“What’s funny?” I ask.
Margo looks up at me and I see that she’s grinning.
“Anna Calvi. I told you about her.”
“Did you?” I say, pretending I don’t remember.
“Yeah. Like… years ago, back at college, when you asked me what I was playing on my iPod speakers in the common room.”
I pretend to think about it. “Oh yeah. That sounds familiar.”
Margo breaks eye contact and settles her head back again on my chest.
“It’s funny…” she says, after a while.
“What is?”
“I figured you were just saying that you’d check her out. You know…the way people do.”
I think for a long time about what she said, a whole verse and chorus. A thought I can’t ignore pressing itself into me, an impulse I can’t ignore. Until I say, “I always trusted you.”
She’s quiet for a moment and then sighs. “Shit…Owen…what the hell are we doing?”
“We’re having fun.”
“No…” Margo says, suddenly pulling away, sliding off the couch and straightening up her dress as she goes to her handbag.
“Where are you going?” I ask, getting off the couch too.
“I…I can’t do this. I’m kinda freaking out now.”
“Wait,” I say, grabbing her arm gently before she moves out of reach. “What’s the matter?”
Margo sighs, glancing up for a split second. “Do I really need to list all the reasons this is a bad idea, Owen? Our friendship, the fact that we work together, the vlog series, your commitmentphobia…the list goes on.”
“Don’t overthink this,” I tell her soothingly. I rest my hands lightly on her shoulders and she falls against me, melting under my touch as I nestle my lips beside her ear. “Nobody needs to know,” I add, moving my hand up to cup her breast, feeling the tension in her body release. “We’re just having fun, Margo. Just enjoying ourselves.”
Margo gasps when I bring my teeth to her earlobe, press her nipple between my fingers.
“Until it goes wrong,” she manages to say, in between fluttering breaths.
“So tell me to stop,” I say, blowing gently against the soft skin of her neck. “Just say the word and I give you my word, I’ll stop.”
I bring a hand to her back, tugging at the zipper of her dress, knowing with every fiber of my body that she wants it by the way she pulls her hair over her shoulder and then turns around to help me undress her.
The next morning I’m late to work—which isn’t suspicious, though Margo is going to be even later, which definitely would be suspicious were it not for the fact that she told everyone she was ditching her date last night because she felt sick. I guess we’re gonna have to think about these kinds of things now that we’ve opened up a whole new element of our friendship.
On the one hand, it won’t be hard, since we talk to each other at work all the time anyway. On the other hand, I’m supposed to resist the urge to fuck Margo in any cloistered corner of the offices—which is going to drive me crazy. One step at a time, though.
Except the secret’s out, I think, when Brad stops me on the way to my desk by saying, “Now there’s a guy who definitely got laid last night! Hah!”
I stop and turn to him, sitting at his own desk, his computer screen showing a webpage of sex tips. Before I can say anything Brad says, “There it is! I knew it!”
I frown at him as if confused. Either Brad knows something he shouldn’t, or he’s fishing for it. Either way, I decide the best thing to do is play dumb. Considering he’s already spying on Margo, though, there’s a part of me that’s almost ready to put a fist in his mouth and stop him from saying anything more.
“What do you mean?” I say, still wearing my best confused mask.
Brad shrugs humbly.
“Dude, I know we have our little…tete a tetes, but I got to admit,” he says, giving me the Robert De Niro finger waggle. “You’ve got game. I didn’t think you’d actually do it, but you did it.”
He holds out his hand for a high-five, and I suddenly understand Sophie’s Choice better than ever before. Either I high-five the sleaziest guy I’ve ever met, or I risk him blowing open my relationship with Margo before it’s even begun. If he hasn’t done that already.
I high-five him.
“Damn!” he cries, the high-five all the confirmation he needs. “I knew it!”
“Hey, listen, do me a favor, ok? Keep it down,” I say.
“Oh,” Brad says, nodding and looking around to check if anyone heard. “Sure…but damn, dude. She was hot. Unbelievable.”
That’s when I realize: he’s not talking about Margo. Relief floods through me, but then a new problem rears its ugly head—if Brad thinks I went home with the Amazonian and then finds out I left the date early, I’ll need a cover story fast. “You mean my date?”
“Yeah!”
“Didn’t you hear? I left it early.”
Brad’s face drops a full two inches, the smile obliterated. “What? I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t take her home. She was…not my type.”
“Not your type? Dude, that girl is everyone’s type! So wait—if you didn’t go home with her…then who—”
“I called this other girl I know. A redhead who sucks dick like a vacuum cleaner and loves taking it doggystyle,” I say, disgusted with myself for talking Brad’s language, but relieved to be finally misdirecting him from the truth. “Yeah…you know, that chick on the date was hot—but the hottest ones never get that wild. Everyone knows that.”
Brad laughs and punches my arm like we’re in the gym.
“Don’t wanna mess up their hair, right dude?”
“Right.”
“Hey,” Brad says, getting up out of his chair to stand next to me so he can lean in and lower his voice. “So if you and…”
“My date? Stacey?”
“Yeah. If you’re not gonna…you think you could…”
“Give you her number? Sure. I’ll send it over as soon as I get to my desk.”
“Awesome, dude.”
I wink at him and start pulling away, before wondering if I’ve done enough to clean up my tracks. I take two steps toward my desk before turning back to him.
“Hey Brad,” I say, getting his attention. “Wear a nice watch when you meet Stacey, and be a little creative when you talk about your lifestyle. She likes the good things in life, if you know what I mean.”
Brad’s face twists itself up like I just asked him to solve a quadratic equation in his head.
“Pretend you have money,” I clarify.
Brad’s big, beaming smile returns and we point fingers at each to express how much we understand each other. I turn back to my desk and a shiver rolls down my spine at what I just did, but if that’s what it takes to keep me and Margo a secret, then that’s what I’ll do. Besides, there’s no chance of Stacey actually going out with Brad. Not after the warning text I’m about to send her.
14
Margo