Page 44 of The Sweet Spot

“Yes,” I said sheepishly.

We were sitting on her sofa in her living room, the game on in the background. She shimmied closer to me, and when I turned to her, she clasped my face in her hands.

“The guy likes you. Do I need to repeat that? Brandon Warde likes you.”

I blinked several times, taking that in. “He’s killing time.”

“No. He likes you. He wants to be in your pants. He thinks you’re amazing. He’s also mostly normal. All good things.”

“But—”

“Zip it! Full stop. The guy has a thing for you. Stop making excuses for why he doesn’t. Here is my advice. Let this naturally play out, but if you want this, then you need to let him know it. I’m not suggesting to jump him next time you see him, but at least give him a sign. But I do have to ask: is this what you want?”

“I have no idea. I think so.”

Jill nodded slowly, picking up her glass again. “You need tothink about that because he is your boss. Things could get complicated if it doesn’t work out, although Brandon doesn’t seem like the type of guy to make an issue of it.”

“Should I tell Tangi?”

Jill tapped a finger on the side of her glass as she pondered that. “I don’t know. Up to you. I don’t like the way she’s been acting about this, so I don’t blame you for not telling her first, or telling us in a group text. I think I’m about to sound like you, but I want you both to work this out. Some guy is not worth putting a wrench in a friendship over.”

She’d given me so much to think about. So much so that I’d barely slept that night, my brain a whirl of thoughts and consequences. Of course, I wanted something with Brandon, but I also didn’t want to jeopardize what I had with job security. Did I want to tell Tangi everything? Of course, but I didn’t want any negativity to impact any decision I made. So much to think about.

When my alarm went off, I was already awake. I slapped at my phone to turn it off, then pulled myself out of bed. How was I going to get through the day with a few hours of sleep? And secondhand shopping. And facing Brandon. Ugh.

I showered and got changed, making it to Brandon’s before seven o’clock. He was asleep, which wasn’t unusual postgame day. By the time he got home, ate, and came off the high—or low—of the game, it was usually between midnight and one o’clock in the morning. His extra hour or two of sleep gave me some extra time, and I used it to down a few cups of coffee.

On the menu this morning were protein pancakes, avocado toast, and some Greek yogurt and fruit. Ryan would be having the same, although I know he snuck pork bacon in there, which was beyond my control and totally up to him. I started on Ryan’s breakfast first because Delia came to pick it up around eight thirty. I met her outside the building with Ryan’s coolerbag of food, including some midmorning snacks, and headed back upstairs. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I almost ran into Brandon in the kitchen. That was what I got for not paying attention.

“Hey,” I said way too cheerfully.

“Good morning,” he said in his usual tone.

“Tough game last night,” I said in some strange falsetto.

“It sucks when we lose two games in a row,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I changed the subject. “Breakfast should be ready in about ten minutes.”

“No rush,” he said, sitting at the island with his phone. He liked to read the news for a bit, which I liked to avoid, especially in the morning. Who wanted to be depressed with so much sad information? I guess Brandon and millions of other people.

While he read, seemingly oblivious that I was even there, I prepped breakfast. The plan for today had been for me to get Delia in after her morning delivery rush to make lunch for Ryan and Brandon and then prep dinner. I told her I wouldn’t need her for the afternoon other than to pick up Ryan’s dinner and late-night meal. That was supposed to give me and Brandon time to hang out and secondhand shop, but now I had no idea if that was still happening. I had no idea what was happening with anything, and before I could stop myself, I started talking.

“The kiss. Did it mean something?”

He stopped reading on his phone, slowly put it down, and looked up at me. His blue eyes had me melting where I was standing. He had no expression on his face, and I suddenly wanted to run away as fast as possible and never come back. I was beyond mortified. But that didn’t stop me from continuing.

“I get it. I was excited, and you probably didn’t mean it. Itwas the whole spur-of-the-moment. Forget I even brought it up. Am I fired?”

He tilted his head in confusion for just a second, then righted himself. “I meant it.”

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t move. I wanted to be sick, and the coffee sitting in my empty stomach was suddenly like burning acid. “I don’t understand. Then why are you acting so weird right now?”

“I’m not acting weird.”

His expression didn’t change, and I was more confused than ever.

“But you are. You don’t kiss someone and then nothing.”

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