I lock the door behind him, my hand trembling a little on the metal mechanism. Then I go into the bathroom and wriggle out of my yoga pants. My panties are all sticky, which should make me grossed out, right?
But as I peel them down, I can’t help but wish he’d made them stickier …
I shake my head firmly, dropping my pants in the hamper and walking bottomless into the bedroom to get a new pair. I pull on fresh panties, yoga pants, and put on my sneakers again.
Afterward, I take a deep breath.
That was part of the plan.
Now that we’ve done that, he’s even more likely to get obsessed with me, which will make dumping his ass just that much more fun.
Yeah, a voice whispers in my head.Keep telling yourself that.
I ignore it and head outside, grabbing a quick energy bar from the vending machine. The wrapping is hot pink and I can’t tear it open quickly enough, hungry for the nutty and chocolatey goodness inside.
I walk down the short hallway and out into the sun, shielding the brightness with my hand.
As I make my way toward the track, I can’t help but stare at the climbing wall … the climbing wall which wasnotthere yesterday. It’s a tall self-standing contraption with green, red, and purple handholds dotted up and down it. It must be at least thirty feet.
“Excuse me, Grace?” somebody says.
I jump, snapping my gaze around.
I didn’t even hear anybody approach.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh when I see that it’s Adam, Harry’s receptionist. I’ve seen him around every so often. The red-haired, freckly man always has a smile on his face, even if he does seem a bit jittery at times, like he’s slammed too many double espressos.
“Yeah?” I say, stopping and facing him.
“I just wanted to say … I don’t want to get involved, you know, in stuff that ain’t my business.” His accent is almost like Harry’s, but a little different. I wonder if he’s Welsh or Scottish.
“Okay?” I mutter, confused. I’ve never even spoken to this man except to say hi and now here he is getting all conspiratorial. “Is something wrong?”
He glances toward the climbing wall, where my fellow camp-goers are now congregating. Harry stands next to the wall, his hands on his hips.
“Did I see you… talking to Harry earlier?” Adam says after a long pause of breathing and jittering.
He smiles awkwardly, looking me up and down like a nervous teen trying to ask his would-be sweetheart to the prom.
Does he have a crush on me or something?
I never normally think stuff like that. I don’t want to seem like Miss Arrogant or anything like that. But this is just downright bizarre. I also don’t really want to discuss my “conversations” with Harry with him.
“Yeah,” I say finally, “we’ve talked.”
He looks down at his feet, then back up at me, swallowing audibly. “You shouldn’t get too close to him,” he says, so low I almost don’t hear it.
“Why not?” I ask warily.
“Because he’s not good to women,” Adam says, and it sounds rushed, like he’s trying to say the words before he chickens out. Then his courage seems to build and, after a quick glance around, he starts talking again. “The way he treats them … it’s all lovey-dovey to begin with. That’s his method. That’s hisscheme. He gets women to think he’s not an asshole and then—Boom! He hits them like a ton of bricks. Trust me. I know.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Howdo you know? What exactly are we talking about here?”
He presses his hands together, his throat shimmering like there’s a small creature in there trying to escape. He’s obviously losing his nerve again. “I’ve said too much already,” he huffs. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Before I can even reply, he spins on his heel, ducks his head, and starts pacing toward the office building. He takes long strides and opens and closes his hands, as if he can’t quite decide what to do with them.
Okay … so that was weird.
