“What is it you do again?” I said, slinging the strap over my shoulder.
“I’m a sort of consultant. Anyway, I have to run.” His gaze hardened as he glanced beyond me. A silent command filled his look before he took off down the aisle. Two men in pristine suits followed him. Clive met them at the front. The pack of suave, powerful men, led by a guy in a T-shirt and jeans, exited without a backward glance.
A nerdy guy with acne gave me an assessing stare as he made his way past me and into the aisle. Normally I would bend my face to the ground and pretend to be a plant. But something about Brad’s tone a moment before, not to mention his faith in me, unlocked Ms. Devastating.
The real me flooded out.
“Staring problem?” I asked as I straightened up and followed him.
His eyes widened. “N-no. Sorry.” His head bent to the ground. He hunched and skulked away, like I might’ve done.
Maybe I’d put a little too much attitude into it.
Checking my schedule, I continued on to the next thing.
The day had been filled with interesting information, though none so advanced as that first lecture. My hangover had minimized to a dull throb, which meant I no longer wanted to crawl into the bathroom and drop my head in the toilet.
Four o’clock rolled around quickly, so I showered, changed into a sundress, strapped on my resting bitch face for my coworkers, and headed to the meeting spot. Halfway there—hopefully; I was always lost—my phone chimed.
I took it out of my small purse and read the screen.
From Brad: “Are you going out tonight?”
Butterflies filled my stomach. I just barely stopped myself from doing the jig.
How’d he get my number? Was he stalking me? Because I didn’t care what the masses said—I would be a-okay with this guy tracking me down. I’d take that creepy to the bank!
Until he got weird. Then I’d call Frank to bury him under a pile of bricks.
Coming out of my reverie, I realized I was at the danged outdoor check-in area again. Why I couldn’t find the beach but could always find my way back to the check-in area was beyond me.
Scoffing, I quickly checked my messages, Sherlock Holmes style, and saw that there was an outgoing message, simply saying my name.
Ah ha! He’d entered his phone number and then texted himself so he had mine. He wasn’t leaving communication up to me.
I should care about that, probably.
I made a mental note to do it later.
Me: “Booze cruise with coworks. Wish me luck that I don’t toss one overboard.”
Brad: “With coworks? Lol. Which one?”
I furrowed my brow. How the heck should I know?
Me: “I’m on a need to know basis with my employer. Except I rarely know even when I need to. So…”
Brad: “Got it.”
I slowed to a stop and was immediately bumped from behind. An old woman jostled me as she skirted by, followed by an old man.
“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping to the side. The screen stayed bare of a follow-up message.
Got it?
Oh no! He probably assumed I was busy for the night.
Me: “But I’ll probably be out after. If you are around.”
I let my thumb hover over the send button. That message sounded like I was asking him out.
I changed it to: “I’ll probably be out after, though. No real plans.”
I let my thumb hover again.
Did it seem like I was asking him to ask me? Like I was hinting that I wanted to hang out with him? Because that would be all kinds of desperate-sounding, and men hated that.
I scowled at myself, since I was doing that insecure girl thing, and then grimaced when that scowl blasted a passerby in the face. The woman jerked away with a startled expression.
My resting bitch face was powerful. Beam that baby at the wrong person, and I’d be phoned into Homeland Security…
“Sorry,” I muttered, not sending the message just yet and getting back on course to the meet-up location.
I was thinking how to rephrase when a new text came in. It was from my boss. “We’re about ready to go. Are you coming?”
“Crap,” I muttered, putting on a burst of speed. I wound through the slow-moving crowds, took a detour through the pool area because the path randomly wound through there, and finally saw the glistening blue of the Pacific Ocean.
Once at the beach, I found my group standing together with a few unfamiliar faces. My insides did a jig so I didn’t physically have to.
He was there!
Brad was standing next to my boss with his hands at his sides, facing the resort. A twinkle lit up his eyes as his gaze found mine.
Granted, I was a bit too far away to properly see said twinkle, and his face continued to be stern, almost hostile, but my fantasies would not be squished.
“Ah, here she is.” Chris, my boss, gestured to me. He glanced at the clipboard a stranger was holding. “She’s the last one.”