Page 39 of Give Me a Chance
“Fuck, this is good.” Watching Natalie eat or drink is a hazard. Her moans of satisfaction make it impossible for my dick to discern this situation from one he would rather be in.
“Told you.” I stuff my face with food, trying to push down the hormones flowing my bloodstream.
“Maybe I should listen to you more.” Her playfulness doesn’t help me.
“You definitely should.”
Our conversation flows easily, and I can’t remember what it was like to be her enemy. That was a stupid idea, anyway. Being anything but infatuated with her is a futile task.
By the time we get back to the office, we’re almost crying from laughing. Her stories are quite entertaining—when they don’t include her having sex with other men.
We enter the office, still laughing, but the shocked faces of others make her clear her throat and get to her desk. Not even ten minutes later, Anne approaches me.
“So, you guys had fun?” she asks with a glint in her eyes.
“Sure, we work well together.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Her voice drips with insinuation.
I sigh. “Look, we said we’ll be friends, and that’s what we are.”
“My friends sure as hell don’t look at me like that.” And with that, she’s gone.
Fuck, it’s probably obvious I’m attracted to her. Maybe everyone can see it. I need to get my shit together, before it makes her uncomfortable.
19
NATALIE
When we hated each other, being close to Matt ground on my last nerve. Now, as friends, I’m still just as agitated.
He’s the romantic one. He’s the one who can’t separate sex from feelings. So why canheact like nothing ever happened between us and be a perfect gentleman and friend?
And why does that bother me?
It’s what I wanted, right?
But having his attention is like a drug. And thisfriendlyattention should be close, but it’s nowhere near enough.
I even tried to get more. I added a special sway to my hips in my tightest skirt yesterday and nothing. My moans while I ate the dim-sum were downright pornographic, but he didn’t flinch.
And I’m not proud to say it only makes me want him more.
One the other hand, the way he knew which venue I liked the most? The way he knew my coffee order?Thatattention I don’t like.
Can I trade one for the other?
The fourth venue was...wow. Not only for the gala, but for the miniature part of me that wanted to get married a lifetime ago.
That small part would choose venue number four for her wedding. The same part wants to gatekeep it instead of using it for the gala, but the rational part of me prevails—like it always does.
Venue number four it is. I enter the important information into the spreadsheet for planning and cross off ‘finding a venue’ from my list. I still need to call and confirm everything, but the big part is done.
“Good news, everyone! I think we got ourselves a venue!” I exclaim at my team’s meeting. Everyone cheers, bright faces excited to see it.
I pull up the presentation I prepared, with photos of the venue.
“This is gorgeous,” Rina says, while the others ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ in satisfaction.
