Ricky then returned his full attention to the monitor but I continued to stare at the carpet, bitterly regretting coming down here and wishing I was back in my office returning my mom’s e-mail.
“Hey, Charli,” echoed in the office.
“Char,” Ricky whispered, snapping me out of my self-induced fog.
Dragging my gaze reluctantly back to the monitor, I said, “Hey, Layton. I didn’t mean to interrupt ...”
Actually, I did.
Layton narrowed his eyes slightly and said, “Good to see you.”
When he leaned closer to the screen as if to see me better, I wanted to plunge into the depths of his eyes. I indulged myself by stepping a little closer but forced my hand to remain still and not reach out to trace his face.
Was that a slight tan? It suited him.
“Yeah, same. Honestly, I thought Ricky might be finished and wanted to debrief.”
“Did you switch to entertainment?” His eyes bored into mine, mesmerizing me.
“Um, no. I was just being a nice coworker.”
Ricky piped up, breaking the moment. “We’re going to see the movie this weekend. I know Char saw it, but I didn’t yet. I wanted to chat with you first, felt it would give meaning to it.”
“Cool,” Layton said with a tight smile. “Charli said she liked it, but you know, you can’t believe everything a girl says.”
A burning flush of shame scorched my cheeks. Embarrassment simmered in my veins, and I dropped my gaze again as I said, “Well, I did like it.”
I started walking backward, my feet barely able to move, let alone in reverse, as I stammered, “I ... um, I guess I’ll let you two get back to it.” I prayed I didn’t trip in my heels.
I was such an idiot. Honestly, I might be this twenty-eight-year-old hotshot at work, but in real life I was an absolute stooge. My eyes filled and I quickly turned toward the door before either of them saw the first tear drop onto my pale pink sweater.
Boy, I was a sight. Little Bo Peep crying because of the Big, Bad Wolf.
“Hey! Charli,” Layton called out. “I’m sorry.”
I ducked my chin and waved a hand behind me, dismissing him and his hurtful words as nothing.
“Stop, seriously,” he insisted.
“Char!” Ricky hissed at me.
I turned back toward the monitor to see Layton was leaned so far forward he was practically sitting on his desk, his face filled with tension.
What was I doing, stringing along some dude in California? For what?
“I’m going to finish with Ricky,” he said, “and by the way, thanks for passing my info along, and then I’m going to e-mail you. I actually have another meeting back out there with a smaller label who’s trying to woo me to use their music. Maybe we’ll finish our dinner?”
I opened my mouth and froze for a second. Since nothing was quite making it out, I snapped my mouth shut and gave Layton a curt nod before I turned and got the hell out of there.
