Page 19 of Losing Forever
“I know. Grayson told me. I’m good, though. Thanks.”
“Speaking of Grayson, have you seen him? I thought he was in here.”
“He was, but then he ran out.”
“Ran?”
“Yeah. Like ran-for-his-life ran.” I raise my hand and shrug. “I couldn't tell you why.”
“Hmm?” He closes the door then scans our office and Grayson’s, easily visible through the glass walls.
I do the same from where I sit. No Grayson in sight. He's not off with Caitlyn because she's at her desk. Every few moments, her gaze flickers to me and then back to her computer.
Why? I motion for her to come over.
She stiffens like she's about to get in trouble and lets herself into the office.
“Hey,” I say, casually. “Is everything okay? Bad coffee? Mine wasn't that great.”
“I saw.” She clasps her hands together, looking tense. “I saw Grayson in here, too. If you two have a thing, it'd be really bad of me to get in the way. I'm not competitive. I mean, I am at some things but not at stuff like this. I'll back down. I wouldn’t even have accepted his offer if I had known he was into you.”
What is she saying? “Grayson isn't into me.”
She laughs, the high-pitched sound airy and filled with disbelief. “Then we must have a different definition of what that means. When a guy stares at a girl the way he stares at you, it means he's got it bad. And when he’s pitching a tent just from touching your face, it means he's got it really, really bad.”
“Pitching a tent?”
“Yeah.” She relaxes a little. “You know, raises the flagpole. Gives you the full salute. Doubleheader? Breakfast burrito? Ring any bells?”
“These are sayings I should know?” Were they lost in my memory and never returned after the accident or did they get popular while I was healing, and I missed learning the newest slang?
She studies me and lifts her hands. “I’m going to come right out and say it. Please don’t fire me. I was referring to the raging hard-on in his pants. It was huge. I could see it from my desk. How didyoumiss it?”
Laughter bursts from my lips. I cover my mouth, trying to muffle the sound.
She inches toward me, her hand lifted near my head. “Are you crying?”
I inhale a calming breath and straighten in the chair, my cheeks burning. “I'm not crying. I was laughing. I’ve never heard those before.” Rager, boner, hard-on, dong, schlong, stiffy, Woodie—those I know. But hers… “You might be the funniest person I know.”
Caitlyn grins back at me and shrugs. “I’m not that funny, but thanks for the compliment.”
“Were you serious?” She couldn’t have been because, like she said, how could I have missed that?
“As serious as I want to keep this job. I’m canceling my date with Grayson tonight as soon as he comes out of the bathroom, doing whatever it is he must be doing to relieve himself in there.” She bugs her eyes.
Is she implying what I think she is, and if so, could she be right? Would he do that here in our office?
I don't know why, but I lean to the side and peer around her to the bathroom. What if he didn't lock the door? I bet he doesn't know there's only one office bathroom and it's unisex. I should tell him when he comes out, or maybe Noah should. If Grayson is doing what Caitlyn thinks, it'd be less embarrassing for him—and me—to have Noah explain the bathroom situation.
Laughter stirs in my chest. I cover my mouth to keep from cracking up like I did before. This is not how I behave anymore. All carefree and full of emotions. It’s a lot more fun, though. Maybe I should go with it for a little while, try it out like a new pair of jeans and see if it's a good fit.
The business phone rings.
“I should get that.” Caitlyn excuses herself and hurries to her desk.
At that moment, my slow brain decides to grasp a key detail of our conversation. Grayson asked her on a date. Tonight. Before he came in here, touched my face, setting my nervous system on high alert, and sprung a rager.
Why react like that to me if he's into Caitlyn? Does he react like that to her, too? To all girls? Whichever the case, he likes her enough to ask her on a date, and me only enough to get hard. In the past—pre-accident—I was the girl other girls wanted to be. Popular, stylish, wealthy, and had a dad who knew famous people. I didn't rub it in anyone's face, but my best friend at the time liked to point it out.
