Fling (Wrong 2.5)

5) Does this person know that you want to have sex with him?

Preston kicks me and I sigh, but I pick up my pen.

1) 5

2) Gabe Laurent

3) All

4) Maybe?

5) No!!!

“Sandra?”

I look up at my name being called to find my boss, Sawyer, at the end of the aisle. I rise and make my way over to him to see what he needs.

“Has Wilson given you an answer yet on the dates for the Berlin launch?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Would you step out and give them a call?” he instructs. “Tell them we need an answer by the end of the day if they want it in time for the second fiscal quarter.”

“Of course,” I reply, already nodding. “I’ll take care of it now.”

“Thanks, Sandra,” he says with a nod as he moves back to his seat in the front row and I slip quietly out the auditorium door. I roll my shoulders and enjoy the silence of the hallway after being cooped up in meetings all morning. It feels good to decompress a little as I take the elevator up to my desk. I make the call, get the answers Sawyer needs, send him an update via email and then head back to the meeting just as they break for lunch.

Preston exits the room as I reach the door, grabbing my arm and steering me back to the elevators. “Food, now,” he demands. “I’m starving.”

“You ate two blueberry muffins during the meeting,” I point out.

He shrugs. “I worked out this morning, I needed the fuel.”

“You never work out in the morning. You barely make it to work on time every day.”

“Sex, Sandra. Sex was my workout,” he says, jabbing the down button with his finger. “Liam’s trying to knock me up.”

“Um?” I blurt out, surprised. Preston is a gay man, so it doesn’t exactly work that way.

“We’re starting the adoption process.” Preston laughs. “But why should we be denied the fun part?” He continues without waiting for an answer. “We’re on a five-year plan. Well, a twenty-year plan, really. We want two kids before we’re forty so they’re in college before we’re sixty. Then we can travel to all the places we want to see before we get too old.”

Wow. Preston’s only three years older than me and he’s got his whole life figured out. He met Liam at twenty-five and they married a year later in what was the best wedding ever, in his words. I wasn’t there—the event happening prior to us having met—but I have seen the wedding. It was featured on one of those wedding reality shows that I used to love watching. And he’s not wrong, it was a pretty great wedding. Anyway, Preston’s got it all figured out and I’m buying frozen single-serve meals.

At twenty-six I’m satisfied in my job, fulfilled even, but my personal life is nowhere near satisfying. I moved to Philadelphia from Delaware two years ago when I got the job at Clemens Corporation. I was grateful to get away from home. I needed to, and Philadelphia was an ideal place to start again.

I dove in, finding an apartment and jumping into dating life in a new city. Yet two years later I’m alone.

Alone and secretly pining for Gabe Laurent.

It’s stupid. He is so outta my league.

Preston and I hit the employee cafeteria, along with everyone else. It’s free, one of the many perks of working at Clemens. We chat about the holidays and my plans to head to Delaware for Christmas Day and Preston’s plans to visit his parents in Los Angeles with Liam.

“Are you sure you can’t come back from LA early so you don’t miss the company New Year’s Eve party?” I ask. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“That’s true, but no. I’m not returning to this weather a day earlier than necessary.”

I sigh good-naturedly, understanding. We finish lunch and clear our trays then head back to the auditorium for the afternoon session.

“Wake me up if I fall asleep,” Preston tells me, dropping into his chair. “I shouldn’t have had carbs at lunch,” he adds with a yawn.

“I’m on it,” I assure him as I straighten the papers in front of me and ready myself for the afternoon session. I look up in time to see Gabe walk through the door. It’s like I have a Spidey sense when he’s around. My eyes are always in the right place at the right time when it comes to Gabe.

He’s wearing charcoal dress pants today and a blue sweater. It looks like cashmere. I’d kill to run my fingers over it and find out, I think as one of the interns from marketing hands him a stack of papers. The surveys from this morning’s meetings, it looks like. I glance down at my stack of papers, looking for mine. Oh, shoot, I hope mine’s in there. I worked really hard on giving thoughtful detailed answers.

“Did they collect the surveys before lunch?” I ask Preston, glancing in his direction.

He looks up from his phone with a shake of his head. “Nope. They probably collected them while we were at lunch.”

“Oh, okay, good. Mine should be in there then,” I say, checking and finding it missing from my stack. I left it on top, didn’t I? I flip through my papers just to make sure it got collected. I didn’t realize they’d be going to Gabe, so I’m extra glad I was so thorough with my answers.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

“Preston!” I hiss in panic as my mind races. That crazy sex quiz he made up. Where did I leave that? I had it in my hand, then Sawyer asked me to make that call…

“What?” Preston asks, setting his phone down and checking the meeting agenda to see who’s on next.

“Where’s that quiz you made up? Do you have it?” I’m shaking as I flip through the papers before me one more time.

“No, you never gave it back to me.”

“I know, but you didn’t pick it up again? After I left? Are you sure?” I’m in full panic mode.

“No, Sandy. I don’t have it,” he says slowly, shaking his head. “I wrote it on the back of my survey. They must have picked it up when they collected them.”

I’m positive all the blood must drain from my face because Preston’s eyes widen and he sits up in his chair. “It’s fine. Your name wasn’t on it. The surveys were anonymous, remember? My name isn’t on it either.”