Page 71 of Call Me Sir

“Did you hear that Ace and Oliver are engaged?!” Tony asks.

“Yes!” Rumi squeals. “That wedding is gonna be the bomb!”

Once they’re done doing little excitement dances, I add, “If you have anyone else in mind to speak at the event, let me know. There’s so many other people we need to give a voice to as well. Maybe a few smaller LGBTQ+ individuals.”

“I think we need an asexual and aromantic speaker as well,” Rumi says with a smile.

I nod. “Totally.”

“This is gonna be so cool,” Kahlid says, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it without looking at us again.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else,” Tony says, wiggling in his seat.

“Maybe we could let our clients know we’re busy and have them temporarily given to other employees?” Rumi offers.

“That’s a great idea. I can run it by the boss,” I offer absentmindedly.

“Doesn’t he hate you?” Rumi asks, her soft, friendly features crinkled in confusion.

Oh yeah. I guess everyone is aware that he hated me, I forget it wasn’t just my imagination. And now… well now I don’t know what he thinks of me.

“Ummm, yeah, you’re right. Maybe one of you should ask.”

We wrap up our initial plans and I shuffle to my desk trying to focus on the monumental task at hand when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Sal: Can we pick out what we’re wearing to dinner tomorrow night?

Huh? What is he talking about?

Realization dawns on me and I drop my phone, catching it with my foot.

I reread the text several times before typing out an answer.

Me: Of course

I’m going to dinner with Sal and his dad, Samuel Hammond.

Sal: I’ll be over at 6 pm.

My thumbs dance in the air above the keyboard trying to decide if I should text what I want. Or if I should just be cordial.

Fuck it. I deserve time with him before I pretend to be his date.

Me: I’ll make dinner for us.

A full minute passes before I get a response.

Sal: I appreciate you

I’m not sure how to process this, but it makes my brain buzz like a shaken pop can.

Instead of digging into how to contact Oliver Davis, I spend the next few hours trying to google what the dress code is to hang out with a million-billionaire. Cause it’s certainly not joggers and a tee.

Twenty Three

Sal

Tapping the door lightly, I tug at the collar of my dress shirt and wonder what the hell I’m doing here outside of Cole’s place.

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