Page 87 of Positively Pricked
I knew why. She was listening to every word, even if she was still making a point not to look.
It was long past time to end this. I looked back to the professor and said, "No."
His eyebrows furrowed. "No what?"
"No to lunch and whatever else you're thinking."
"What do you mean?" He had the nerve to look offended. "I'm just here as a friend."
Call me skeptical. After all, no one needed "an understanding" to have lunch with a friend.
I looked to the flowers. He'd claimed they were an office-warming present. But they didn'tlooklike an office-warming present.
They were a lush, romantic shade of red, including the vase. It's not that I didn't like the color. I loved it, in fact. But I wasn't stupid. This wasn't the kind of arrangement you bought for a friend –orthe roommate of the girl you'd been banging on the side.
No. Those were fuck-me flowers.
For some reason, I thought of that stupid red shoe, the one I'd tripped over in Zane's office. I hated that shoe. I hated the flowers. And I especially hated the fact that a byproduct of Paisley's poor judgement had infested my workplace.
I gave the professor a no-nonsense look. "I think you should go."
His mouth tightened. "But what about lunch?"
"I already ate."
He was frowning now. "Then why didn't you say so?"
"I did. Just now."
He looked to the flowers. "But what about those?"
They felt like poison in my hands, and I wanted to fling the whole arrangement right in his face. But I didn't, because the last thing I needed now was a scene at work.
So instead, I asked, "Do you want them back?"
He was still frowning. "What wouldIdo with them?"
You could shove them up your ass, that's what.
But I couldn’t say it, not here. So instead, I gave him a thin smile and suggested, "You could give them to Paisley. Or to your wife."
He stiffened. "Ex-wife."
"Oh, please," I said. "You're separated, and just barely. And what about Paisley?"
"What about her?" he asked.
"Issheyour ex, too?"
He sighed. "Can I be frank?"
"No," I said. "Definitely not."
Ignoring me, he confessed, "She's a bit of a drama-queen, if you know what I mean."
"Really?" My tone grew sarcastic. "I hadnoidea."
He nodded. "Oh, but she is."
