …” He scans the dozens of bottles on the table until his eyes light up. “This,” he says as he triumphantly lifts a bottle of Crystal Skull before splashing it into two shot glasses.
“Bottoms up.” He’s knocked back his shot before I even get mine to my lips.
He’s right. I need to get my head back in the game. So, I follow Will’s lead. Twice.
And that’s when she walks through the door with Ethan’s new fiancé. And the vodka goes down the wrong way. Because my throat closes up.
She’s in red again. Redheads shouldn’t wear red. It shouldn’t work. But she does. And it does. And tonight it’s like every light in the room swivels and shines only on her.
“Choke on your tongue, Josh?”
Greer’s smile is almost predatory. Being the prey is an unusual position for me. After a couple of heavy thumps on the back from Will, I manage to get myself under control.
“Shot went down the wrong way,” I gasp-croak.
“Mmmhmm.”
Yeah. Mmmhmm alright. Her dress ought to be illegal. Like the black dress she was wearing at the club that night, it’s not skimpy or short. Somehow, even with a hem almost at her knees and a neckline skimming the pulse at the base of her throat, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.
Will shoves the forgotten beer back in my hand, and I take a long pull on it, buying time. Because I’m doing the Pavlov’s Dogs thing. And it’s not just the drooling.
Will disappears without a word, and I finally manage to remember my manners.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. Have you got any pinot grigio?”
I fish an unopened bottle from the ice bucket on the table and pour Greer a generous glass as Will returns, dragging a tall blonde by the hand. I know he’s been worried about my lack of female companionship, and if he knew the reasons, he’d probably throw me over the balcony. He’s already tried to set me up with a couple of women tonight, and I’ve managed to lose both of them.
“Josh, this is Lexi. Lexi, Josh. Lexi is an influencer. And she wants to dance. Come on Gee, let’s give these two some space.” And Will spirits Greer away, out onto the balcony. Leaving me alone. With Lexi. The influencer.
An hour later, I’m beginning to think limpet mine might be a better description than influencer. Nothing I do to shake her seems to work. Meanwhile, Greer is laughing and dancing and chatting with a long line of guys who clearly haven’t heard of personal space. Including one of the account handlers from my office who she met at the awards night. At least none of the creative team have gone near her other than for a quick chat. I’d hate to have to fire someone.
It occurs to me I might be overreacting. A little. Maybe a lot. But several shots and a couple of beers in and any tenuous hold I had on my thoughts is long gone. I can only hope they remain thoughts and don’t become words.
“I’m going to the bathroom. Want to join me?” Lexi asks, running her hand down my chest to rest on my belt, her intention obvious.
“Nah. You go ahead.” Maybe once she’s in the bathroom, I can find somewhere to hide. Luckily, I spot Sean and Fiona and the rest of the crew gathered at one end of the balcony, where the lights are nice and dim.
