Page 51 of The Lair

I don’t imagine the deep sigh he lets out. “I’m not making friendship bracelets with you, Allie.”

The way I’m keeping this smile in place is probably breaking a world record or two.Longer-lasting smile while your grumpy boss, who you have a massive crush on, breaks your heart.

“Well, I’m not tired anymore, and you don’t want to take a quick nap, so there’s little else for us to do except look at the wall for the next five hours.” I keep my voice light, hoping he doesn’t notice the crack currently happening behind my rib cage. “There’s nothing on TV, and I don’t have cable, so unless you want to die of boredom…” I nudge the bracelet kit in hisdirection. “Come on, you’ll make mine, and I’ll make yours. We’ll stop if you hate it. Pinky promise.”

If my gut feeling is correct, Travis isn’t going to pinky promise me anything anytime soon. He hasn’t moved an inch from his spot, his back against the cushions.

“I’ll pass.”

Sure. No biggie. My heart isn’t in shambles or anything.

“Okay.” I try to keep my voice cheerful and unaffected, but this time I don’t think I’m successful. I’m careful as I scoop up the beads I selected for him. “But I’m still making yours.”

When he doesn’t reply, I get to work. Grabbing the elastic cord, I tell him, “I need to measure your wrist.”

He doesn’t say a word as he holds out his wrist for me over the coffee table. And I don’t focus on how thick his tanned wrist looks, or how many dark little hairs are on his arms, or how stupidly big his hand is compared to mine. Not one bit.

“Thanks,” I mutter when I’m done, telling myself I can survive until the sun rises and Travis goes home.

I’m halfway done with the bracelet when he lets out a heavy sigh and sits forward, those stupidly hot forearms resting on his knees. His eyes are on me as he says, “Pass me that elastic cord stuff.”

I don’t say anything as I give it to him, unsure if he’s really changed his mind or is just testing the waters. Instead, I tell myself I won’t get upset for a second time if he decides this is bullshit.

“What colors do you want for yours?” he asks.

His eyes are on the beads and not on my face as I say, “Pink and white.”

He shifts his attention to the elastic. When seconds pass and it becomes clear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, I step in. “Here, let me help you.”

My fingers graze his calloused palms as I take the cord from him. I wrap the elastic around my wrist, then cut it and give it back to him along with some tape.

“You can stick the tape on the end of the cord and fold it over so the beads stay in place. It should make it easier,” I offer, giving him some beads as well. “I’m doing one green, one white, one green, one white. See? But you can do whatever you want.”

Brow furrowed as if this were some kind of science experiment bound to blow up the whole block, my boss stays focused as he picks up a single bead between his thick fingers and stares at it. Just… blankly stares at it with so much intention, I can’t hold in my chuckle.

He slides his eyes toward me. They look almost soft. “You laughing?”

My lips twitch. “No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I nod toward his bracelet. “Off you go, boss man. This can’t be harder than the Navy.”

“Guess not.”

Never in a million years did I think I would be making friendship bracelets with my boss at three in the morning, yet here we are.

I let Travis figure out the whole bracelet-making thing on his own. Beads keep slipping from his grasp, and he curses under his breath every time.

I’ve long finished my bracelet for him, but I don’t want to leave him working alone, so I cut some more elastic bands and decide to make a few bracelets to donate this week.

“Why do you like making bracelets?” he asks out of the blue.

I keep working as I answer, “I’ve always liked arts and crafts, and this is easy enough. It takes my mind off things. I tried knitting once, but I was pathetic at it.”

He hums. “I see.”

Some may think it’s too childish of a hobby for a twenty-five-year-old, but those who judge others aren’t people I want to surround myself with. This makes me happy, and it’s harmless, so who cares?

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