Page 13 of Deep In Love
“I’ll protect your plant with my life,” he mocks, his snappy English accent adding to the comment. “And find ways to occupy my time now that you’re ditching me for a fancy boat and unlimited time with your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I grumble, taking a deep swig of my beer.
The words burn like hydrochloric acid.
Oliver squeezes my shoulder. “That could change. Three weeks at sea is a long time.”
“It’s been two years.”
“And you haven’t given up or moved on,” he counters, like it sounds impressive rather than pathetic.
But he’s right.
Two years of flirting with zero reciprocity, and yet, like a fool, I haven’t given up. I’ve harbored the delusion that one day, Charlie will see me as more than her competitor or the guy who annoys her. Half the reason I still live in my world of ignorant bliss is I’ve never seen her with someone else.
Never heard her speak of a boyfriend or date. No photos on her desk. No one dropping by, except for Amy.
“Maybe it’s time you tell her how you feel,” he suggests, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Take the time to get to know each other.”
“I know her.”
“But does she know you?”
I pause long enough for him to know he struck a chord.
“Wow her with your personality,” he says with a shit-eating grin, “because you’re not going to win her over on looks alone.” He slides a beer across the bar as he laughs at my frown.
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.” He stares down at his drink, before adding, “If you want to be seen, Mateo, then you need to stand in the spotlight, even if the light may burn your eyes.”
“Is that your way of saying I need to buck up or shut up?”
He beams. “Precisely. Either tell Charlie you’re into her—and have been for alongtime—or chuck those feelings overboard and move on.”
I sigh, picking at the label.
If only it were that simple.
Telling Charlie how I feel is easy on paper. But to stand in front of her and slice my chest open for her to root through my emotions and decide if they’re up to par? Well, I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
Because if I show her who I am, and she deems me unworthy, I don’t think I could look her in the eye for the remainder of our long program.
Chapter 4
Charlie
There aretwopieces of chocolate on my desk Wednesday morning, as if my mysterious Willy Wonka knew today was going to be a testament to my strength. I devour one and set the other aside for later when I’m nearing a bitch fit and need the sugar to calm my anxiety.
The last twenty-four hours have been a scramble to complete as many tasks as possible, and I need every minute until three p.m. to finish the last of the list.
I want to be as prepared as possible for my meeting with Cheryl, especially after trivia night. The last thing I want is for her to believe I neglect my work to go out to bars.
Falling into my chair, I filter through Cheryl’s comments on our manuscript. I ignore the ones that require changing graphs—I do not have it in me today to battle with data analysis software—and make grammar and structural edits.
I’m halfway through the introduction, checking citations, when the silence hits me. It’s never silent in the office, mostly becauseMateo hums while he works, much to my chagrin. But right now, it’s too quiet.
I peek around my monitor, which I strategically placed to avoid looking at Mateo, to find his chair empty. His laptop is missing and there’s no coffee mug on his drink coaster, meaning he hasn’t arrived yet.
