After scribbling down their advice on my cue cards I look up to see both of my wonderful friends stuffing their faces with leftover popcorn. I’m on a high, an adrenaline rush fueled by this rare, precious feeling of self-esteem. Is this what confident people feel like all the time? I take a gratifying breath. “I feel like I actually have a real shot at this.”
“Do you think Eric’s presentation will be as good as yours?” Alice asks.
“I know it will be, and he’s got the Black Book of Dreams to back up his strategy. This could really go either way.” I suck in my cheeks. The thought of the decision coming down to that goddamn Rolodex is a very real possibility. Being twice as good as him is a tall order, but it’s the bare minimum I need to be to stand a chance. “Now that I’ve started practicing, I can use the next ten days to refine everything and really nail it.”
“Have you spoken to Eric since the, ummm...” She mulls the word in her mouth. “... incident?” I filledAlice in when I got home a couple of hours ago and safe to say her reaction was not as subdued as Yemi’s. Weeks from now we’ll still be finding the popcorn she threw into the air like confetti at a wedding.
“Not properly.” I run my hands through my hair, wilder than usual from being towel-dried in a rush at the hotel room this morning. “What would I even say? Hey, thanks for the mind-blowing sex, I kind of want to do it again but I know it won’t work long-term. Also, I have some pretty damning accusations about one of the few people you trusted being the person who has been ruining your life and relationships for over a year.”
Yemi shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s so shady. Surely you have to tell him about that?”
“I feel like I should.” I cross my arms as though already protecting my body from the potential blowback. Would he even believe me? Or think it’s some sort of mind game to throw him off before the presentations?
Of course, I could do what he did to me. Keep it quiet to protect him, but maybe like me it would just cause more pain in the long run. Maybe if Eric had been upfront with me about William, it would have hurt but it would have saved me further pain. It would have helped me make decisions for my future instead of dwelling on the past.
“The main thing I need to do for now is clear the air.” I purse my lips. “Establish that what happened at the hotel can’t and won’t happen again.”
“Even if you want it to?” Alice’s lips curl and I blush.“Being in competition with someone while having a sordid affair with them is giving majorDangerous Liaisonsvibes.” She wiggles her fingers at me like mini jazz hands.
“But it’s going to end the moment one of them gets the job. They’re both too competitive to handle something like that,” Yemi argues to Alice.
My finger points toward Yemi in agreement. “Exactly! I know my limitations. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off before it even gets put on.”While it’s still just a gaping open wound.
My phone stares at me from across the room, the red circle of seven unread messages like an evil eye of doom. I could make this easy for myself and text him, but something this sensitive needs to be done in person. “OK, I’m gonna go talk to him,” I announce. “I’ll decide what I’m going to say on the way.” My keys jingle in my hand as I pace down the hallway and fling open the front door. My entire body freezes like a deer in icy blue headlights as I see Bancroft walking up the stairs toward my front door.
“We need to talk.” His low words echo up the stairwell and land right between my thighs.Fuck.He somehow looks perfect despite the evening being so humid it’s almost wet. His simple but impeccably cut white T-shirt and jeans manage to look so put together, leaving no doubt he’s wearing those subtle designer labels only people in the know can identify. Meanwhile, I’m wearing Daisy Duke shorts, which are slowly unraveling atthe seams and a top I found for 50 percent off in a bin at the charity shop.
Yemi’s curls bounce as she flips around to a wide-eyed Alice. “Pub?”
“Pub!” Alice confirms, overly enthusiastic about being forced out of her own home. “Text us if you’re... busy later.”
Behind Bancroft, I stare wide-eyed at Alice bending Yemi over the stairway’s iron railing and miming spanking her with glee.
I glare at both of them as they skip down the stairs, leaving me alone with a stony-faced Bancroft lingering in the threshold.
“Can I come in?” he asks in an unreadable tone.
“What are you, a vampire or something?” I sigh, attempting to disguise my heaving chest as annoyance. I widen the door for him as his large body brushes past mine. It leaves a faint trail of the cologne that has been haunting my sense memory for the past eighteen hours.
We both make our way into the main living area in silence. A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits me, like stepping out into the beating sun from an air-conditioned building. Nobody beyond Yemi and Alice has been here before, not even my family. His home taught me so much about him I would never know otherwise, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for him to know those things about me. Inviting him in is slicing through a taped-shut box containing precious parts of myself and saying, “Please, rifle through!”
OK, would I have done the exact same thing if I hadn’t been temporarily incapacitated while in his home? Absolutely. Do I feel good about that truth? No. What I found just from sifting through his coffee table decor started a chain of events in my head, ultimately leading to the shift in dynamic between us. A swooping sensation takes over my stomach as I remember the versions of us in those photos: tipsy in a Christmas-themed photo booth with cheeks pressed close. The way he looked at me when I was completely oblivious seems so far away from this reality.
He wanders to the carved wooden bookshelf on the far side of the room, shoulder muscles forming valleys across his T-shirt. He runs a finger over the creased spines of romance novels I used to read obsessively. They’ve been gathering dust since I moved here. I told myself it was because I didn’t have time to spend my nights combing their pages anymore, but all I’ve been doing instead is combing through pointless emails from Susie about what weeks-old TikTok trend she thinks would be good for a paid ad.
I clear my throat, and lean against the kitchen counter, immediately remembering what happened the last time I leaned against a kitchen counter with him in the room. I push off it and pace into the living-room area, leaving an entire sofa’s length between us. He scans the room silently, analyzing pieces of me he’s never laid eyes on before. The sensation it gives me is oddly reminiscent of him roaming my body with his mouth, catalogingeverything he felt and saw when the early-morning sun started to leak into the room.
“Where’s the painting?” His face is indecipherable as he studies the art- and film-poster-coated walls.
“In storage,” I lie, forcing my eyes to stay fixed on him and not my bedroom door, where the painting is hung above my bed.
“Hmmm,” he grumbles suspiciously, gliding a palm over the side of the couch.
He cuts me a faint sideways glance, sandy hair flopping over his forehead. My hand folds into a fist to stop from brushing it back.
“How was your date?” he asks.
“It was... nice,” I say to the floor.
