Page 75 of Fireworks Flame
“Maybe,” Deiss says. “I don’t know. I think it’s too close to call.”
“You agreed with me last time,” she says, her argument lacking venom.
“Last time,” he says, “I was sneaking drinks from Booker’s cup.”
“Gross.” Mia covers her mouth, and I could swear she’s hiding another smile. “So was I. No wonder he kept running downstairs to refill it.”
“We’ll need a sober rematch,” Deiss says. “And another opinion in case of a tie. What do you think, Liv? Are you good with ordering Luigi’s?”
I nod, struck silent. For years, I nibbled on a nutrition bar at my desk during lunch. I knew my life was lonely, but I’m not sure I ever allowed myself to admit how sad it really was. Sitting here, I want to be involved in these kinds of conversations for as long as possible. I want to continue to create new designs to the tune of good music instead of the incessant ringing of business lines. I want to look up from my laptop and see these colorful walls and bins full of artistic album covers instead of being trapped in a cubicle. And I want to have been included long enough that I can argue over my favorites—with Deiss, but also with Mia or Booker.
And I think I might be able to have it.
Every day, my place here feels more normal. Despite Mia’sconstant grumbling about my presence, she’s clearly getting used to it. When I’m around, she no longer waits for Deiss to show up to take a bathroom break. Instead, she asks me to watch the store for her. This morning, she didn’t even check the register when she came back to make sure I didn’t steal anything. Granted, it’s entirely possible there’s no money in there to take. Still. I felt flattered.
“She’ll want the eggplant roll-ups,” Mia says.
I scrunch my nose and look to Deiss. “Will I?”
He shrugs. “I haven’t had them. You can pull up the menu online if you want, especially if you want your own entrée instead of splitting the other two with us. Mia is an expert orderer, though. If you want to, you can trust her.”
“Yeah.” Mia smirks, contrary to her words. “Trust me.”
“Fine,” I say, turning back to Deiss. “Add an order of eggplant roll-ups, please, and we’ll all share.”
My effort to catch Mia’s reaction is thwarted by the ding of a bell. I watch her eyes narrow at whoever has just come through the door. I lean forward to look around Deiss and discover Zoe strolling down the middle aisle like it’s a catwalk. She’s wearing a skirt that stops so high on her thighs it makes mine look like a family-sized tent. My stomach sinks, even though I know I should be glad she’s showed up.
You like her, I remind myself silently.You liked her when you first met her, and you definitely like her now that she wants to share her business with you.
It’s all true. But what’s also true is the fact thatshelikes Deiss. I can see it in the way her eyes light up at the sight of him.
“I made it,” Zoe says, throwing up her arms like she’s on a game show and we’re applauding for her. She drops her arm toslide it through Deiss’s and simpers up at him. “Did you miss me?”
Without thinking, I look to Mia. Our eyes meet, matching grimaces tugging at our mouths. Quickly, I grab hold of myself, wiping my expression clean of disdain and turning back to Zoe. Not that it matters. She’s one hundred percent focused on Deiss.
“Desperately,” he says dryly.
“Don’t tease.” Her giggle contradicts her words, begging him to give her more. “Can you sneak out of here after I’m done with Liz?”
“It’s Liv,” I say, wishing it was appropriate to tug her arm free of Deiss’s and deposit it firmly back against her side, where it might assist in preventing her skirt from sliding even farther up.
“You’re really going to work with someone who can’t remember your name?” Mia whispers as I wave at her to shut up. “It’s three letters.”
“I’m so bad.” Zoe laughs and bends over to hug me, which seems more like an excuse to brush against Deiss and show off her cleavage than any real effort to apologize. “I promise, that was the absolute last time.”
“I’m going to put in the order,” Deiss says, backing up. “Zoe, do you want anything from Luigi’s?”
“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” Zoe backs off me like an invisible string is connecting her to Deiss. “I couldn’t, though. Gotta shed that vacation weight. You can make it up to me with a drink later, though.”
The corner of Deiss’s mouth curls with amusement, and I feel the first genuine shot of jealousy rip through me. “I’m supposed to make it up to you that you turned down my offer of food?”
“You offered,” she says with a flirtatious cock of an eyebrow, “the wrong thing. I’m giving you the chance to make me a better offer.”
He laughs, and a second shot of jealousy roars through me. I’m being ridiculous, though. Lucas Deiss is not my boyfriend. Maybe he really does care about me and has no intention of phasing me out after a couple of weeks like he seems to do with everyone else. That still doesn’t change the fact that we’ve been romantic for less than forty-eight hours. If he knew how protective I was feeling, he’d be horrified. I force my face to go blank.
“As much as I appreciate your generosity,” he says, “I’m going to have to pass.”
I’m concentrating so hard on keeping my face blank, I don’t even allow myself to blink.
