Page 31 of Never With You

Page List

Font Size:

I still don’t get it. Maybe space isn’t my thing.

@worth_traveling_to:

Just keep watching. You’ll understand more as you go.

@girl_sees_the_world:

I would’ve taken one look at Matt Damon’s world and known things weren’t going to work out there.

@worth_traveling_to:

They’re relying on data.

@girl_sees_the_world:

Data shmata.

@worth_traveling_to:

You’re pretty quiet over there. Are you still awake?

You’re a lightweight during movies. Noted. No wonder you don’t understand the ending. Have you even seen the ending?

I’m going to finish this one out. Sweet dreams @girl_sees_the_world.

The Pureskinfarewell dinner is supposed to be a whiteout beach party on the shores of Phuket. The theme makes my job so much easier.

White linens.

White flowers.

White centerpieces.

White couches and pillows.

White sheer canopy teepees and lights strung overhead.

Done.

Another item I can easily cross off—thank goodness, because the trip is in two weeks. I glance at my checklist to see what else needs my attention, but a notification on my phone distracts me, and I pounce on my device. Disappointment falls over me when I see it’s just a random push notification, not something from Mr. International.

I keep replaying last night’s correspondence in my mind.

I’m using the wordcorrespondenceas if I can somehow trick my heart into thinking these messages mean nothing.

Just two pen pals exchanging words. Or a movie night.

Nothing more.

Who am I kidding? I’ve got it bad for Mr. International. Just thinking about him makes me giddy. I push my feet against the ground, sending my desk chair whirling around, the walls of my cubicle spinning as I go.

“And you call me a child? I’m not the one twirling at work.”

I stop the motion as soon as I see Nate. “I was spinning.”

Straightening, I glare up at him, trying not to notice how good he looks with his hands in his pockets, rolled sleeves, and the top button of his shirt undone. Instead, I’m choosing to focus on how he interrupted my daydream.

His dark brows lift. “Hypocritical, don’t you think?”