Page 71 of We Met Like This
“I talked to them yesterday. I don’t think they quite understand exactly what I’m doing because they kept saying that they were so happy Mr. Bishop gave me this opportunity. Once I have my website up and running, I’ll give them the link. That will help.”
“When did Oliver say he’d help you with the website?”
“Friday night.”
I pulled up my phone to review our exchanged texts over the last several days to double-check that I was right.
Me:Hey, Website Designer, when should we do this? Considering how much I’m paying you for this service, I have a very long list of demands.
Oliver:Demanding clients are my favorite. Friday night?
Me:You don’t have a hot date?
Oliver:If you’re calling it a date, then yes, I do.
Me:I’m calling it a business transaction.
Oliver:Then I have a hot business transaction.
“Oh my gaaaawwwd,” Sloane groaned, pulling me out of my phone. “Good luck keeping horny Margot at bay.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“The look on your face right now while you’re reading texts from Oliver. Good. Luck. Keeping. Horny. Margot. At. Bay.”
I pointed to my face. “This isn’t horny Margot. This ismildly amused Margot. Horny Margot has been suppressed, replaced by getting-shit-done Margot.”
“If you say so.”
“Me and my self-control will be perfectly fine.”
I have self-control, I told myself as I walked the path to Oliver’s front door Friday evening. More than a moderate amount. I didn’t slap Rob in the parking lot, after all. That had to count for something.
But when Oliver answered the door with wet hair, my mind immediately pictured him in the shower even though he was fully clothed, and that didn’t help at all. Tonight was about my agency, my future. I could not lose sight of that.
“Hi,” he said, holding the door open for me. Then his hand went to his face, wiping at his chin and cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re staring at me with an alarmed expression.”
“Sorry, no. I’m just overwhelmed. It’s been a long few days.”
“Sorry your life hasn’t instantly solved all its problems.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Come in.”
I stepped forward and we came together in an awkward half hug, half cheek kiss. I’d never kissed a friend’s cheek in my life; I wasn’t sure why that was my instinct. As if I’d suddenly become European. “I finally get to see inside.”
“Oh, right. The farthest you got last time was the driveway.”
“It was a good driveway.” Averygood driveway.
He smiled.
I took in his living room, where I now stood. It smelled like him but also like sandalwood or leather or something. It smelled good, like I wanted to sink onto the oversized brown couch and wrap myself up in the throw that was draped over the arm of it. “I thought maybe you lived with your parents last time I was here. Nobody I knew lived in an actual house at the time.”
