Rosie: Work.
George: *eye roll emoji* That’s the best you can do?
He wanted flirty banter? After a week of no contact, after a kiss that left certain parts of my body unable to operate for a full twelve hours. My legs could barely get me up the stairs of my building after I got out of his car. It’s a sharp reminder of what this thing between us actually was. He was helping out a friend. He didn’t have to agree to do this, but he did because that’s the kind of person George was; kind, loyal, and so fucking sweet it made my back teeth ache.
My dick-deprived brain was making this into something it wasn’t. Friends. He wanted me to flirt over text; I’d do it.
Rosie: Would you prefer me to talk about how my head has been filled with thoughts of your cock?
Silence. Three dots appeared, swiftly vanishing.
George: Flirting is usually more subtle, sweetheart.
Rosie: Terribly sorry. How’s this? (Just imagine it in a posh voice.)
Rosie: I’ve been utterly captivated by the consuming contemplation of your lower appendage.
George: My foot?
Roxy’s ears pricked up, startled at the sudden burst of laughter that punched from my chest.
Rosie: Yes, I’ve been utterly captivated by your foot.
George: You okay to go on the trip?
The sudden shift in conversation effectively stabbed a hole through my happy buzz.
Rosie: Why wouldn’t I be?
George: When we agreed to go, we weren’t, you know, doing this whole thing.
Good to know I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what the fuck to call us.
Rosie: This whole thing? You mean a friend helping out a friend?
I chewed on the end of my fingernail as I waited for his reply.
George: Yeah, that.
Rosie: I’m okay if you are.
It took a few seconds for his next message to appear.
George: I’m okay.
Why did it feel like we were as far from okay as we ever were?
17
Exiting the building,the cold air hit me like a welcome slap in the face. The suit Rosie picked out stuck to my body, a few inches too small, and since I hadn’t got it altered, one wrong move could be the end.
Not that it fucking mattered anymore. Itwasthe end.
Walking down the street, I tugged on the tie that was slowly suffocating me, yanking it free and tossing it into the nearest bin. What a waste of fucking time. Their superior expressions looking back at me from across the table as they practically sneered at the hours of work I’d put into my business plan. It was a solid plan and had taken up every spare minute of the past week. I’d barely eaten or slept, trying to get it finished and polished enough that they would look at it and see what I saw. A business worth saving. A store worth investing in.
But no.
They took less than half a second to flip through the pages before closing it up and giving me the look my dad used to give me when I was doing something stupid, and he had to let me down easy.
