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“I told you, didn’t I?” Oliver gripped the strap of his backpack as they ambled along Bloor Street West bathed in dwindling sunlight and twirling snow flurries. “I knew she’d be more than happy to provide you with a written reference.”
Georgie hadn’t stopped grinning since they’d left. “I know, you were right. I hated asking, but hey, there’s no reward without risk.”
“I can see it now.” Holding his index finger and thumb in the air two inches apart, Oliver traced the air like he was outlining a theatre marquee. “Georgina Law, Head of the History and Social Sciences Department.”
She skipped playfully. “Thanks to you taking me on!”
“More like thanks to your brilliant idea. That presentation was all you, Bug.”
“Correction: all us! We fucking rocked!”
“Yeah, we did.” Warmth coursed through Oliver’s veins as he exhaled a breath, stolen by the chilly breeze. “I don’t think she’ll fire me now.”
“She would never! You make her look good.”
“This is such a high,” said Oliver. “It’s almost as good as sex.”
“Almost?” Georgie threaded her arm through his as they turned the corner, heading toward the Bay Street subway entrance. “Sounds like someone needs a reminder that nothing beats sex!”
“Stay tonight?” he growled in her ear.
“Only if you beg.” She stared at his lips. “And let me ride you—hard.”
Oliver swallowed. “Fuck yeah.”
However, Oliver’s amorous desires were no match for the dreaded return of dive-bombing butterflies tormenting his stomach. His flirty smile faltered. “But there’s something I need to take care of first.”
Her knowing grin suggested no further explanation was necessary. “I thought you might.”
“You’ll wait at mine?”
“As long as you need.” Georgie squeezed his arm, her eyes shining bright. “You can do this, Ollie. Whatever happens, your mum would be proud of you. And so am I.”
* * *
Approaching McNally’s, Oliver dried his sweaty hands on his wool coat.
Remember what Georgie said. He paused just shy of the Carlton Street entrance and smoothed his hair. You can do this. There’s no reward without risk.
Exhaling heavily, he pinched a fluff of lint from his lapel, cleared his throat, then walked inside. As Georgie had predicted, the bar was empty except for four beer-guzzling old timers chatting to the bartender and a pair of servers refilling salt and pepper shakers. Hockey highlights from the previous night’s Leafs loss blared from the TVs, and sat alone in a booth near the pool tables was Will, wrist-deep in paperwork.
The male server glanced up with a hospitable smile. “Feel free to sit wherever you like.”
Oliver nodded. “Thanks.” Holding his backpack by its top handles, he wound his way through the empty tables, his zigzagging approach catching Will’s eye.
“Oliver, hi!” He peered past him, adjusting his glasses. “Georgie with you?”
“Um, no. I, uh—actually, would it be possible to have a private word?”
A concerned look washed over Will’s face. With Georgie making herself scarce at the bar as of late, his uneasiness was probably related to her. “Sure.” He stood without hesitation, gathering his paperwork and motioning toward the back hall. “Let’s head to my office.”
The short walk was the longest of Oliver’s life.
“Please, take a seat.” Will closed the door and squeezed past a tower of unopened boxes. “Sorry about the mess. We have a brewery promotion next week and there’s nowhere else to store the t-shirts and caps.”
Sinking into the distressed leather chair, Oliver hid his hands beneath his backpack, hoping Will wouldn’t see them trembling.
He placed his paperwork on the desk, concern creasing his forehead. “Is Georgie okay?”
