Sure. Still up 4 camping?

PROLOGUE

“This is your fault, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!”

I twisted out of the arms holding me back and rammed my fist in his face again, seeing nothing but red. I continued to pound the bastard’s face until I was once again pulled off him.

“I swear to God, if you ever so much as even think about stepping in the same zip code as her ever again, I will rip out your spine and feed it to you before breaking every bone in your body.”

The prick lay on the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to take a ragged breath. Red, mucus-streaked blood dripped out of his mouth and down his chin. He spat out a tooth, spraying blood on the ground at my feet. He never bothered to try to stand back up. It was a smart decision on his part, because I’d just knock him back down.

“Dude, enough!” JT tightened his grip on my arms as blood dripped from my knuckles.

The fucker’s eyes held genuine remorse as he glanced around the room at each of us. “I had no idea this would happen. She wasn’t supposed to do that. They weren’t supposed to hurt her. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything,” he moaned.

The words and his regret weren’t enough to make up for his actions, but before I could strike again, he whispered, “Please, tell me she’s going to be okay. That she’s not…”

The words broke me. My vision blurred behind the tears that welled in my eyes. Was she going to...? She couldn’t…? How did this happen? How did I let myself fail to protect her? She trusted me, and I let her down. I wanted to blame him, but really I had no one to blame but myself. I failed her.

My shoulders slumped as all my anger turned to fear. Fear for her. Fear of a future without her in it. I needed to see her, needed to make sure she was okay. But that wasn’t possible now. The only thing I could do was wait. Sit and wait for however this turned out.

Because no matter what happened, by the end of tonight my life would never be the same again.

CHAPTER ONE

When I was about six, my dad had begun to call me his little Monkee. People always assumed I was a tomboy who climbed trees, but that wasn’t it at all. No, Daddy called me that because I was always daydreaming. His little “Daydream Believer,” just like the song. I was always in my head more than I was in the world. And today was no exception. But today, I wasn’t daydreaming; I was trying to relive a dream from last night.

With the top of the VW Bug convertible down, the wind rushed through my ears, drowning out the chatter around me as my eyes slid shut. I turned up toward the sun, enjoying the heat on my face as my long, brown hair whipped around me and tangled. It would be impossible to tame it later, but it felt so good to let go of everything, and I didn’t want the feeling to end.

“Hey! Are you even listening?” Ava chastised, playfully shoving my shoulder to get my attention. I hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation of my best friends beside me, but they were used to it by now. “Hello? Earth to Jillian!”

I shook my head, bringing myself out of my thoughts and back into the present. Grabbing a hair tie from around the stick shift, I threw my hair into a messy bun until I could brush it out later. I wanted to leave it free to give the sun a chance to lighten it a few shades like it did every summer, but I’d save that for another day.

“I’m sorry, Ava.”

“Daydreaming again?”

“Sort of. I was thinking about this dream I had last night.” I paused for a moment, mustering the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on my mind since I woke up five hours earlier. It sounded so stupid in my head; I knew it would sound even worse out loud. But these were my best friends, and I needed to talk this out before I went crazy.

“Have you ever woken up from a dream and thought it really happened?”

“Yeah, every time I dream about me and Chris Hemsworth.” Trish sighed, thinking of her favorite fictional boyfriend.

“No, I mean, like the dream was trying to tell you something. Send a message.” I groaned. This was sounding even stupider than I thought, and nothing was coming out right. “What I’m trying to ask is, do you believe dreams can be prophetic?”

Ava turned down the sounds of Bruno Mars blasting through the speakers. “Huh? Like what, you’re some kind of fortune teller now? What exactly was that dream about? Am I going to win the lottery?”

“I don’t remember a lot of the specifics, but I can’t shake this feeling I was with someone else.”

From the backseat, Trish pulled her feet up and sat on them, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on my headrest. “You mean someone other than Christian?”

Ava gasped, and the car swerved a little onto the shoulder before she righted it. She always was the most dramatic one of our trio. Even her looks were striking, with her pitch-black hair cut in a blunt bob that angled down, highlighting her high cheekbones and her signature cherry red, pouty lips. “That’s insane! You and Christian have been together since we were sophomores in high school. He loves you like crazy. And with your four-year anniversary coming up at the end of the summer, I’m pretty sure he’s going to pop the question.”

I frowned. Huh, that should not be my first reaction to the thought of my boyfriend proposing. I shook off the errant thought. Of course I was excited. It was just this stupid dream that made me frown.

“I know, I know. And I love him, too. It was a stupid dream. Never mind. Forget I brought it up.”

“Oh no,” Trish clucked. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. This sounds like a juicy dream, so spill it, missy!”

“It was nothing. Really.” I turned to look back out the window but knew neither Trish nor Ava would let it rest at that. I wasn’t a good enough liar to pull it off, and they knew me too well. I sighed. Might as well get this over with. “It was…intense. We were holding hands walking down the beach over by the lighthouse, and then he stopped and turned me, staring in my eyes. But the thing was, it wasn’t Christian. It was someone else. And we were connected in a way I’ve never felt before.”

Trish balked in the backseat, placing her hands on her ample hips and rolling her baby blues at me. “Pfft! What, like soul mates? Those only exist in rom-coms and cheesy romance novels.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes to try to picture the face that hung just outside my memory. I wanted to capture the feelings of the dream once more—if only for a second.

“No, not soul mates. You know I don’t believe in those. It was more like we were completely compatible. Like he got me, and we clicked together. Pieces of a puzzle or something.”

“But you and Christian have that, sweetie. You guys are perfect together,” Ava reassured me.

“Yeah, you’re right. We are.” I smiled, trying to convince myself the stupid dream meant nothing. Christian and I were great together, everyone said so. Sure, there were a few things I would change about him if I could—things that worried me about our future—but all couples had that. After all, no one was perfect. “Like I said, it’s stupid. It didn’t mean anything.” I tried to keep my tone light, indifferent even, but I couldn’t shake the hint of longing that snuck in.

“So, was this dream guy at least a hottie?” Trish asked from the backseat, wagging her eyebrows at me.

Heat flushed my face, and I turned away to hide from Trish’s view. “Um, I don’t remember,” I lied. It was a partial lie. I didn’t remember what the guy in my dream looked like, but I remember how my body tightened when our eyes met—that intense heat flared to life within me and brought an almost unquenchable sense of longing as we moved closer together.

I wished I could go back to sleep right now and dream about him again. I tried falling back asleep after waking up with my heart racing, but it was impossible. The dream was just out of my reach when I closed my eyes, even when I tried to remember the quickly fading details. I feel like Tantalus, I thought.

“Girl, you can try to hide the blush all you want. We’ve been friends for too long for me not to see through that. Spill. And this time, I want all the juicy details. This must have been one hell of a dream to make you turn the shade of a ripe tomato.”

I continued to attempt to hide the evidence, but Trish would have none of it. She began poking me under the ribs—the spot she knew I was most ticklish. She knew I had no defenses against tickling. I squealed, bending over to try to protect the sensitive area, but she was unrelenting.

“Okay, okay!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I give up. Uncle! I’ll tell you, stop tickling me, please.”

Trish relented, resuming her seat in the back of the car and pumping her arms triumphantly.

“I already told you, I don’t remember any of the specific details. I only remember how being with him made me feel. It was like…” I paused, trying to find the right words. “I’d never wanted to be with someone so badly in my entire life.”

“Wow, it sounds intense. So now you think this dream is going to come true?” Ava made the turn into the mall entrance. It was packed, as usual for a Saturday, so we began the hunt for a spot to park.

“When I woke up this morning, I had this feeling it was more than a dream, like it was a metaphor or something. Like there was a message there.” I closed my eyes, trying once again to picture his face. Had I seen him somewhere before? Did that guy really exist? “It’s totally crazy, but it felt so real. If I hadn’t woken up next to Christian, I would have sworn it really happened.”

“Did you tell him anything about it?”

“God, no! How awkward would that conversation have been? ‘Um, hun, I know we’ve been together for a long time now, but I have the hots for an imaginary guy I dreamt about.’” I rolled my eyes. “I can see that going over real well.”

Trish snorted. Ava and I both laughed at our crazy friend as Ava finally found and pulled into a spot and we filed out of the car. The three of us had been friends for as long as I could remember. Ava’s grandma lived on the same street as Trish and me, and she was the only one in the neighborhood with a pool. With the intense South Georgia heat, we’d have been friends with her if she was the Jolly Green Giant or had a tail. But we’d lucked out because she was awesome.

Now, we’d all completed our first year at Georgia State University, and it was time to reward ourselves with some retail therapy. Since there was only one mall in our small suburban town outside of Brunswick, Georgia, we had been regulars here since middle school. We did everything at this mall: got our nails done, flirted with boys, saw movies, and hung out. Today, we were on the hunt for new shoes.

“So your mom got you a job for the summer, too?” Trish asked as she tried on a new pair of sandals, holding her foot out in front of her as she inspected how they looked from every angle. “And here I was looking forward to sleeping in for a change.”

Trish had an unhealthy love of shoes, more than anyone I knew. She always said it was the one thing she didn’t have to worry about fitting when her weight yo-yoed, which it often did. With the start of a new summer and bathing suit season, I was sure she was about to begin another crash diet, if she hadn’t done so already. Ava and I loved her no matter how she looked, and she always had a string of guys who lusted after her curvaceous body. She exuded self-confidence in public, but her closest friends saw through that. She always said she wanted to be super skinny like Ava, or petite like me. I had no idea why. I mean, at least she had boobs that required a bra.

“Trish, none of your classes this semester started before noon. You slept in every day!” Ava pulled one of the nylon footies out of the box the store provided and flung it like a slingshot at Trish.

“Yeah, but when you go to bed at five AM, it’s not really sleeping in, is it?”

“Anyway,” I interrupted my friends before they could continue their footie war and get us kicked out of the store. “Yes, my mom got me this job answering phones or something. One of her friends from church is the manager and had an opening. I start tomorrow. I don’t even get more than a week’s vacation before I’m back at it.”

I kicked off the nude peep-toe pumps I was ogling and replaced them in the box. Maybe after my first paycheck I could afford the designer label, but today they would not be coming home with me.

Trish saw my defeated face and wrapped me in a hug. “Well, we still have two days to enjoy our freedom, so enough about dreams and work. We have some shoes to buy!”

CHAPTER TWO

“Welcome to Allegro Corporation, Jillian. I’m Connie, the senior administrative assistant here. We’re so happy to have you aboard this summer. Your mother talks about you all the time.”

I smiled at the older, heavyset woman as she showed me around. The woman’s kitten heels clicked loudly as we walked. She paused every few seconds as she said “hey” to another co-worker and asked about their weekend. Connie cheerfully pointed out the copy machine, coffee maker, and mailroom.

This woman is way too cheerful for eight o’clock in the morning, I thought. But at least I know where the coffee maker is now.

“I’m so grateful you had a spot here for me, Connie. But forgive me, my mom didn’t really explain to me what exactly I would be doing here.”

“Allegro is an advertising agency specializing in Internet advertisements and sales. We’re one of the largest employers here in Brunswick, with about six-hundred employees throughout the company. You are going to be answering phones and transferring calls for the sales department. It’s quite simple really.” She paused as we entered a bland cubicle at the end of a row. The cubicles to my left and right were empty, and the closest person was only in shouting distance. It appeared I would be all alone.

“Well, here we are. We’ll hire a few temps throughout the summer, so you won’t be alone for long.” I glanced around my workstation. It was empty save for a computer, chair, and phone. The phone was massive, with dozens of little green and red lights blinking away like a Christmas tree.

“I’ll send someone over to show you the ropes, but basically, you answer the calls using our standard greeting and look up the status of the person the caller wishes to speak to using the computer directory. If they’re available, transfer the call. If they’re out, transfer to voicemail and message the rep. The sales department is the largest department with over two hundred and fifty people, so it might seem overwhelming at first, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.”

My stomach tightened as I watched the array of lights twinkle. Unlike most tech-savvy kids my age, I was terrible with electronics. I’d graduated in the top ten percent of my high school, but was a complete moron when it came to computers, let alone fancy, hi-tech phones with blinking, angry lights that cautioned what I’d find on the other end. I’d accidentally broken three of my mom’s laptops somehow, and the Geek Squad cringed when they saw me walk into the store. I still didn’t have a smart phone because I was afraid I’d break it. I couldn’t even hook up my DVR correctly without getting Christian to fix it.

What If I can’t handle all the calls? Or I screw up? My mom called in a favor to get me this job; I can’t let her down or embarrass her by failing. In a small town like this, everyone would know how badly I’d failed before she could even make it home. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and squared my shoulders, putting on a fake bright smile.

“It shouldn’t be a problem at all. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

I hoped speaking the words out loud would help instill some confidence, but I felt like a fraud.

“Well, if you need anything, call me. My extension’s in the directory. I’ll send Temperance right over to give you a quick demonstration, and someone from IT should be by to set you up with a username and password.”

I wasn’t given a chance to respond before someone called Connie over the intercom, and she left, heels clicking merrily away. I sat alone in the cubicle for a few minutes, trying to read the tiny buttons on the phone without much success when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“You must be Jillian,” a cheerful woman greeted.

Why is everyone so happy this early in the morning, I groaned in my head.

She wore a sunny yellow top with white lace adorning the collar and a pleated black skirt that fell below her knee. She was probably in her late thirties, but with her lack of makeup she appeared older. “I’m Temperance. I’m going to show you how all this craziness works. How familiar are you with the Cisco Unified IP phone system?”

“Um, not at all. I’ve never worked in an office before. The past couple of years I was a camp counselor, and I babysat, so this is all kind of new to me.” Temperance pursed her lips disapprovingly. I looked down at my feet, lifting my hand to my mouth as I bit the side of my thumb, trying to will my face not to flush.

“Oh boy. This is going to be harder than I thought. And they put you on the busiest floor, too,” she clucked, taking my hand and dragging me to another cubicle a few rows away and pushing me into the chair. “All you have to do is…” She prattled on and on for fifteen minutes about the meanings of the rainbow of color choices in the computer, not pausing to give me a chance to write any of it down or memorize a thing. “Got it?”

I couldn’t even respond, trying to keep the colors and screens straight in my head. I simply stared at her like a deer in headlights.

“Here, sit down and watch how I do it for a while. You’ll pick it up.”

Two hours later, I was completely overwhelmed and bored out of my mind simultaneously. We hadn’t moved at all, and I hated sitting still for this long. I swiveled in the chair, spinning in circles and taking in all the knitted decorations that filled Temperance’s cubicle. Between the crocheted seat cozy and pictures of cats everywhere with sayings like “Hang in there” and “You’re purrfect they way you are,” I assumed the woman didn’t get out much.

Temperance made me watch everything from a distance, never letting me participate in the training or learn anything. I tried for the first thirty minutes to look over her shoulder and pay attention to what she did, but the woman pushed buttons and typed so fast, I had no idea what she was actually doing. When she announced it was time for me to try it on my own, my heart began to race.

“Are you sure? Maybe I should take the rest of the day to observe and try it tomorrow?”

Temperance swiveled in her chair to face me. “Nah, I think you’re ready. Come on, give it a try.”

I had no idea what inspired this woman’s confidence in me, but Temperance was determined. She stood up from the chair, took her headset off, and brushed off her chair, inviting me to sit.

“Now, the next time the phone rings, simply do what I’ve been doing.”

I have no idea what you’ve been doing, I thought as I switched seats. I’ve been making a list of birthday present options for my Gamma in my head instead and practicing my Russian.

“Here goes nothing.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Dude, did you get a look at the new hottie Connie was bringing around this morning?” JT plopped down at the desk beside me, spinning around in two full circles before coming to a stop and booting up his iMac. He wore his customary wrinkled khakis with the company polo we all wore, his comic book tee shirt peeking out from under it.

I returned my focus back to my screen. “No, I didn’t see anyone this morning since I got here early to recode this algorithm. You know—the one we were both supposed to start on an hour ago?”

“Sorry, man. My mom forgot to wake me. But seriously, Grant. You’ve gotta go check this girl out. Smokin’ body, tight little ass, and that sweet Southern twang that hits me in all the right places, if ya know what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his comments about the new girl. “JT, you’re almost twenty-five. Why is your mom still waking you up? Or for that matter, why are you still living at home? It’s just sad, dude.”

JT flicked his pen cap at me using a rubber band as a slingshot. I ducked as it whizzed by and landed in my now-empty coffee cup.

“Whatever. I have it made. I don’t have to cook or clean, all my laundry is done and folded when I get home, and it’s free. Why would I give that up?”

There was no talking sense into him. “You live with your mom! How do you expect to ever get a girl like that?”

He swiveled toward me and bent slightly, placing his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers by his chin. “Any chick who wants a piece of this,” he paused, running his hands up and down his body like a Price is Right model, “better be down with my ma living with us. I mean, ever since Pops left, she’s been real sad and shit. What kind of son would I be if I didn’t let her take care of me and just moved out?”

“You’d be the kind of son with more than only his left hand to keep him company.” I stood up, tossing my empty cup in the trash. I’d never understand how JT scored girls’ numbers every time we went out. He dressed like a slob, had terrible manners, but yet girls still fell all over him. I asked him once. He winked at me and told me it was because he could pass for Joshua Jackson’s twin brother (and often did to get laid). The bastard had all the luck.

“You’re one to talk. I don’t see you sportin’ any arm candy. When’s the last time you even had a date? Or hell, a one-night stand?” He crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.

“Yeah, but that’s by choice. I don’t need the hassle or drama right now, and that’s all these spoiled sorority girls bring. I’ve got to finish my Masters so I can get a job out in Silicon Valley and get out of the humid-as-fuck hell-hole that is Southern Georgia.”

JT scooted back to his workstation. “Oh God, not this again. If I have to hear about ‘The Plan’ one more time, I might poke my eyes out with a spoon. I think I’d rather be forced to teach computer basics to the Senior Center than listen to that crap again.”

“I’m not gonna make you hear it again, I’m just sayin’ that you’re two years older than me and I’m more of an adult than you. It might not be a bad thing to grow up a little, Peter Pan.”

“What? And be like you? I’ve known people in retirement communities with more of a social life than you. All you ever do is work, study, and hide in that crappy apartment of yours. If it wasn’t for rowing, I don’t think you’d willingly socialize at all. Do you even remember what fun feels like?”

“I have fun,” I protested. Well, I sometimes have fun. “And it’s called being an adult. I have responsibilities. Goals. You know, other than getting shit-faced or seeing if I can remember some random girl’s name in the morning. Maturity! You should try it sometime.”

I knew I was a little more boring than most guys my age, but I couldn’t afford to slack off. I refused to end up like my father, who got married right after high school, never went to college, and then was stuck with no options after he took a spill off a ladder while painting a house one day. He was put on disability when I was ten and hadn’t been able to find a decent job since.

Then Mom died in a car accident when I was barely sixteen, and Dad shut down. She was the greatest woman in the world, and I understood why my dad loved her so much, but it was like losing both parents when the depression took over. His grief consumed him and he’d been a shell of a person ever since.

I was forced to grow up fast, taking jobs in high school fixing computers or, when I was desperate for cash, hacking for anyone who’d pay. I had always been good with computers, and it was easy money. I felt guilty as hell doing it, but it was either that or go hungry after Dad spent the last fifty bucks of his SSI check on scratch offs.

I quickly earned a reputation as a discreet and reliable hacker, changing grades here and there or wiping a stolen cell phone or computer clean for resale. I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate. And as soon as I graduated with a secure full ride to college, I refused to do it ever again.

What I was forced to deal with as a teenager was the main reason I rarely dated now. Not that I didn’t miss all the fun that went along with dating, but I never wanted to be put in his position, where I gave every part of myself to another person and had nothing left when they died. I needed the purpose, focus, and stability a good career provided, and I needed to do everything in my power to make sure that happened. Girls didn’t fit in the picture.

JT’s voice jarred me from my thoughts. “How about, instead, we head over to Savannah tonight and pick up a couple sweet vacationing honeys we can give the down-and-dirty personal tour? C’mon, be my wingman. Look, don’t take this wrong ‘cause I don’t swing that way, but you’ve got everything the girls want. I mean face it, man, you know the girls would drop their panties at just the sight of that mug of yours, with the All-American look you’ve got goin’ on. And I know you spend hours workin’ out and rowing for our crew team, so your body is almost as killer as mine.” He flexed a muscle at me, but I rolled my eyes. “Chicks love you, and together we could score the cream of the crop. And then make them cream. Get it?”

Was this guy for real? “First, it’s a Monday, JT. And second, I’m not driving an hour one way to hit on girls. I can do that here in town.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew the mistake I’d made. I’d opened Pandora’s Box and given him the idea I wanted to hang out with him tonight and hit on girls.

“Sweet. So where we going then? The Corner Bar? Hightowers? Dirty Pete’s?”

God, it’d been forever since I’d been at any of those places. When did I become this boring? Not dating seriously was one thing, never going out was another. I was driven, not dead. Maybe JT was right. Maybe I needed to get laid. Just a meaningless one-night stand. It would peel a few layers of stress off but wouldn’t mess up The Plan.

An alert on the screen in front of me told me there was yet another error with the code I’d written. No, there’d be no girls tonight. At this rate, I’d be sitting in front of this computer for the next week straight.

“All right, I’m outta here. I need more coffee and some sugar before I strangle you. When I get back, we gotta do some serious work on the algorithm, so be ready.”

JT cracked the knuckles on his fingers. “Let’s do this shit.”

I choked out a laugh as I left. JT might have been a social idiot sometimes, but he had mad skills when it came to coding, HTML, Linux, or anything else I threw his way. I headed to the break room where they had one of those coffee pod machines rather than the sludge they tried to pass off as coffee in the main lobby. I took the long way around in order to avoid ten people stopping me with moronic questions that could all most likely be solved by restarting their computers, but apparently I wasn’t stealthy enough.

“Grant! Yoo hoo, Grant!” Connie waved her arms frantically in the air as she prattled toward me, struggling not to be out of breath.

I paused, knowing it was no use to attempt to dodge her, and pinched the bridge of my nose as I closed my eyes, saying a quick prayer that for once she would keep this short. I was never going to finish coding the algorithm at this rate. “Yes, Connie? How can I help you?”

“I’m so glad I caught up with you. I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

“It’s only nine-fifteen, Connie.”

She didn’t respond to my Monday morning snark but pursed her lips disapprovingly. “As I was saying, I need your help. We have a bright new face joining our team this morning, and I need you to set up her computer and passwords and such. She’s over with Temperance right now but should be free this afternoon.”

I bit my cheeks to keep from laughing. If the girl was spending the morning with Temperance, I may not need to set up anything. Four hours listening to stories about Mr. Meow-Meow was enough to drive anyone to quit.

“I’ll set her up later today.”

“Oh, thank you, Grant. Her name is Jillian. Her mom’s such a dear friend of mine from church. I’m so happy I could help her out with a job while she’s on summer break from the Georgia State. Or was it The University of Georgia? Either way, she’s such a sweet girl. Her mom once told me—”

“I gotta get going, Connie. I’ll be sure to set Jenny—”

“Jillian,” she corrected.

“Yes, Jillian, as soon as I finish the project I’m working on now. I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t give her a chance to keep talking. Instead I wove my way through three rows of cubicles, ignoring anyone calling my name, and finally made it to the break room. I spun the carousel, looking through the selections. “Butter Pecan, Pumpkin Spice, Crème Caramel. Why can’t there be one that just says ‘coffee-flavored coffee?’” I grabbed the least girly flavored one and placed it in the machine, tapping my fingers impatiently as it brewed its magic.

“Hey, Grant. How was your weekend?” Tonya slid up next to me. The chick was pushing thirty but still acted like she was sixteen, wearing too-tight jeans and too-low-cut tops, too-heavy makeup that didn’t hide the premature wrinkles she got from smoking since she was probably a teenager. Don’t get me wrong, she was attractive for a woman her age, but I wasn’t interested.

She wasn’t one for subtlety and had been overtly hinting she wanted to go out with me for months. Yes, she had a great body and would be fun for a weekend or two; the drama that would result afterward was not worth the hassle. She’d never settle for one night, and I wanted no part of a relationship.

“Hey, Tonya. It was fine, thanks for asking.” I didn’t bother to ask how hers was. I knew it would lead to a ten-minute conversation about shopping, or nails, or something else I could give two-shits about. “Well, I gotta go. Bye.”

“Wait, Grant.” She reached out and grasped my arm, forcing me to stop or be a complete asshole and yank out of her grip. And while I might have been teetering on the edge, I wasn’t that much of a douche. Yet. “A few of us are having a bonfire out at the beach on Friday. I was hoping you might be able to make this one.”

The words “no, thanks” were on the tip of my tongue, but suddenly the hurt in her eyes forced me to swallow them down. Tonya had asked me to the last four in a row, and I’d turned her down each time. Something about JT’s earlier words and the longing in her eyes chipped away at my resolve.

“Yeah, maybe. I might check it out for a bit.” I’d drink a few beers, have a few laughs, and pretend I was a normal twenty-two-year-old for once. And who knows, maybe I’d even have fun.

CHAPTER FOUR

After sitting with Temperance for the rest of the day and flubbing over a dozen phone calls, I was ready to call it a day. I couldn’t get the hang of it, and when I became flustered, I made mistakes—like hanging up on the vice-president of the company instead of putting him on hold. I was sure they were going to fire me tomorrow, and my mom was going to be pissed. I didn’t think I could stand to see the disappointment in her eyes when Connie called her to tell her I wouldn’t work out.

I didn’t dare drive home and face the barrage of “how was your first day” questions from Mom and Dad, so instead I made a detour and turned my beat-up old Ford Taurus west toward my boyfriend’s house. I needed him to wrap me in a huge hug and let me vent.

I’d met Christian when he was a senior and I was a sophomore in high school. He’d asked me to his senior homecoming. I’d been the only sophomore asked, and I about died that one of the hottest seniors even noticed me. We’d been together since. I fell hard and fast for Christian. He was fun and spontaneous, and when I was with him, he made me feel like I was the only girl who existed. He showered me with affection and attention. I was the envy of every girl in my class. The first couple of years we were together were fun. We were barely able to keep our hands off each other.

Now that we were a little older and I was off to college, our relationship had hit a bit of a slump. We only saw each other once a month or so, and when we did it was only for a few hours. We tried to talk once a day, but with my study schedule and his band practice, it was more like twice a week. And sexting wasn’t making up for the romance anymore. I was really looking forward to us growing closer over the summer and rekindling some of the fire we had once shared.

I pulled into the driveway of Christian’s parents’ small two-bedroom ranch-style home, weaving my car down the path to go to the back basement entrance. Even though he was twenty-two and didn’t go to college—choosing to work at a local surf shop instead—he still lived with his parents in their basement. This never bothered me before, but as he approached his twenty-third birthday, his lack of ambition began to gnaw at me.

He’s saving money and waiting until I graduate, I reminded myself. So we can get married and get a place together.

“Babe? Is that you?” Christian called from the garage. He could always hear my clunker coming from half a mile away. I slammed the door, cursing the hunk-of-junk under my breath and making my way toward him. His amplifier hummed softly, and I knew he was practicing the new song he and his band, MindBlown, had been working on for the last month.

They had an eclectic sound, a mixture between modern rock and old-school country. The band consisted of Christian and three of his friends from high school, none of whom I got along with. His band meant everything to him though, so I tried to keep my mouth shut. They mostly played small gigs in town and had changed their name at least three times since their inception. They started as Up in Smoke, then changed to The Dirty Dixie Boys, and for a brief month even called themselves The Fish Dicks. I was very glad that name didn’t stick.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I walked into the garage and saw Christian and two of his band mates hanging out on the beat-up sofas they found at garage sales. His electric guitar was slung around his shoulder, and the pencil behind his ear told me he was trying to write a new song. “I wanted to come over a minute and see you. I had a terrible first day of work. I’m pretty sure they’re going to fire me.”

Christian stuck his guitar pic in the back pocket of his favorite pair of faded jeans that hung low on his hips and had tears at both the knees. No matter how long we’d been together, I could never get enough of just looking at his incredibly sexy body. It should be illegal to look that good. Seriously. He turned his body toward me, but his eyes were still on the sheet music in front of him.

“Oh, I’m sure you did fine. You’re great at everything. Hey, listen. We came up with a new melody for the chorus today.” He turned the amp back up and played a few chords, cutting me off from saying anything further.

I finally sat on the arm of the couch, squished between a dorm refrigerator, where he kept his beer, and his drummer, who reeked of marijuana and kept whacking my knee with his sticks as he played along in his head, eyes shut absorbing the music. I watched and listened, trying to feel upbeat, but it was useless today. My mood was too sour. Even staring at Christian wasn’t enough. His almost-black hair was now nearly at his chin and his pale gray eyes winked at me. He always reminded my friends and me of Jordan Catalano from My So-Called Life, to the point where we had multiple marathons of the show in high school. I would sigh and think how lucky I was that this amazing guy was interested in me. Now, he seemed more interested in his music.

An hour later, Christian and his friends were still at it, and no one even realized I was still there, so I slipped inside the main house to say hello to his mother. She was a sweet woman, and I enjoyed spending time with her. She already considered me the daughter she never had and told me so often. She gave Christian and me a lot of freedom now that we were both out of high school, never batting an eye if she saw my car in the driveway overnight or if we were out all night.

“Hi, Mrs. Kirkpatrick!” I greeted the woman, who was in the kitchen mixing a meatloaf together.

“Oh, Jillian dear. I didn’t know you were coming over today. It’s so nice to see you. Are you staying for dinner?” She leaned over, giving me a kiss on the cheek, careful not to let any of the goo from her hands transfer to me.

“No, thank you. I only came over for a few minutes to spend some time with Christian, but he’s practicing again.” I stole an Oreo from the jar and sat at the counter watching Christian’s mom crack eggs and mix the slime into the meat.

“Ah, and he doesn’t even know you left, does he?”

I sighed. “No, I doubt he does. You know how he gets, all wrapped up in his music.”

Mrs. Kirkpatrick rolled her eyes. “That boy drives me crazy. I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s twenty-two years old, has never left the South, and yet still thinks he’s going to ‘make it big’ with that damn music of his. That boy has put me through the wringer growing up. And after his brother…” she trailed off. After a moment, she shook off whatever thoughts she had and continued. “I feared he’d turn out the same. I thank God every day he found you. I swear you’re the one thing holdin’ him together.”

I smiled, reaching for a second cookie, and poured myself a small glass of milk. “He loves me. And he really is tryin’ to be the person I know he can be.”

“Sweetheart, I carried that child for nine months, taught him his ABC’s and how to drive, and gave him more love than I knew I had in me. But I’ve just about worn out my patience with him growin’ up. I hoped with you goin’ away to college, he’d want to join you. And when that didn’t happen, I thought he’d at least start wanting to find a place of his own. But if that child,” she pointed her wooden spatula at the garage door, “doesn’t get a real job and some motivation to be an adult soon, I’m going to have to put him over my knee like when he was six.”

We both started laughing, only stopping when a slamming of the door caused us to jump.

“Hey, there are my two favorite girls.” Christian brushed a kiss on my cheek before grabbing two cookies and heading to the fridge for milk. “Dinner almost ready, Ma? I’m famished!”

“In about an hour. Why don’t you go take Jillian here on a nice, romantic walk? The sunset is beautiful tonight.”

I hopped off my stool and rinsed out my milk glass, placing it in the strainer. “Actually, I need to get going. My mom expected me a half hour ago. We’re going to my grandma’s tonight to help her pack up some things since she’s movin’ over to Savannah in a few weeks, and I want to spend as much time with her as possible before then.” I turned to Christian, grabbing his hand in mine. “Walk me to my car?”

“Sure.”

We linked our fingers together, swinging our arms slightly as we walked. Neither of us spoke until we reached the car.

“Hey,” Christian stepped closer, pinning me to the car and nuzzling my neck. “Wanna ditch work with me tomorrow and take a drive out to our spot?”

I closed my eyes, trying to ignite the same passion with Christian I had felt in my dream from the other night. I tilted my head back to give him more access to my neck, and he eagerly began to kiss his way down while his hands quickly slid under my shirt. I closed my eyes to enjoy the moment, but all I felt was annoyance that his jagged fingernails were scratching into my skin.

“You know I can’t ditch work. I just started today.” I pulled his hands out from under my shirt and placed them around my neck, but he pulled back.

“Come on, we haven’t had a whole day alone to ourselves in weeks.” He pressed up against me, his hot breath against my cheek. “I’m tired of sneaking a few hours here and there. I miss you, baby.”

“I was here two nights ago,” I reminded him, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I could smell in his hair that he’d been smoking up and getting high again, and it made me a little queasy. I leaned against his chest, irritated. “And maybe if you spent more time with me than your so-called band, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Christian took a few steps backward and threw up his hands. “Oh great, here we go again.”

“And you’re smoking pot again? After everything you went through when your mom found that dime bag and threatened to kick you out?”

“It was one joint with the guys. One. I needed my mind to relax so I could write. I’m not going to start up again.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’ve had a really bad day, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and opened the car door. “I’m going to go home. After I come back from Gamma’s, I’m going take a long bath and go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Christian shook his head, closing the car door. “How about we go camping next weekend? Just you and me—alone for seventy-two hours?”

I hated camping—the bugs and sore back from sleeping in a tent—but with the way his eyes were lit up with hope, I couldn’t say no.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

Laying in the bathtub three hours later, I tried to lose myself in the memories of when I first started dating Christian: the way he made me shiver with just one glance of his crooked smile, or the way my body ignited when his lips were on mine. But every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts drifted to the dream, and my heartbeat picked up its pace.

Maybe I’ll go to sleep early, see if I have any more dreams.

CHAPTER FIVE

Seventeen hours. That’s how long I’d been staring at this damn computer screen. My ass was numb, my eyes burned, begging me to take my contacts out, my stomach was screaming at me to eat something, and my blood was pumping so much caffeine I might as well have inserted an IV directly into the vein. I stood and stretched. My weary sigh was the only sound this hour of the night besides the hum of the server in the next room.

Every other employee had gone home to live their lives and be with their families hours ago. I was the single putz who remained. JT had gone home at ten, claiming his mom needed help. It was bullshit, and he was probably somewhere getting laid right now, but I couldn’t hold it against him. At this point—as pathetic as it was—I was living vicariously through him and I knew he’d share all the details with me tomorrow. At least one of us was getting some.

But the code was done, and, knock-on-wood, it was working. It was one in the morning, and I wanted nothing more than to hit the Wendy’s late-night drive through and crash on the couch to my Tivo’ed episodes of Tosh.O and pass out.

I walked a few steps toward the bathroom to take a piss, shocked by how heavy my body felt. Practice in the morning was going to be brutal. Being sedentary for so long killed me, and I had a crew competition in a few weeks that, at this rate, I’d never be ready for.

After returning to my desk, I was ready to call it a night and power everything down when I saw the little envelope icon on the bottom right of my screen. I’d neglected to check my emails for most of the day, wrapped up and absorbed in coding. I knew I needed to at least check them now and make sure there was nothing that needed my immediate attention tonight.

Scanning through the barrage that could all wait until tomorrow, I noticed I had five messages from Connie, each with a title more frantic than the last.

“New employee setup?”

“Have you completed this yet?”

“Why isn’t the NE SU done yet?”

“Grant–are you ignoring me?”

“We need to talk.”

Well, fuck. I’d been so absorbed in my project that I’d totally forgotten about the setup I promised Connie I’d do. I scrubbed the back of my neck with my hand to keep from punching the screen. This was ridiculous. There were a half-dozen other people working in the department who could have taken the ten minutes necessary to do the setup, all of whom worked below me. I went to Carnegie Mellon University, graduated with honors, practically ran this division, and my coding kept these systems operational. Why the fuck was Connie fixated on me doing the setup when anyone else easily could have? I practically ran the department while most of the other assholes I worked with probably didn’t do shit today, other than sneaking around the content blocker to check their Facebook pages or watch porn on their iPads. I could hear my teeth grinding, something I only did when really pissed, and tried to take a breath to calm myself.

This was bullshit. I hadn’t even met this girl yet, and already she was on my bad side. She got Mommy to call in favors ‘cause she couldn’t get a job on her own, and now Connie expected me to jump to her aid the second she waltzed through the doors? Oh, hell no. This spoiled little sorority bitch could wait her god-damned turn like everyone else at this company.

Kicking out my chair, I heard it crash into the desk behind me as I hit reply to the last message Connie sent me. She may have been the senior administrative assistant, but she wasn’t my boss, and I wasn’t going to take shit from her for doing what I was actually supposed to be doing today.

After typing out a rant, I paced the room for five minutes trying to calm down, and then read over it again before hitting send. Shit. Now I was the asshole. I deleted everything and went for simple and succinct.

“Another project took priority. Will be in late tomorrow, but will do the set up first thing when I get in. –G”

I hit send and powered down before gathering my keys and walking out, mindful to set the alarm before I went. All during my drive home, and even as I ate my spicy chicken sandwich and slurped down my Frostie while laughing along with the ridiculous videos Tosh presented, my mind wouldn’t relax. I couldn’t stop thinking about this yet-to-be-seen girl who had charmed Connie, seduced JT, and made me so pissed I began grinding my teeth again after five years with a mouth guard to stop the bad habit from my childhood. She was under my skin, and not in a good way.

Well, one thing was for sure: I wouldn’t fall into the same trap as everyone else. This girl was nothing but trouble.

CHAPTER SIX

“I see we didn’t scare you off after your first day,” Connie greeted me. I clutched my to-go coffee cup as I walked through the front doors and furrowed my brows.

Am I late? Was she waiting for me?

When I finally had made it home last night, my mother never mentioned hearing from Connie, so I assumed I wasn’t fired yet. Not that I had much hope of surviving the week, but at least I lived to see another day.

I woke up with the sunrise; my nerves had prevented me from settling into a deep sleep for most of the night. I decided to go for an early-morning run along the beach to de-stress. The whole time I ran, I repeated the mantra, “I can do this, I can do this.” It worked like magic, and now I had half-deluded myself into thinking I was ready to face the day.

I smiled at Connie, hoping my grin would convince her—and me. “Oh, it was fine. No problems at all.”

I couldn’t very well admit I sucked big time at this job. If Connie hadn’t heard I was a colossal screw-up by now, I’d have another day to prove myself so I didn’t get fired. I needed the money to pay for books this fall, and I couldn’t stand to see my mother’s face if I did get canned.

“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re catching on so quickly.” She paused, pursing her lips like she was sucking on something sour. “IT said they were sorry they didn’t get to you yesterday, but they’d be by first thing this morning to hook up your computer and get you your login information so you can get started. Afterwards, I’ll have the girls up front know you’re ready to answer the calls on your own.” She patted me on the back, smiling widely with confidence I wished I shared.

As I settled into my cubicle and put on my headset, I let out a deep breath and prepared for another long day.

I slept like shit. My late-night dinner had given me mild heartburn. I tossed and turned, knowing I had to get up early. My coxswain would kill me if I showed up late to practice. My crew team had its first meet of the season in a few weeks, which could qualify us for the National Championship, so I needed to be in top condition.

The alarm on my phone jolted me awake, still in my clothes, spun sideways on the bed with my head and one socked foot hanging off each side. I really needed to change my ringtone. Hearing Cartman from South Park screaming, “Oh my God! They killed Kenny! Get out of bed!” was no longer funny at the butt-crack of dawn. My head was throbbing, so I downed four aspirin and a bottle of Gatorade before I took a scalding hot shower to wake myself up.

I met my team at the marina by the Lanier Bridge, which crossed the Brunswick River. We were still waiting on JT, who was notoriously late but usually brought donuts.

“What’s up, Grant? Haven’t seen you around much,” my coxswain, Luca, asked. He was a grad student as well, studying political science. I’d known this group of guys since I started my graduate work. We were like our own fraternity, and while I loved them like brothers, I’d barely seen them during the off season.

“Yeah, I’ve been crazy busy at work. And stuff with my dad has been keepin’ me busy.”

“That sucks, dude. You should come up to campus with us this weekend, we’re having a mixer with the TAs from the Humanities department. Do you remember how drunk Dr. Ulin’s TA Becky got last year? I believe there were lampshades and a goat involved by the end of the night.”

I spit out the sip of Gatorade I’d just sipped. “I forgot all about that. What did they call her for the rest of the year? Baaaa-cky? God, even her students called her that, poor girl.”

“Yeah, she swore she’d never drink again after that night. Tequila shooters starting at noon will do that I guess. So are you gonna come?”

“You might just see me there. C’mon, let’s get this boat in the water. I need to be at work in an hour.”

Luca called the crew together once JT finally showed up, and I took my spot in the sixth position. I’d rowed several different types of boats as an undergrad, but now I only had time for the eight-man sweep team, which was a personal favorite anyway. We rowed it twice this morning, once up and once back, our time improving slightly the second go-round. The workout was exactly what I needed. A steady course of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and with a second shower, I strolled into my office a new man forty-five minutes later.

I booted up the three desktop computers that controlled multiple servers in my office and opened up my laptop. It pinged repeatedly with flagged messages titled “help” or “I don’t know what I did wrong.” I minimized the browser instead and went in search of coffee. I could already tell it was a double espresso type of day.

When I returned, I checked to make sure my algorithm was still working and not reporting any errors and quickly scanned my emails. I had several new ones, but only one caught my eye. It was from Connie and contained only three words: Please do so.

Awesome. Not even ten o’clock and I want to strangle someone. Fuckin’ fantastic.

I stormed out of my office, determined to get this ridiculous task and ridiculous girl out of the way so I could get back to what really mattered. I darted toward the sales team cubicles, knowing she most likely would have occupied one of the empty ones in the back corner.

I turned left, walked ten steps, and stopped. There, bent over with long, wavy hair cascading over her currently upside-down head, was a woman. She was bent in half, mumbling incoherent things while her long, slender fingers searched the floor for some escaped item. I couldn’t help but smile, seeing her trying to balance her bottom half on the chair while her top half threatened to topple to the floor. Her hair veiled half of her face, but the sliver I was able to view only caused me to want to see more.

She was beautiful. Some girls are girl-next-door pretty, some model hot, some sex-kitten sexy. But to be beautiful, it took a combination of all three. This girl had it in spades.

My feet moved forward a few steps before I even realized it, but I didn’t fully approach. I walked just close enough to make out the sweet resonance of her currently frustrated voice.

“Damn you, get back here. Shoot!” She leaned even further over in her chair, raising the back wheels off the ground as they threatened to tip over. I wanted to take a step forward and wrap my hands around her waist to hold her steady, maybe swipe my thumbs across the inch of flesh exposed at her back where her shirt had risen up. I imagined how soft it would be, that smooth, creamy skin, and I began to harden.

Well, fuck. I couldn’t go over there now. I’d come off as some sort of creeper introducing myself with half wood. I took a few steps back and ducked into an empty cubicle while I adjusted myself. Was this the new girl JT had told me about? The one Connie kept yelling at me about and caused me such a headache? My mind wanted to hate her, but my body had other plans. I was drawn to her. I wanted to know more about her.

“Please be a ditz. Please let whatever comes out of your mouth make me forget how beautiful your body is,” I whispered under my breath.

She dropped to her knees as she crawled further under the desk. Her perfect ass swayed in the air, hypnotizing me. I was like a moth being drawn toward a flame.

This was definitely not in The Plan.

A tap on my shoulder startled me. Swiveling my chair around, a man was smiling down at me. He looked to be about my age—maybe a few years older—with sandy blond hair and an eyebrow ring that gleamed in the reflection of a nearby mirror. His wide smile revealed matching dimples on either side of his tanned face. I nervously fumbled with my headset, taking it off and standing up to say hello. He was probably around six feet tall, but standing next to him, my five-foot six-inch frame felt tiny.

“Hi. You must be Jillian. I’m Grant, from IT. I’m here for your hook-up.”

He reached out to shake my hand, and my breath hitched a little. While not Damon Salvatore or Eric Northman hot, he was certainly attractive. There was something about him that drew me in, and I couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was. He wore a pair of khaki pants that were frayed at the bottom and Vans. His green Polo shirt matched his eyes, which crinkled slightly as he smiled at me behind hipster black-framed glasses. I could tell he was the kind of kid who was nerdy in high school, but really came into his own now that he was in his twenties.

Boy, did he, I thought as I tried to nonchalantly take in his chiseled arms and broad shoulders. He wasn’t the usual type I went all lusty over, but my now-racing heart seemed to have other ideas.

“You’re here so we can hook up? Uh, I mean, um, hook up the computer?”

He chuckled at the Freudian slip and released my hand before taking a step closer. “Yes, I’m going to get you up and running.”

Oh, I’m up and running all right, I thought wickedly. But a sudden and sharp pang of guilt slapped at me. No, I have a boyfriend. This is ridiculous. So what if he’s cute? I love Christian, and I shouldn’t be flirting with this guy.

“Okay, thanks. Um, I’ll move out of your way and let you work.” I tried to move around him, but with the small confines of the cubicle, I couldn’t help but brush up against his hard chest. All the hair on my arm and neck stood on end, like those experiments I used to do as a kid with a balloon. This was more than static electricity that passed between us. It was exhilarating.

“So, you’re new here. Just here for the summer, I’m assuming?” Grant asked as his fingers typed a series of complex codes on my screen too complicated for me to understand.

“Yeah, until the fall semester starts up.” I pulled at a hangnail and tried not to stare at him.

“What year are you?”

Focusing on keeping my thoughts off how nice he smelled, I didn’t hear what he said. “I’m majoring in linguistics. I want to be an interpreter for the United Nations.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.” He stopped working, turning his face toward me, surprise evident in his expression. Before I could question it, he smiled again, and an intense heat and no doubt a blush to match flooded my face.

Damn it! Dimples and green eyes are my kryptonite. Not fair!

“No, not really. Languages just come easily to me. Really, I’m pretty terrible at a lot of other things. Like computers, for example. HTML is a language I never could master.”

Grant cleared his throat and resumed typing. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Only three right now: Italian, French, and Spanish. But I’m learning Russian and Mandarin too, and hoping to be fluent by the time I graduate. Maybe even do a study abroad to immerse myself in the language.”

“Your parents must be very proud of you.” Grant finished the coding and logged off the computer.

“Yeah, my mom brags about it like I’m going to be the president or something. It’s silly. I want to translate words, not dictate policy.”

Grant stood and took a single step toward me again. Knowing—and anticipating—I was going to be able to touch him again, I added hastily, “And my boyfriend. He’s super proud of me, too. He’s wonderful, and I love him very much.”

Grant’s eyes widened at my admission and quirked his head to the side, as if in thought. Then he shook his head and smiled, almost in relief, as he packed up his things.

“It was very nice meeting you, Jillian.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I felt stupid for blurting that out. Clearly, I was losing my mind.

As Grant exited the cubicle, his chest brushed against mine and I jumped away, already feeling my nipples harden and thanking God I’d worn a padded bra. His arm reached out and caught my elbow to steady me. His touch was like striking flint: hot, explosive and all-consuming. I lost my balance again, stumbling forward to try and sit in the chair.

“Are you okay?” Grant asked, helping to lower me into the seat. He leaned in close, and I got another whiff of his amazing scent. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m fine. Sorry. I am not used to these heels yet. I’m more of a sneakers kind of girl.” I don’t think he bought the lie. I was mortified. I had made a complete fool out of myself.

“Well, just be careful. I wouldn’t want to see that pretty face get hurt.” I kept my head down, nodding as I bit my lip. I hoped the pain would distract me enough to not cry—at least in front of him.

“I’ll see you around, Jillian. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, reaching for my headphones to answer the barrage of blinking lights. Even if I sucked at it, I needed the distraction from replaying the disaster that just happened over and over in my head.

“Thank you for calling the Allegro Corporation. This is Jillian in sales, how can I direct your call?”

By the time I dared a glance behind me, he was gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Boyfriend.

She had a boyfriend. This was good news, right? I didn’t want to be with her. I didn’t have the time; she wasn’t part of my plan.

So why did it feel like I’d gotten sucker punched?

And why did she have to be smart on top of everything? It would be so much easier to forget she ever existed if she couldn’t string two sentences together. No, this girl could string them—in multiple languages! It made me wonder what else she was good at, what she liked, if she ever traveled to the places she studied.

I accomplished next to nothing for the rest of the day. Or the following day. I couldn’t seem to concentrate on any of my current projects and instead filled my time doing mindless tasks. I kept hoping I’d run into her in the halls, making extra trips to the bathroom or break room for coffee. Even rowing didn’t take my mind off of her. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

JT had been right, and I could see why so many of the guys in the office had been talking about her all week. She was—I couldn’t even put it in words. She had what the French called “je ne sais quoi”—that certain something.

I laughed at the irony that out of all the people in this office, she was probably one of the few who would even know what the phrase meant. I hadn’t expected her to have the intelligence that matched her beauty. It made it that much harder to forget about her. And I wanted to forget about her. I tried to forget about her.

I couldn’t forget about her. Her beauty, wit, and charm wormed its way into me like a virus.

Late the following morning, my office line lit up, indicating an incoming call. The caller ID revealed it was Jillian. Hesitant to pick up, I let it go to voicemail. As soon as my phone blinked red, indicating I had a message, I quickly snatched up the headset and listened to the message. Twice.

“Um, hi. Grant? Did I call the right extension? God, I hope I’m not accidentally calling the CEO or something. Anyway, this is Jillian, the new girl you helped yesterday? I seemed to have screwed something up and was hoping you could come over for a few minutes and take a look at it. Unless this is the CEO, in which case this is Tempera

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 902