Page 4 of Take 2
I can just walk past him. It is perfectly reasonable for me to not have noticed him. There are a ton of people around. I only did notice him because I was scanning for James. Preston is as nondescript as every other hungover human here, complete with dark designer sunglasses. James would probably still claim Preston is good-looking in a T-shirt and jeans, and the thought makes me instantly annoyed at my friend for the imagined gawking. He’s dealt with me being angry at him for stuff he’s done in my dreams before, so it’s not like this would surprise him.
“Good morning, Mira.”
There are no beats missed as I turn to give Preston my best surprised smile. “Oh, hi. Congratulations on the win.”
“Thanks. Wish you’d come out last night.” His voice is as smooth as his movements when he holds out one of the cups to me.
I glance back and forth between the cup and his face. Even with a neutral expression, his lips tip ever so slightly upward. I want to pinch the corners of them and pull them down. “Preston, last night I accepted drinks from you because the hotel had to have delivered them, and even if you did find a way to poison them, I was somewhat willing to be poisoned. Today, I’m feeling a lot more optimistic, and so, not looking to die.”
“Then you shouldn’t have told me to get you coffee.”
My heart jumps up to my throat. Or I’m going to be sick again. “I did no such thing. I told James to get me coffee. Or possibly the person who was giving me my nine-thousandth final notice that my car warranty is expiring. Not you.”
“Knowing you thought it was James or a spam call does make me feel better that you weren’t particularly warm and friendly.”
“No.” I dig through my purse. My phone hid under the comforter after I threw it, and I only just found it as I was leaving the room, so I didn’t stop to look at the screen. I snag it from amongst an assortment of ChapSticks, and if I had realized what time it was, I’d have known James hadn’t called me. Why am I even awake right now? My jaw drops when I see the call log.
I should have left it off. Instead, after James went to his room, the pity party continued with a drunken phone call to a friend back home. And I guess I managed to switch it off silent. At least I didn’t send anything to the number at the top of my recent calls.
“Ah,Fucking Preston Greene.I’m flattered.” His breath hits my ear from his creeper position over my shoulder, but at least that means he shouldn’t see the rosy proof of my face heating. My body and its absurd reaction to him is my second worst enemy. “And to think, despite that, I did get you coffee.” He reaches it around me.
My massage therapist says I must clench my jaw a lot. I’m going to start billing Preston for those appointments.
“Thanks,” I say without turning around or reaching for the offered beverage, “but I’m kind of particular about my—”
“Brown sugar oat milk latte with an extra shot?”
A long breath blows out of me while I wrap my hand around the cup. He doesn’t let go, though. Our fingers stay there, intertwined, for a moment that no doubt feels much longer than it is. Time is added to my list of enemies because how dare it stretchnowwhen years manage not to change anything as time hops right by.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“Thank you, Preston.” Now, when I pull the cup, his fingers slip away. I turn and look up at him. My feet haven’t recovered from last night, but I’d suffer the pain of heels right now not to be so much shorter than him. He’s moved the sunglasses to the top of his head now, holding back his mussed, dark waves. His eyes remind me of my plan to dispose of everything green. “Thank you for waking me up too early and stealing my assistant so you can find out what my Starbucks order is.” I take a sip of the beverage in question. It’s been a while since I had the Kristen version. If it was exactly how I prefer it, Preston Greene might have ruined my go-to coffee. This one is decent, but knowing he didn’t get it quite right is satisfying in a really pathetic way.
“I did not steal Kristen. And insider information on you was only a bonus—certainly not the reason I hired her.”
“Mhmm. So, why did you call me at such an ungodly hour?”
“Nine a.m. is hardly—”
“The day after the Oscars, it absolutely is.”
“Well, I wanted to see if I could catch you for breakfast before James hogs you.”
“You mean before James is here to protect me.” I take a sip of my latte. “Well, you succeeded. Thanks for breakfast.” I jiggle the coffee cup.
“Coffee is not a meal.”
“Okay, Mom.” I start to back away. “Oh, I have a question first. Did you send that amenity before you won?” It’ll kill me a little to know he wrote that note beforehand, but that dead little part will turn to coal and light a fire under my ass, the likes of which will propel me to victory.
“Of course not.” His eyes reflect discouragement, but his lips refuse to drop. The audacity to look surprised or hurt by the question is really what gets me, though. He invited me to celebrate his victory the day before, so why not send a taunting ‘gift’ ahead of time too?
I frown. “All right then.”
“That would be really shitty of me.”
“Yeah, it would have.”
“So why do you look disappointed that I didn’t do the shitty thing?”
