“Be available Friday night,” he says. “I’ll send through details shortly.”
“Will I need to wear pants and a bra?” I ask. “Because that’s a whole other level of commitment right there, and I don’t know if I’m ready to be that intimate with you yet.”
“Then by all means, consider pants and bras optional. God knows, I won’t be wearing a bra.” He pauses, and it sounds like he’s covering the phone to talk to someone in the background. When he comes back, he says, “I’m sorry, Miss Tate, but I have to go. I’ll be in contact soon.”
“Okay.”
“Take care of your back, and have a great week.”
“You, too. I mean, the great week part. Your back’s fine.” Jesus, stop with the babble. “Okay, bye.”
I hang up, a grin splitting my face. I put down my good mood to being excited about finally moving forward with my story.
Yeah, of course. That’s the reason.
When I spin my chair around to go and get a fresh cup of coffee, Derek is standing two feet away from me, arms folded across his chest.
“Jesus!” I say, pressing my hand over my skipping heart. “Sneak up much, Derek? Isn’t that against company policy or something?”
“No, but do you know what is against company policy? Chatting to your boyfriend on the phone and making heart-eyes so big, I can see them from my office.”
“There’s a wall that blocks me from your view.”
“And yet, here I am to remind you that I don’t pay you to make personal calls.”
“I wasn’t –”
“Of course you weren’t. You just look like a giddy school girl because you were speaking to your accountant. I understand. Now, get the fuck back to work.”
Before I can say anything else, he stalks off toward Accounts.
I swear to God, that man gets more unpleasant every time I see him. If and when this story hits big, I’ll find incredible satisfaction in moving on to a new job where I never have to look at his bastard face again.
Heart-eyes. Pfft. I don’t even know what the hell that is, let alone how to make them.
THIRTEEN
Bon Voyage
“Do you have your passport?”
“Yes.”
“A photocopy of your passport? And your credit cards?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“What about antibiotics? Take them with you, just in case you catch a UTI from having crazy euro-sex with a dude named Jacques who has a monster baguette-dick.”
“Eden, chill.”
Asha grabs my shoulders to stop me from repacking her suitcase. Staying still isn’t fun for me right now. I need to keep busy.
“What’s going on? You’ve been on edge all week.”
“Nothing. I’m just nervous about my baby sister traveling thousands of miles in a flying tin can, that’s all.”
“You know I have more chance of being kicked to death by a donkey than dying in a plane crash, right?”
I look at her in horror. “Holy shit. What? Is there some sort of evil donkey cartel going around killing people? Where did this information come from? Do they have Mafioso donkeys in France?”
“Eden!” She laughs and squeezes my shoulders. “I’m going to be fine, both on the plane and around random donkeys. Stop panicking.”
I sit on the bed and drop my head into my hands. Honestly, I’m also on edge about Max. We haven’t spoken since Tuesday. It’s now Friday morning and still no contact. We supposedly have a date tonight, but I know nothing about it. Where, what time, how I’m supposed to dress. I mean, sure, I have that whole ‘pants and bra are optional’ directive, but that’s it.
I grab my phone and dial the movie information line again, just to make sure there’s no reason he can’t get through.
Nope. Everything’s working.
Then why hasn’t he called?
If I weren’t so badass, and he wasn’t completely off the grid, I’d be stalking every piece of his social media right about now to find out what the hell’s going on.
Asha clips shut the Ziploc bag containing her toiletries and gives me the side-eye. “You know, I can’t help noticing you haven’t seen Max this week. What’s up with that?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Uh huh. Because to someone who knows you, it seems as though you might actually miss him.”
I roll my eyes multiple times before checking the time. “Wow. Would you look at that? Your car will be here soon. Better get that case shut.”
She gives me a knowing look before pressing her last few items into the overflowing suitcase and gesturing for me to push it down, so she can zip it. “Have it your way, but I hope you realize that denial isn’t healthy. He likes you, and you like him. Story or not, you two have issues to sort out.”
Her phone buzzes with an alert at almost the same time mine does. She checks her screen. “Ten minutes.”
I check mine and get a vicious flutter in my belly when I see it’s a text from Max.
<You have mail.>
I tap into my email app so fast I almost drop the phone, and sure enough, there it is. A fresh, shiny email.
I click it open.
From: Maxwell Riley <[email protected]>
To: Eden Tate <[email protected]>
Subject: Behavioral Guidelines
Date: Friday May 12
Dear Miss Tate,
I apologize for not contacting you sooner. Something came up unexpectedly, and I’ve been indisposed for most of the week. I hope your back has recovered and that you’re feeling well.
Regarding tonight’s date, please read the following guidelines and let me know by reply email if you have any questions.
First, I’m confirming that this is an immersive date, in which you will step out of your own personality and into someone else’s. Your character description, along with mine, is detailed below. Read it carefully. Understand it. Live it. For this to be a success, you will genuinely have to try to be someone else for the night. I have faith that you can do it.
Character: Eden Crane, a top-notch New York journalist with a thirst for the truth. (Very much like yourself.)
Personality: Open-minded. Unguarded. Craves intimacy and intense connections. (Totally unlike yourself. These traits are your Everest, Miss Tate. Embrace them.)
Setting: Black-tie charity event