Page 9 of Spared
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, holding her stare. “For the towel.”
CHAPTER FOUR
the big deal
BLAIR
“What the hell is this?” I demand as I storm into the command center on Monday morning, thrusting my phone toward Matty.
He swivels around in his computer chair, blinking at the message displayed on the screen, then up at me. “I texted you,” he replies nonchalantly.
I yank my phone back with a frown. “Weird, since I never gave you my number.”
“C’mon, I’m a hacker genius, remember?” he drawls, flashing me a roguish grin.
I keep frowning at him, decidedly unamused.
“Okay, okay, I got it from Cam,” he admits, chuckling softly as he raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
I clench my jaw, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. It was bad enough that Matty caught me in a rare vulnerable moment on Friday night. I managed to avoid seeing him around the squad complex for the rest of the weekend– probably in part because I barely left my dorm room– and fully planned on waltzing in here today like nothing happened. Then I woke up to his text and my master plan blew up in my face.
Hey, it’s Matty. Just wanted to say I’m looking forward to working with you again this week. Hope you’re doing okay. Friends or not, I’m always here if you want to talk.
The moment I read that message I was completely fucking mortified. What the hell was I thinking, letting him see me at my weakest?Never again.
“No talking unless it’s work-related, remember?” I grumble, stuffing my phone into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans.
“But I didn’t talk, I texted,” he points out, winking.
Fucking semantics.
“Got you a coffee, too,” he adds, tipping his head toward my desk.
I glance over at the paper cup resting on the corner of it, my frown deepening. He brought me coffees every morning last week, too, but I never drank a single one of them. Rather than taking the hint, it looks like he’s doubling down on his efforts this week– in addition to the coffee, there’s a blueberry muffin resting on a napkin beside the cup.
Tempting.
“I don’t want your damn coffee,” I mutter, pointedly ignoring the food and drink as I skirt around my desk and pull out the chair, sliding my messenger bag off my shoulder.
“Not a coffee drinker, huh?” Matty muses, swiping a hand over his chin. “Do you prefer tea, or…”
“I’dpreferyou drop the act and accept that we’re co-workers, not friends,” I reply flatly.
“Okay, I get it,” he concedes with a sigh.
As ifI’mthe one being unreasonable here.
I huff out a breath as I flop down into my chair, grabbing for my computer mouse and shaking it to wake up my screen. The sooner I can bury myself in work, the better.
When I open up my task list for the week, I realize that won’t be a problem. It’s double the length of the last one. I quickly scroll through it, trying to decide where to start.
“Did you finish your half of the contact list last week?” Matty asks after a few minutes.
Work-related, so I’ll let it slide.
“All but one,” I mumble.
“What’s the name?” he asks, gazing at me over the top of his monitor. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”
