Page 25 of The Refusal

15

Jo

The following morning I’m back in Mays inhaling steam and espresso grounds, trying not to overthink the conversation with Des and James about my lack of a relationship, my lack of dates, my lack ofeverything. Trying not to think about the gibberish I spout around guys I like. After I got home last night, I googled Janus Phillips andmy Godthe number of women he’s been photographed with. My guilty secret? As I was scrolling, I found a picture of him in board shorts on vacation somewhere, which I’ve screen-captured. It will do nothing to help me behave normally around him or help me sleep when I wake up in hot sweat. I’m contemplating the chalkboard of new coffee blends when a kiss lands on the back of my neck, and my whole body locks.

“What the—” I spin round to find Andy grinning at me. I can hardly handle my plummeting stomach. That will teach me to stop daydreaming about Janus Phillips when I should be thinking about work. Am I so deep in my daydreams that I could convince myself that he would be kissing my neck? The words “You’re a supplier” float through my head.

“Don’t pile your hair on your head if you don’t want guys having hot fantasies about being behind you and smooching the back of your neck,” Andy says.

He’s smiling.

He’s an absolute menace.

“That’s assault actually,” I say, completely failing to appear stern. “My hair gets in the way when I’m working and I pile it on my head, you dick. Just ’cause guys like you think that—” But he’s shaking his head at me.

“Jo. No one could see your neck and not want to kiss it.”

“Andy …” I circle my face with the finger of one hand. “Very annoyed face.”

He holds up his hands in mock apology, grinning widely at me. “Okay, I’m sorry I attacked you—goddamn feminist!”

I grin at him, not at all offended.

“You see, this is why I could never go out with you. You assault me and then—”

“Oh, shut up!” he mumbles good-naturedly. I don’t mind being assaulted by Andy. He’s harmless, and underneath all his whoring ways is a heart of gold; he just needs to find the right woman to be faithful for.

I smile sweetly at him. “Met any more elevens recently?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I’m glad I ran into you; I’ve got a favor to ask.”

He glances off to the side and my ears prick up.

“You can say no, okay?” The words are almost dragged out of him, and he chews the side of his cheek, glancing around without meeting my eyes.

His normal effusive confidence is being replaced by an Andy I’ve never glimpsed before. I’ve never seen him so … so … unsure. I gesture with my hand for him to spill the beans.

“I’ve got a problem with a girl at the office and I need to take someone to a dinner that isn’t from work. I don’t want to show up alone.”

His words come out in a rush, a flinching tremor in his voice. “I don’t want any more drama. I’m genuinely worried if she kicks off they might fire me. I thought of you because we’re friends, and I thought you might like to go and catch up with everyone from Triton? It’s a work do.”

His eyes are cast down as if the floor will answer his prayers, and he runs his hand around the back of his neck. I stare down the line to where the barista is making coffee. Seeing the guys from my old office again would be amazing, and I had a good time at Triton, but Andy’s modus operandi with women is not usually like this. I turn back, considering his bowed head intently.

“How bad is it with the girl?”

“We hooked up at a bar one weekend and since then she’s been on my case,” he mumbles, blowing out a long breath and staring at the wall behind my head. “She’s told me she’s pregnant.” The last bit comes out on a whisper.

“Shewhat?” Too late I realize my voice is way too loud—pulling a few stares from the surrounding customers—and he shushes me with a hand, grabbing hold of my arm and dragging me in close, finally meeting my gaze. He hunches his shoulders and gives me puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

I almost laugh at this request. I’m in our office twenty-four seven; who would I tell?

“She fucking tricked me into not wearing a condom, and now she’s telling me she’s expecting a baby. I just don’t believe her. What are the chances the one time I don’t wear a condom she is—she gets—”

He can’t even repeat the word and screws up his face in defiance.

There is so much wrong with that sentence I think my head is going to explode. “Andy—”

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