“I wish I could say it was something noble, but I went to business school and then got a job at a company that made batteries for phones. Then Harrison poached me.”
That is pretty boring. But to each their own. And he must be good at...whatever it is energy executives do to be hired by Harrison.
While Nate is making small talk, Cindy is fawning over Gavin like he invented alternative energy. And he’s lapping it up like he’s never been complimented before.
Fat chance of that being true.
My bad mood is saved by the sixth course, a literal palate cleanser course of mint sorbet and prosecco. Nothing can be wrong with the world when there’s prosecco.
It’s swiftly followed by the second main course. It’s filet mignon with another side of vegetables and rich garlic mashed potatoes. And seventh course wine.
My stomach isn’t quite used to this gastronomic excess, but every dish smells and looks amazing, and I find myself eating more of each than I had anticipated. Reminding myself that this is a marathon and not a sprint just gets me to tell myself to shut up and enjoy each course fully.
Naomi asks me about living in England, and I remind myself to tread lightly, knowing Harrison wants his daughter to come home. I emphasize that visiting Europe is amazing but nothing beats coming home. I share some of my more appropriate stories, leaving out any that ended with me and that hot English man. Or me and that hot Scottish man. Or the fifteen other times with the same hot Scottish man.
Out of the corner of my eye, Harrison nods in satisfaction, so I pat myself on the back and enjoy the cheese boards. I have a very nice eighth wine course buzz going, so when I see the ninth, the dessert course, I let out an excited squeal under my breath. There’s crème brûlée and cheesecake. I’m in heaven.
And also, dessert wine.
All of which I gorge on, happily.
After the food is cleared from the table, Harrison offers to take people to the smoking room for cigars.
I want the chance to network as much as the next person, but there’s zero chance I’m going to hang out in an enclosed space where people are smoking that nasty smelling business.
I excuse myself as they head to the smoking room. Naomi must feel the same way because she breaks away from the group as well.
“Do you need help getting back to your room?” she asks me.
“No, I’ve got it now. Thank you.” The wine is making me very bold about things that I don’t know very much about.
Which I only fully realize when I walk past the dining room for the third time. It’s just that all these hallways look the same: dark wood paneling, beautiful lighting fixtures, and portraits of wrinkly older individuals who look unhappy at the general state of things.
I finally do find my room, although I did pass a very nice chaise I contemplated sleeping on if the situation became dire.
As I’m opening the door for my room, movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Gavin walks to his door, his jacket slung over one shoulder and his entire chest is on view in the (unusually) tight shirt he’s wearing.
I lean against my door so I can enjoy the view.
“Hey, Riya.”
“Hi, Gavin.”
Gavin walks past his door and leans his own shoulder on the wall next to where I’m resting. “It’s a strange thing. Some of my shirts, this one definitely—” he looks down at himself “—is a little tighter than the last time I wore it.” He looks back at me with eyes too astute for my liking. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“You just had a nine-course meal. So.” My eyes meander over the expanse of his chest, the wine making me not care if he knows I’m enjoying the sight.
“It was like that before dinner though.” He takes a step closer.
“Hmm.” I’m uninterested in anything but those muscles getting closer to me. “Who knows what science is all about? We both took art history and business classes.”
He stops when he’s close enough that I either have to jerk my head up to see his face or bury my nose in his chest. I decide to jerk my head up, reasoning if I got my head buried in his chest, it wouldn’t be easy to lift it out again.
“I think the shirt had a little help,” he says.
I laugh to myself. “Did you freak out when you put it on?”
“I was uncomfortable coming down to dinner. Thought I was imagining things. Then I saw you and your eyes went immediately to my shirt, and I knew. Clever, Riya.” He pushes my hair behind my ears on both sides.
