"Well, keep your pants on." Alicia laughs, and I sputter.
"Wh—of course I will! What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I stammer into the phone, heart racingagain.
"Oh, Dusty. You didn't."Shit.
"Didn't what?"Shit!How does she do that? She can't even see my face!
"If you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine. But if I can make a suggestion? Don't do it again." She sighs. "I gotta go, bud. Dinner calls. Love you."
"Love you, too," I grumble.
She's right. I really shouldn't. Brooke said we wouldn't.Isaid we wouldn't. So, why does it feel like another tryst is inevitable?
Brooke
Janinestaresatmewith her beautiful brown eyes practically bugging out of her head. She's sitting there, stunned, after I recounted every sordid detail of the conference table's defiling. It's probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in that room, to be honest, but I just feel so guilty. Even though I'm craving it again.
"Sorry, I think I went temporarily deaf. You didwhat?"Janine shrieks.
I cringe. "I… fucked my high school ex-boyfriend on the conference table?"
"Jesus God, Brooke! Go you!" Janine holds her hand up for a high five and I slap her palm, more out of habit than anything.
"I mean, no! Not go me! I can't—we can't do that again. We could both get fired. I could lose everything… again." I spin the wine bottle's twist-off cap and flick it away. There's no need for glasses tonight. Raising the cold bottle to my mouth, I chug down several gulps and grimace at the dry taste. "Ugh. What is this? It's not rosé."
"It's pinot grigio, you bumpkin. It's not supposed to be sweet like your sugar wine." Janine sniffs. "Give it here if you don't want it."
"Sure, fine," I grumble. "Maybe one of your ex-roomies left some white zin behind."
"No need," Janine mumbles as she whips out her phone. Her thumb flies across the screen before she clicks it off again. "Done. Four bottles of your sugar wine will be here in twenty—maybe thirty—minutes."
"God, you're amazing." I laugh and allow myself to settle deeper into Janine's sofa.
"I know I am, love. But seriously, why can't you do it again? Keep it outside of the office. You could, I dunno, go out on the town? End up back at your place? Maybe his?" She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
"Because it'sDustin!I hadn't thought about him in years. And, uh, I kind of dumped him via snail mail letter in college. I was… not nice," I mumble and chew my lower lip.
"Okay… okay. Snail mail letter? Jesus, when did you go to college—the 1800s? Never mind that—he's obviously game, girl. He blew your back out literallytoday." Her phone vibrates, and she checks the screen. "Oh, good. The wine is on the way."
"That's the best news I've heard all day," I grumble. "Gimme the gross wine. I'm too sober for this."
"You're such a child," Janine laughs and hands over the bottle.
"I'm not a child. I just like my drinks to taste good, that's all." I take another hefty swig and wince again. "Oh, how's the roommate search coming along?"
"Could be worse. I'm kind of enjoying the place to myself for now, but that's not sustainable." She sighs. "Even with the rent stabilization, it's too much for one person to afford. I had to ask my aunt for a loan this month."
"Yeesh. I'm sorry, babe. You know I'd move in in a heartbeat if I didn't have to pay a sublet break fee."
"I know."
Janine's door buzzer sounds out, and we both flinch. I shake myself and force a laugh. "Jesus, that's loud. I'll get it."
Three bottles later, I feelgreat. Better than great. I feel fucking awesome. Janine's playlist is the perfect showcase of all the late 90s and early 2000s hits. Have I always been this good of a dancer? It's a fuckingcrimethat people haven't seen this.
It's a crying shame Dustin can't see this.
"Hey!" I spin around and wobble, catching myself on the back of Janine's sofa. "I should callDustin. It's only… what time is it?"
