Alex:I said yes and now he wants to see what we've done with theplace.
Riley:He needs to get laid. Maybe he'll remember what it soundslikethen.
Alex:He has a crush on a girl from the park where he jogs eachmorning.
Riley:There we go. Problemsolved.
Alex:Not quite. He's never spoken to her. He justwatchesher.
Riley:And here I was, wondering whether it would be weird to crop this photo so I can have your belly button as the home screen on my phone. I don't need to see my dick or all that jizz, but your skin isgorgeoushere.
Patrick appeared outside my door,his laptop tucked under his arm. I set my phone face down, mentally shutting off all thought of Alex'sbareskin.
"We're meeting in Riley's office, Asani," he called down the hallway. "No rush. Whenever you're ready." He stepped inside and settled into one of the deep leather chairs on the other side of my desk. "This new project of yours on Charter Street is going to be abitch."
Reaching for my water, I considered this. The North End was one of my favorite neighborhoods in the city, but similar to Beacon Hill and the Back Bay, it was a pain in the ass to run large-scale restoration projects there. The streets were impossibly narrow and parking was nonexistent, and all of this meant everything took longer than necessary. Add to that tedious restrictions that often required the approval of neighborhood preservation committees, and we were looking at a long-term relationship with thisproperty.
"That's why I didn't want to take it on by myself," I said. "What do you think will come first? You and Andy getting married or me and Andy finishing work on CharterStreet?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "The two of you couldn't be more different in terms of design aesthetic and project management styles," he said. "I think you'll strangle each otherfirst."
Andy poked her head inside. "How shall I interpret the dick pic you just sent me, RISD?" she asked, holding up herphone.
"What are you talking about? I didn't send you anything." I blinked at her, baffled, but my stomach was somewhere in thebasement.
What didIdo?
Shannon's voice echoed in the hallway. "Why is your penis in my phone,Riley?"
Patrick rubbed his temples. "What the fuck justhappened?"
Matt crowded the doorway, a step behind Andy. "Hey, dude. Quick question. Did you mean to text me your dickjustnow?"
And then everyone was in my office. Shannon, Matt, Tom, Patrick, Andy, Sam…all talking at once and looking to me for some explanation. Instead of messaging Alex, I'd sent that picture of her belly button—the one in need of cropping because my cock was in there too—to my All Walshgroupchat.
Of fuckingcourse.
"I'm assuming this is Alexandra,"Shannonsaid.
"Oh my fucking god," I whispered, dropping my head into myhands.
Some people made lots of small mistakes. A symphony of screw ups. I, on the other hand, preferred big fucking disasters. Flooding basements. Cutting live electrical lines. Texting a picture of my cock lazing in a puddle of jizz on my girlfriend's belly to my entirefamily.
"I have to say," Tom said, his deep voice carrying over the low rumble, "the composition of this image is beautiful. You could frame this and it would make for some strikingartwork."
"That is appreciated," I started, "although I think Alex would die of mortification and I'm not sure I need to see pictures of my dick around thehouse."
"Why the hell not?" Matt asked. "Your dick's out oftenenough."
"Not to belabor the point, but this picture was takenhere," Andy said. She pointed at her screen, and Shannon nodded in agreement. "That's his desk. When you zoom in, you'll see those two knots inthewood—"
"Andy, for fuck's sake, don'tzoom in," Patrickcried.
"The ones that look like the Bat Signal?" Sam asked. "Goddamn. I didn't build that desk for you to rub your sac alloverit."
"Everyone's had sex in the office," Iargued.
As if it made a difference in this situation. Itdidnot.
