“And third—wait, let me get my tea,” Blake embellishes for effect. “Tell me about these guys.”
My responding smile is wide and genuine.
This is what I need—therapeutic girl talk with my best friend.
“I met Hunter at The Circuit, Rory at Mocha Lisa, and Luke at the library,” I recall as I amble through the crosswalk.
“Aww. You met them in all your favorite places? Talk about meant to be.” She sighs wistfully. “Okay, yes. After Nate turned out to be a grade-A douche bag, the universe is definitely sending you some blessings.”
“Hunter is…older.” My shoulders drop, realizing how much I really do like him. “He’s mature and he’s commanding in an attractive way, and he doesn’t ask me if I want to ‘Netflix and chill.’” I make my distaste of the activity apparent with my tone. “And then there’s Rory. He makes me laugh, and I love talking to him. He’s unapologetically himself.”
“I’m loving this for you.” Blake squeals. “Tell me about the last one.”
“Luke. I met him at the library. We talked about books, and he makes me all giddy like a little girl. And he seems protective, but not in a way that makes me feel cut down or like he doubts my own strength.”
If someone told me there were literal hearts in my eyes right now, I wouldn’t doubt them.
“Aww. You really like them. I can hear it. You’re like a smitten kitten.”
“But after yesterday,” I comment, acknowledging the elephant in the room. “I doubt they’ll still be interested. I think by now they’ll realize who my dad is.”
“If they’re going to judge you based on who your sperm donor is, then they’re not guys you want hanging around anyway, babe.” Her advice isn’t what I want to hear, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Letting out a sharp breath through my nose, I reply, “I know. It’s just been nice to meet a good guy who doesn’t know about my connection to,” I glance at the people near me, trying to gauge if they’re listening, “him.”
“That’s understandable,” Blake validates.
Blake truly is an amazing friend. She doesn’t tiptoe around my feelings, yet at the same time, she shows me compassion and care. She forces me out of my shell but knows when to give me space.
Stopping on the sidewalk, I stare up toward the top of the RHL building. “I’m here.”
“Are you going inside?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. I won’t know if they figured it out or not until I do.”
“I’m proud of you. We’ll let our hair down and have some fun on Friday, okay?” Her question is less of an inquiry and more of a directive.
Groaning, I try to protest. “How about?—”
“We’re going out.” Her tone is final.
“Fine.” I don’t bother holding back my distaste of our new plans.
“Good. Now go to work, my big shot working girl. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Ending the call, I slide my phone into my pocket.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I force myself through the entrance and into the lobby. Everything seems normal. Various people are in the lobby, arriving at work, and Blair sits at her desk at reception.
With my emotional support pastry and coffee in hand, I head for the elevator and repeat the mantra in my head, “I can do this.”
I don’t notice Rory standing beside the elevator until I’m right there.
He’s waiting with crossed arms and his back against the wall. The butterflies in my stomach go crazy at the sight of him. He looks like a model from GQ.
When I’m almost to him, Rory pushes off the wall and approaches me. “Morning, Dream Girl.”
If I’m still Dream Girl, then maybe they don’t know.
