Page 10 of Cross the Line
So, determined to make the best of things, I clear my throat, wishing I still had a drink in my hand, both to wet my desert-dry mouth and for the liquid courage. ‘So, Willow,’ I begin, internally cringing when my attempt at nonchalance sounds more like disgust. I scrap it, knowing it won’t work. Not with her. ‘How are things?’
Her big brown eyes finally swing up to me, and the grip on her glass loosens slightly. ‘Things are good,’ she answers, her breathy tone stirring something in me that shouldnotbe stirring. ‘You?’
The last thing I want to do is talk about myself, so I redirect the conversation. ‘You just graduated, right? Sorry for not sending a gift. It was the least I could have done.’
‘You’ve been busy,’ she says, waving off my apology. ‘And this trip to Monaco is my gift from Oakley. You can tack your name onto it and call it a day.’
I relax some at her joke and the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her full lips, pleased that while this interaction is definitely strange, we can still find some sense of normality.
I snicker. ‘I’ll happily take credit for someone else’s work.’
She smiles at that, and I can tell she’s just as glad as I am that we’ve found our footing again.
‘Call your boss and ask if you can take an extra week off,’ I go on. ‘Oakley and I can charter a yacht.’
I’m playing around – though maybe not; the yacht does sound like a fun time – but I must have said something wrong, because the smile disappears from her face.
Shit. What did I do this time?
‘No need to make any calls, seeing as I don’t have a job,’ she says, her chin dropping a fraction. ‘I’ve applied for more than I can count, but I’ve heard nothing from most of them. I might have to look outside of sports marketing.’
Great, I’ve made her feel bad about her unsuccessful job search. It’s only been, what, a couple of weeks since she graduated? Not many people are lucky enough to get hired that quickly, anyway. At least I don’t think so. Not that I’ve ever been part of the real working world.
I know I can be a dick, and it’s usually on purpose, but not this time. ‘I’m sure you’ll find something,’ I reassure her, wanting to kick myself. ‘Don’t even worry about it.’
‘Mm, yeah. Right.’
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I follow her fingertips, remembering how she did the same thing right before I—
‘Enough about me,’ she says, interrupting my thoughts before I can be dragged back into the memory. ‘You’ve certainly been making headlines lately. Everything okay?’
It’s my turn to grimace, hating that she’s the latest person to press on the bruise of my reputation. I hate that she even knows about it in the first place. ‘Ah, yeah. Things could definitely be better.’
We’re on equal footing now that we’ve made each other feel like shit, but Willow has always tried to find the lightness in heavy situations, so it’s no surprise that she grins and says, ‘So you’re telling me IYK Quick Resultsisn’tpaying you millions of dollars to promote them? What a scam.’
That drags a laugh out of me, loud and genuine. ‘Upsetting, right? I’ve given them so much publicity that theyshouldbe paying me. And honestly, it’s a great product.’
Her grin remains, but there’s a glimmer of worry in her eyes. ‘You’ve used it before?’
Ah, shit. Now she thinks the STD rumour is true. Am I cursed not to say anything right tonight?
‘I’m just saying in general,’ I rush to reply. Ido notneed the rumour to spread any further, just like a—Nope. Not gonna make the joke. ‘Quick and easy testing could never be a bad thing. The product is good to have on hand, especially in a place like this, where people aren’t as cautious as they should be.’ I hold an arm out, motioning to the crowd around us. It’s full of new money and social climbers. ‘Better safe than that burning sensation when you pee.’
She closes her eyes like she can’t believe what I’ve just said, head shaking almost imperceptibly. ‘Oh . . . my god.’
I shrug. It’s true. Condoms only go so far, and not every use is perfect, so what’s so wrong with being cautious? I’ve always thought STD shaming was shitty anyway, but now that I’m a victim of it without even having one, those feelings are even stronger. Maybe theywouldbe the perfect sponsor.
Willow takes a deep breath and pulls her shoulders back, her eyes settling on me again, this time with a knowing sparkle behind them. It’s been a while since she got a true taste of my sense of humour, but she’s handling it the way she always has – with resignation and a refusal to laugh, no matter how hard it is for her to hold back. She finds me funny. She just won’t admit it.
‘What’s the story behind those posts anyway?’ she asks once she composes herself. ‘Were you hacked?’
I blow out a breath and tug at my bow tie. ‘The gist of it is that my social media manager Jani got sick of my shit, so she quit. And that was her parting gift.’
‘I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen everything. Just snippets that people I follow have shared.’ She smirks, and I try my best to ignore how much I like the sight. ‘You’re kind of a celebrity, I guess.’
‘I am. Thanks for finally noticing.’ I pull out my phone and navigate to my Instagram archive. ‘Andyou’rein for a treat.’
My calloused fingers brush against her pink-painted nails as I pass the device over. She slowly scrolls through, reading the multi-paragraph caption Jani took the time to type up, and I can’t look away. Willow’s expression goes from passive to grimacing in a split second. At least I get to see a glimpse of her dimples when it does.
