Page 58 of We Met Like This
“Ugh,” I said and scrolled past that mess to see if I’d made any other ones.
The most recent text from Audrey read:Not sure that’s the right call. Let’s talk it out.
Her message was a result of me texting her:I’ve actually decided to start my own agency instead of accept a promotion. How’sthat for directionless and unfocused? This wasn’t even close to the five-year plan. Guess there’s more than one way to be successful.
I cringed.
“Bad?” Oliver asked.
I read it out loud to him.
“Ouch.”
“Just add that one to the list of things I need to fix when my head isn’t pounding.”
“Aside from the pounding head, how are you feeling today about quitting your job?”
“Terrible, free, scared, hopeful, overwhelmed.”
He nodded. “All completely valid. What’s next?”
“You have your own business, right? Any advice?”
“You really are going to start your own agency?” He nodded to my phone, indicating the text I’d sent my sister stating that.
“I’m going to try my hardest.”
“Give yourself grace and at least double the time you think it will take.”
“I have no time at all.”
“Then give yourself ten times that long.”
“Zero times ten is zero.”
He laughed. “I sense patience isn’t your strength.”
“I’ve been waiting years for this.”
“That’s a long time to wait for something,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. Despite what he’d said about not trusting people, his eyes were soft and open and genuine. I wanted to lean closer.
Instead, his phone caught my attention.
It sat between us on the table and the voicemail replayedin my mind like some slow-motion horror sequence. I lunged forward, but as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, he pulled it out of my reach.
“Seriously,” I said, standing. “Will you delete that message?”
He stood as well, turning his back to me. “It’s epic. I don’t want to delete it.”
I stood on the chair he’d just abandoned and tried to reach around him but, because I couldn’t see, just ended up hugging him from behind. With my body pressed against his back, his laughter vibrated against my chest.
He turned to face me and I released him. But because I was still standing on the chair, I lost my balance, teetering backward. He caught me before I fell off, pulling me forward by one hand, causing me to crash into him. He wrapped his arm around my thighs and we both went still as I steadied myself.
His chest was hard against my stomach, and his cheek brushed against my chest. His arm felt firm and comfortable, like it had been wrapped around me many times before. Like I wanted it to be wrapped around me many times in the future. I rested my arms on his shoulders, my whole body relaxing.
“You smell good too,” he said.
My heart increased its speed. “I’m sure I smell like vodka and sweat.”
