“What do you mean?”
“Earlier in the restroom…you looked like you’d rather eat jellied eels than be here.”
“Jellied eels?”
“They’re a thing in England. Zero out of five, do not recommend.” I shudder at the memory of trying them when I was an art student in London.
Harrison laughs, and the sound travels down to places that need to stay well away from this conversation for now.
“That’s because it’s all over. The worst part, anyway.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment…I think.”
He stares at the canapes in silence. I don’t know if he’s picking something to eat or thinking.
“I am thankful,” he says. He’s so close to me again that I can smell his cologne. I finish my champagne and set the glass down on the table.
“What for?”
“I was kinda set up by my best friend and knew nothing until I got here.”
“Ah…that explains the freakout in the restroom.”
“Yeah…”
“I don’t do well in…certain situations.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I say before stopping myself.
Harrison tilts his head as if wanting me to expand.
I draw a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to judge. It’s just that in your suit, you look more like someone who’s about to defend a criminal than someone who’s expecting to get lucky tonight.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you read people too well?”
I lean closer to him. “Once or twice. It’s not a widely accepted personality trait.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he says, mirroring my words.
“Harrison, Harrison.” I don’t even know what to say. The man has the gravitational pull of the earth’s poles, but he also pushes back like no one I’ve ever met.
“You still haven’t told me the rules.”
“The rules?”
“What do you get for your generous donation?”
“Other than the pleasure of your company and raising money for a good cause, nothing,” I say.
“Oh.”
He looks disappointed.
“Which isn’t to say we can’t make our own rules.”
“What do you mean?”
I place a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast beneath.
