"Oh, no," I whisper. What's wrong with me? How did I get here? Am I so touch-starved that I let my high school ex hit it on the conference table? I'm nearly thirty-two; these kinds of shenanigans should bewellbehind me. This is absurd. I'm absurd. But why the hell is hehere?
"Yep," Dustin says as he reappears and hands me a cup of coffee. "You had a bit of a wild night, B."
"Can we skip the lecture?" I groan and take a long sip. Huh. He remembers how I like my coffee? He added the perfect amount of brown sugar—I can taste the little hint of it along with the oat milk. "I'm sorry."
Dustin sighs and sips from his own cup. "Truce?"
"Truce." I can't help but sneak a peek at him. His chestnut hair is pushed up on one side, probably from where he slept on the floor. The lace from the pillow cover left pink imprints on his cheek.
"We still have to work together," he begins slowly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. "And, um, we got the tension out of our systems."
"That we did," I agree.
"And… I'm sorry." He slurps another gulp of his coffee. "For stealing your stupid cupcake."
"Thanks."
A tense silence falls between us. How did he get here? Why did he come here? What did I do? What did Isay?
"Um—" I start, but he raises a hand.
"Nothing happened, uh, after the office. You and your friend called me around… oh, I don't know, sometime after midnight? I was asleep. Your friend—Janine—informed me that you're the best dancer on the face of the planet and that I had to come see." A smile flits across his face, but he quickly schools himself into a neutral expression. "You both sounded, um, pretty far gone. And I was going to fall back asleep and pretend it never happened, but you soundedreallyout of it. And I got a little worried."
Jesus.I slap a hand to my eyes and groan loudly. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't. You obviously had a handle on everything. Do you… drink this much very often?"
"No!" I quickly eject. "No. Like, quarterly. Maybe. If I've had a rough week at work. I was just mad—because of your after-hours meeting, honestly. And then confused because of how the, uh, meeting turned out."
"That's my fault," he grunts. "I'm sorry. Really."
"Apology accepted." I quickly chug the rest of my coffee and lumber to my feet to pour another cup. A stabbing pain slices behind my eyes, and I wince. Maybe I can double-fist coffee and water. Oh, or ibuprofen—I know Janine has abottle somewhere.
"Hey, Brooke?" Dustin calls from the couch. "It's really nice to see you again."
I nearly drop my coffee mug into Janine's sink. Is he serious?Nice?We've been at each other's throats the whole time he's been here. And it's only been three days.
"Uh—you, too."
Dustin
It'sreallynicetosee you again? Am I stupid? She's mortified—rightly so, but so am I. She didn't need rescuing. She's a grown woman. I briefly entertain the thought that maybe the reason I came over had more to do with wanting to see her than rescue her. Shaking my head, I shoot that thought down and bury it six feet deep. No way.
So then, why am I still hanging around here? Sleeping on the floor was a god-awful decision. The lacy throw pillow didnothave good neck support. And the hardwood floors have my back in knots. I really, really should not have come here. But at the same time, itisnice to see her when she's not actively trying to piss me off.
It's been such a long time. And her green wavy hair is so much moreherthan the natural sandy-brown. I knew back in the day she was meant for greater things than small-town Michigan. Hell, so am I. That's why I moved to Chicago and only look back every fewmonths to touch base with Mom and Dad. But seeing her like this, living on her own in New York City?
It's what she's meant for. And god, it fits her. Regrettably, that's a hell of a turn-on.
"Well, I better get goin'," I announce, slapping my knees. Better to leave on my own terms before I make another not-mistake. Like she said, it wasn't a mistake, it wasgetting tension out of our systems. And tension is starting to build up in mine.
"That's probably for the best," she says with a nod. "And sorry for… telling Janine about our, uh, meeting. It won't happen again. I just had to get it off my chest, you know?"
"I do," I reply, trying very hard not to think about her chest. "I haven't told anyone—shit. Uh, Alicia knows, though."
"WHAT?" Brooke shrieks and claps a hand over her mouth. "What? Oh my god, how?"
"I don't know! She just… does! She told me to keep my pants on; I told her I would; she saidoh Dusty, you didn't, and I told her nothing happened!"
