Page 4 of Just Between Us

I don’t miss the connotation, and it makes me grip my chopsticks tightly. James launches into a tirade about exclusive restaurants being ruined by social media, but I’m not listening, enjoying my curry instead and letting my mind wander slightly.

“So,” he says after another tirade about banking bonuses that I grunt and hum at because I have no patience to explain socioeconomic inequality to someone who hangs out with actual nobility. “Where are you from, Kai?”

I gaze at him stupidly because I know what he’s asking, and I won’t entertain it. He has the decency to look embarrassed because he quickly rushes out, “I just mean where did you grow up?”

I relax a little, but the damage is done, and he knows it too.

“Barking.”

“Nice,” James says nodding, “I think my dealer is from there.”

And that’s it. I tune out for the rest of the date, already mapping my route back home in my head.

Chapter Two: Kai

“Twenty pounds Nel passes out in the bathroom tonight,” Marie says gazing at Nelson from finance as he knocks back a shot of what looks like sambuca before sipping on champagne.

I cringe at the mixture.

Marie is much better, her dark skin now full of colour, her lips painted a deep shade of red. Her hand slides into Jenna’s as my best friend looks down at her adoringly before sneaking a kiss at the corner of her lips—avoiding the lipstick expertly.

“Too easy,” Connor says. “He is obviously passing out before the night ends. The better wager would have been if he doesn’t pass out.”

This would be the third year running for Nel, but luckily for him and probably everyone else, he doesn’t get handsy or say anything inappropriate. The man just loves a good drink, but he remains on his best behaviour before passing out quietly in a corner. It’s almost admirable.

“Well, I guess we should try to catch up to him,” Marie says, handing us each a shot of top-shelf tequila from the bar.

“Cheers!” Connor shouts and we all knock back a shot each.

Around us, the Peninsula Hotel’s ballroom has filled up with almost two hundred people for A-EYE’s annual Christmas party. Gold, silver and green Christmas decorations are expertly spread through the room, fairy lights twinkling around, and an imposing tree with fake presents in the corner.

I spot a few familiar faces. Erica, our manager, is speaking to Dave who works in software engineering. I also spot Nicholas Armas, Cole’s older brother. He’s the senior VP at A-EYE and he basically runs the company for his father. I’ve never met him personally, but he does share some similarities with his younger brother. They have the same green eyes and dark hair but if Nicholas is handsome then Cole is otherworldly.

I hate that my brain is veering itself towards Cole Armas, so I look back at my friends, trying to catch up with the conversation about our co-workers.

Dinner is served and the entire ballroom falls silent, too immersed in the food to speak. Only the quiet jazzy music from the D.J. sounds through the room as I try not to inhale the tender lamb shank on my plate.

By the time dinner is over, it’s like everyone is determined to get carted away in a gurney for being too drunk. Most people start on the champagne and wine at their tables or head straight for the bar. A few people even open up the floor dancing to classic 2000s hits that have people screaming that’s my song.

My stomach sloshes with the food and a glass of champagne. I’ve never been much of a drinker, so I already feel a little too warm and I have to peel off my suit jacket and roll up the sleeves of my shirt.

“Let’s go dance,” Marie says over the music.

“No way, no rhythmic bone is this body, I fear,” Connor says. “You guys have fun.

A current top-ten pop song begins to play and a few people around us shout in excitement as the beat pumps. Someone waves their jacket from their table.

“I’ll hang back with Connor,” Jenna says. “I think the champagne is going to my head.”

I open my mouth to protest but Marie is already pulling me to the onyx marble. Several people are slut dropping on the dancefloor, one of them being Mina from H.R. but the executives will be disappearing soon and it’s early in the night, no one will remember this part anyway.

By the end of two songs, I’m winded and head to the bar, leaving Marie behind. It’s nearly empty, most people mingle around, drinking or flirting with the office crushes they haven’t gotten the guts to speak to all year.

“What can I get you, mate?” the bartender with silver piercings running down his ears asks.

“Just some water, please,” I say.

He looks at me for a second, clearly waiting for me to order another drink. I just smile and he shrugs, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and placing it in front of me.

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