Page 10 of Accidentally Joining His Cult
If he hadn’t already admitted to his lack of knowledge, I might have believed him. Instead, I crack up laughing at his serious expression and take a sip of my drink.
“Is a drink supposed to make you more thirsty?” I ask him skeptically. “I swear that my mouth grows drier with each sip.” His poker face finally breaks as he joins in on my laughter.
“That’s how they get you to buy more, I guess.” He shrugs and smirks at me. “This is fun. I’m glad you agreed to go out with me tonight.”
I smile back at him. “Me too.”
“So, you got to hear my trauma dump today,” he prompts, and I chuckle at his description of the workshop. “Tell me more about you.”
“Well, I’m originally from California, but now I live in Montana when I’m not traveling for work.”
“Why Montana, were you sick of being around other people? Was it too convenient to go to any store you could imagine?” he questions with a furrowed brow, and I chuckle.
“Why does everyone hate on Montana so much?” I tease. “It's gorgeous.”
“It always sounded like the middle of nowhere to me. I’ve never been, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Or you could visit.” I’d love to show him around my city, or do some hiking around the mountains.
“Maybe I’ll have a reason to now,” he replies, and I smile at the idea of him visiting me.
“It’s also where Kyla’s headquarters are,” I continue. “I went to school back in Cali, and I lived there for a bit after I graduated when I started as a local coach. Then I was promoted, so I got to move to Montana,” I explain.
“So, what’s your job title now?”
“I’m technically the VP of Recruitment and Retention for the company.” His eyes widen a bit, so I rush to reassure him. “But it sounds fancier than it is, apparently, I have the highest recruiting numbers, like I get the most new people signed up for our programs.” I think I’m rambling now, but I can’t stop.
“I also have the highest retention rates for the coaches I train remaining with the company. I don’t feel like I do anything special compared to the other amazing coaches. I just live my life and tell people how great the programs are, they’re usually interested in the idea of improving their lives. It’s not a difficult concept,” I explain.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to look so surprised. We haven’t even gotten our food yet, and I’ve already offended you.” His cheeks darken, and it’s fascinating to see this confident man look embarrassed.
I laugh. “You didn’t offend me, I promise. Even though my title puts me in the executive management team, my favorite days will always be the ones like today—running workshops and meeting new people. I do spend some time at our headquarters, but I also spend a good amount of time traveling to host the programs.” I try to give him a genuine smile to show that I’m having a great time. His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there.
“You have my new favorite smile,” he says softly.
My cheeks heat, and I look back at my wine. “Thanks,” I mumble.
The smile feels glued to my face, even as I feel my blush growing.
Must be the wine.
Not sure why else I’d suddenly feel so shy around Beck. That was a nice thing to say. He’s a nice guy. No reason for me to be weird about it.
Luckily, our food arrives and interrupts my awkwardness. My grilled chicken and salad are both spectacular. The plating was also super fancy, and my friends all loved the picture I had to send to our group chat.
I’m having a great time, but still, there’s something about Beck that makes me feel self-conscious.
Usually, I have no trouble talking with people I don’t know well. I travel a lot, and I’m used to meeting people and spending time with them without there being this tension.
It’s not a bad tension, though. It’s actually kind of exciting and makes my heart race. I really want his approval, which sounds silly, even to me. It’s almost like I’m the new kid at school again, and I want the popular boy to accept me.
My past doesn’t define my future.If I want to be friends with Beck, I should be his friend. I don’t have to be in my head about it. Besides, hewas the one who suggested we hang out in the first place, no need for me to worry about his opinion of me.
As we continue to eat, I try to shake off whatever has me so in my head about him. “So, what do you do for work, Beck?”
He pauses with the fork raised halfway to his mouth, which twists into a grin. “Wait, you don’t know who I am?” He sounds amused, like he doesn’t believe me.
Someone’s cocky.
