“I work with a myriad of disguises,” I joked again, trying to divert the attention as much away from my job as possible. “But what about you? What is it that you—”
But Cameron was on a roll.
“My father hired a public relations team for our company once,” he continued, utterly oblivious to my attempts. “Not one of them looked anything like you.”
Great. This guy was probably a trust fund baby, just like all the rest. I should have picked up on it. The restaurant. The wine. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to leave here with a job offer.
“I guess that explains the phone. They were always impossibly busy.”
Again—the damn thing buzzed in my bag. I kicked it under the table.
His face twisted up into a little smile.
“Do you need to take that?”
“No,” I said quickly, reaching for my glass of wine, “not at all. I’m off tonight.”
...we’ll see.
“Good—then I get you all to myself.” He clinked his glass against mine, a row of perfect teeth sparkling in the soft lamplight. “To chance encounters. May they always—”
Now both phones were buzzing. Egging each other on as my purse began to shake.
My smile tightened, but I deliberately ignored them—locking eyes with Cameron.
Keep talking, buddy. Just keep talking.
In his defense, he really did try.
“May they always—”
A third phone added to the clamor. Between the three of them, we were starting to draw a bit of attention. It looked like they were trying to shake their way out of my bag.
“You really can answer,” he said graciously. “I don’t mind.”
That’s sweet, but this little social experiment is hardly about you.
“No,” I said firmly—more firmly than was required. “This is my night off. Everyone knows it. There was a memo, for fuck’s sake. They’ll just have to get by—”
The fourth and final phone made a loud entrance into the fray. This one actually didn’t have a vibrate setting—as it was only meant to be used for emergency calls. A digitalized song cut the air between us, ruining Cameron’s attempted toast once and for all.
‘It’s raining men! Hallelujah! It’s raining men—’
“There’s that ringtone...”
“I’m so sorry!” I reached hastily down into my purse and began snapping them off, one by one. “It’s usually not like this—I swear.”
Work life—private life. Work life—private life. I chanted the mantra desperately in my head as the phones fought back. There has to be a line! I deserve a fucking line, dammit!
Cameron nodded politely, looking like he didn’t believe me in the slightest.
“Sure.”
I turned the last one off—removing the SIM cards for good measure—and the infuriating buzzing finally stopped. Before the poor guy could get up and walk away, I reached for his hands, holding on like a life raft.
“Now,” I pulled in a determined breath, “you were saying?”
That’s when the fifth phone rang.