Right (Wrong 2)
“Hey, it’s all fun and games now, but who do you come to when you want to know if it’s normal for a guy to come in under a minute?” I point to myself. “Me. That’s who.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Now”—I turn my attention to Sandra—“why are you two hiding in the bathroom?”
“We’re not hiding,” she says, slumping on the sofa. “We’re just sitting for a minute.”
“Come on.” I step forward and hold out my hands to each of them. “Get up.” I pull them up and then stop at the mirror next to the door to freshen my lipstick and smooth out my hair. “I didn’t get you all sexed up to hide in the bathroom. Let’s go get Gabe.”
Thirty-Seven
We exit the bathroom. Sawyer leans against the banister surrounding the rotunda behind him, speaking with a couple of people I don’t recognize.
“I’ll meet you guys in the game room,” I say, nodding to the room next door that’s set up with video games. Then I slide in next to Sawyer, his arm going around my waist the moment I’m close enough. He introduces me to a couple of guys I won’t remember in an hour as I spy Gabe at the bar.
“I need a drink,” I tell Sawyer as soon as the guys leave our sides, keeping Gabe in my line of sight.
“I’m sure,” he replies dryly. But he doesn’t fight me on it, instead walks me straight over to Gabe, standing at a tall table near the bar with a brunette. She needs to go, obviously.
The guys shake hands and I immediately see the ease between them. They’re friends, I realize. I give Sawyer a little side-eye glare. He could have provided me with this information earlier.
“You’ve met my girlfriend?” He nods to Gabe and introduces me to the brunette. I’m given her name at this point but I promptly forget it. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but no. She needs to find someone who is not Gabe.
The guys delve into sports talk while I drum my fingers on the tabletop, strategizing. “How long have you two known each other?” I interrupt when I catch something about rowing come into the conversation.
“Since Harvard,” Gabe replies. “Roommates,”
“Uh-huh,” I respond. I flick my eyes over to Sawyer and he smiles.
I smile back as I pull my phone from my dress pocket. “Oh,” I say, frowning at the screen. “Oh, my.” I hold a hand over my mouth in faux shock and flash wide eyes at the table, catching the amused expression on Sawyer’s face as he waits for whatever stunt I’m about to pull.
“Sandra isn’t feeling well,” I announce. “Headache. Gabe”—I turn to him, placing my arm on his sleeve, eyes imploring—“could you drive her home?”
His eyes widen in surprise at my audacity, then he grins, glancing towards the room that Sandra went into a few minutes ago. The glance is so brief I almost miss it. Then his eyes are back on mine and he rubs his fingertips across his temple. “Sure, sure,” he agrees, then a moment later, “She needs a ride?” he asks, even though he’s just agreed to give her one.
I nod with what I hope is an earnest expression. “She does.” Then I type out a rapid text to Sandra, informing her she has a headache and Gabe is driving her home.
A flash of annoyance crosses the brunette’s face as she realizes any plans she had for seduction tonight will not be realized. Her eyes take one last hungry sweep over Gabe before she excuses herself. Bye, Felicia.
“Hey, remind me to update you when we’re back in the office,” Gabe says, nodding to Sawyer as he turns towards the room Sandra last went into. “Our guy has a new lead in Los Angeles. He thinks he’s close.”