Page 11 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Fix my face?” I repeat, utterly confused. “What does that-?”

“Like this.” Miles drops his expression, softens his eyes, raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit, and looks to his right, toward the window.

I start to wonder why he’s so good at this and then I realize it’s his fucking job. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Ok.”

I try.

I think I do better.

Clearly, I don’t.

“Ok, ok. Let’s try…” Miles looks around but doesn’t seem to come up with anything. “Maybe weshouldwait until you can dress a little nicer.”

“That makes me feel great.”

“Shut up. Women are gonna flock to you with or without clothes.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and lowers his phone to begin searching or typing. It’s hard to tell while his thumbs move quickly. “Let me send you the name of this girl I worked with last year. She works part-time on adult sets, but her main career is styling B- and C-list celebs. Trust me, she’ll deck you out.”

“Oh god, are you sure?” I hate being the center of attention. Trying on clothes with some woman I don’t know might break me.

“I’ll come with,” Miles assures me, glancing up to send a supportive smile my way. He taps his thumb once more with finality and I hear my phone chime in my office. “That’s her contact info. I texted her to let her know you’d be reaching out. See if she’s free Friday. I’m working tomorrow.”

My lips form a tight line, but I nod.

“You’ll thank me. I swear.” He taps his phone a few more times and my phone chimes again. “I just sent you the pictures I took. I know they’re not great, but please just post one for now.”

“Why not just wait?” I ask.

“No one is going to interact with a profile that doesn’t have a single picture,” he shoots back.

I raise my hands in surrender and stand from the couch.

“Am I dismissed?”

“I want you sending three messages a day. Iwillbe checking your work.”

“Homework. Great.Nowam I dismissed?”

“Fine.” Miles rolls his eyes. “But call her. Moira is rad. You’ll like her.”

“Is this a setup?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not her type.” Miles waves his hand, dismissing me. When I continue to stare at him, he adds “You have a dick.”

“Got it.”

“Go. Shoo. Back to your cave.” Miles tries to wave me out of the living room of my own house, but I grin and smile before turning away. “Postonepicture and actually try to connect with someone!” he shouts after me.

I disappear into my office and close the door, leaning my back against it. I take a deep breath. And another. And another.

I’m going to kill him.

Hasn’t he known me long enough to know what I can and can’t do? Like… socially? I’ve tried going on dates, I’ve tried flirting. I suck at it all. Miles knows it just as well as I do and yet he’s pushing me into this. I owe him, though, having practically begged him to move in with me five years ago.

I needed him here. I couldn’t live alone anymore. I was too fucking depressed. I needed someone to pull me out of my room and make me feel human. Make me touch grass now and then.

Pushing myself off of the door, I walk back to my desk. I don’t have set hours. I have projects I complete, client discussions, information to share, code to revisit when people fuck up. I can work whenever the hell I want as long as the work gets done, but I still try to keep normal business hours.

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