The Design

by R.S. Grey

  “Hello?” I asked hesitantly.

  “There you are slutasaurus rex. You didn’t answer your cell phone so I thought I’d try you at work.”

  Brooklyn. Oh, thank God.

  “Is that annoying boss beside you right now? Is that why you aren’t talking?” Brooklyn asked when I didn’t respond.

  I peered over at Alan from beneath my lashes and slyly lowered the receiver volume a few notches.

  “Oh hello, Mr. Duncan,” I spoke on a whim. Mr. Duncan? I didn’t know a single person with the last name Duncan.

  Brooklyn laughed.

  “Cough once if you want me to kill him. Cough twice if you want me to get Jason to kill him.”

  “I'm not sure about either of those options, Mr. Duncan,” I droned, peering over again to see if Alan could hear her.

  “Sorry, those are your only choices. Oh, wait, hold on.” I heard Jason mumbling in the background and then Brooklyn dropped the phone into a box of tin foil—or so I assumed since it felt like my ears were were going to fall off from the loud scraping sounds.

  “What are you doing? Jeez, that’s so loud.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m doing the dishes. Jason wanted me to ask you about going to get a drink tonight. Could you come after work?”

  I glanced down at my pile of work and sighed. The work would be waiting for me tomorrow. I deserved a night of fun and I hadn’t seen Brooklyn in a few days.

  “Yeah, just send me the details.”

  I hung up the phone as inconspicuously as possible. Alan cleared this throat.

  “Was that a personal call, Cammie?” he asked with a shrewd glance.

  I had a brief moment of panic before composing myself. “Yes. It was my gynecologist. He wanted to discuss my latest pap smear. Do you want to know how the cells on my cervix are doing?”

  Alan visibly blanched, as most guys tend to do at the mention of the dreaded pap.

  “No. That’s all right. Just get back to work.”

  “Okay, but I can’t stay late tonight. I have another pap smear after work.”

  He grumbled and nodded, scooting a half inch away from me.

  Well that was easy.

  How many pap smears could one person conceivably get in one month? Fifteen, twenty? "Dammit, inconclusive again! Well Alan, it looks like it's just pap smears through June."

  …

  Later that afternoon, I asked Beatrice if Grayson was available. His office door was closed and he was probably deep into his design work, but I hadn’t seen him all day. I just needed a few minutes, just to assure myself that whatever was happening between us wasn’t over yet. A vision of our lunch the day before flashed through my mind and I blushed.

  “Oh, let me see,” she answered, picking up her phone and buzzing through to him.

  “Mr. Cole do you have a moment?”

  I couldn’t hear what he asked on the other end, but she looked up at me and replied, “Cammie.”

  I twisted my hands together, knowing I wouldn’t handle his rejection well, but then Beatrice hung up and waved me forward.

  “Go on back,” she said with a smile before turning back to her work.

  I stepped forward and turned the knob, aware of my pulse thumping wildly as I pushed the door open. Grayson was behind his desk, encased in the light streaming through the window behind him. His lips were twisted into a smirk that did nothing but pull me in closer.

  I made sure the door was secured behind me, twisting the lock so that the audible click punctuated Grayson’s steps toward me.

  “I was just about to ask you to come in,” Grayson said as he approached me. One hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and the other tilted my head so that he could dip down to steal a quick kiss.

  Was he going to touch me in his office, where anyone could hear us?

  His confidence took me by surprise, but I let him pull me closer until our hips met and I could wrap my hands around his neck.

  “I haven’t seen you all day and I wasn’t sure how busy you were,” I spoke as our eyes met.

  He smiled and bent to kiss me again before replying, “Very busy.”

  I hummed against his chest and inhaled the scent I’d come to love. His suit was softer than I expected and I could feel his toned arms beneath, keeping me pinned against him.

  “I’m busy too. The CEO here is a real tyrant,” I said with a cheeky smile.

  He chuckled and let me go, taking a step back to lean against his desk. His eyes slid down my body and I felt far too exposed in my fitted pants and jacket.

  “I’m going to get drinks with Brooklyn and Jason tonight,” I blurted out. I wanted him to come, but we were in that gray area that accompanies situations like ours. I couldn’t just come out and tell him that I wanted to see him later because that’d be too obvious. I had to make it seem casual so that I could try to hold my cards close for as long as possible.

  He nodded and crossed his arms. “What time?”

  “Six.”

  Ask if you can join. Ask if you can join.

  “Should be fun. Jason’s a good guy.”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  I nodded and took a minuscule step closer.

  “Why don’t you come with us?”

  I wondered if he heard how shaky my voice sounded.

  He smiled. “I’d like that.”

  I bit down on the side of my bottom lip, elated that he hadn’t turned me down.

  “Does Brooklyn know about us?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “No. Should she?”

  He shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure I played it right.”

  I took a minute to mull over our options and then I came to the conclusion that telling Brooklyn about us this early would be a bad idea. Surely she’d have her own opinions about us, but I was still trying to figure out where we stood on my own. I didn’t need her influencing anything yet.

  “So, it’ll just be a friendly happy hour,” I said with suggestive smile.

  He reached out and dipped his finger into the waist of my pants so that he could pull me toward him. I had no choice but to comply or I’d have tripped forward over my feet.

  “What if I can’t fake it later?” he asked, letting his hands drift up to my bare neck.

  I closed my eyes and tried to come up with a response. Voices from the office drifted through the door and goose bumps blossomed beneath his touch. His left hand trailed up around my chin and brushed a few tendrils of hair behind my ear.

  “Maybe we should kiss right now and get it out of our system,” I suggested selfishly.

  He laughed. “Somehow I don’t think a kiss would do it.”

  I opened my eyes and took a step backward.

  “You’re right, I'd better just get back to work,” I said.

  Grayson laughed and reached out for me again, twisting us around so that the back of my thighs pressed against his desk. He pinned me there, held my neck, and dipped me backward.

  I twined my fingers together around his neck to keep from falling back as he kissed me and slipped his hand beneath the hem of my blouse. My stomach quivered as he skimmed over my bare stomach, blazing a trail of desire as he went.

  “Grayson!” The intercom speakers blared through the room and I jumped away from him. “You have a meeting with Walters in fifteen minutes. If you leave now, it’ll take you about ten minutes to get to his office.”

  The intercom cut off but my face still heated as if Beatrice had actually walked in and caught us in the act.

  “Oh God, that kiss was a terrible, terrible idea,” I said, pushing him away so that I could straighten my blouse and pants.

  He laughed and shook his head, already en route to a small bathroom to the side of his office.

  “I like playing with fire,” he said, meeting my eye in the mirror. "And I don't have any intention of stopping."

  I watched him straighten his tie and suit jacket in the mirror. Every single one of his features was sharp and ready to de
liver a killer presentation. His pants however were sporting a noticeable bulge, one he needed to attend to if he hoped to walk through the office without causing a scene. I smiled at the knowledge that I’d been the cause of it.

  “You have my number, right?” Grayson asked, reaching down to splash some water on his face and then dabbing it dry with a hand towel.

  “I stole it from Brooklyn’s phone a while back,” I admitted.

  And by “a while back”, I mean when I was eighteen.

  “Good,” he said, coming out of the bathroom and collecting a few papers from his desk. “Text me the info for drinks. I’ll be there.”

  …

  “Have a good meeting with Grayson?” Hannah asked as I refilled my coffee in the kitchen an hour later. Since leaving Grayson’s office I’d been very productive: I’d managed to check an email, pick up the phone only to forget who I was meant to be calling, and then sip two cups of coffee while recreating our various make outs in my head.

  I glanced up at Hannah with a confused glance.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess the meeting was good.” I was hoping I sounded nonchalant, but the words came out more defensive than I’d intended.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You know he doesn’t have meetings like that with anyone else. You must be pretty special.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into it,” I shrugged. "It's boring mentor-mentee stuff, just like your meetings with Alan."

  Hannah stepped closer so that she could reach for a mug of her own. The fact that I had to quickly duck so that the cabinet door wouldn’t whack me in the face didn’t faze her.

  “Well it seems funny, because I tried to schedule a meeting with him yesterday and Beatrice said he wasn’t available for a few days, yet you just waltz right up to his office and he lets you in. Strange, right?”

  I set my mug down on the counter, crossed my arms, and turned to Hannah.

  “What are you getting at, Hannah? Just say what you want to say.”

  Her stern expression broke into a smile, a deviously placated smile. “What?” She laughed. “I was just wondering if there was anything you wanted to tell me. Y'know, as roomies.”

  I shivered at the way she said roomie. We’d only lived together for a few weeks, and I hadn’t seen this side of her. I thought her attraction for Grayson was a silly crush, but as she stared at me from over her coffee mug, I had a feeling I’d underestimated her obsession with him.

  I’d definitely be locking my door from now on.

  I offered her a fake smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Grayson is my sister’s friend and that’s probably why he doesn't mind meeting with me. He doesn’t want to piss her off,” I laughed. My entire demeanor seemed glaringly transparent to me, but I hoped Hannah couldn’t tell.

  She tilted her head and watched me for another few seconds before a small, genuine smile unfolded across her lips.

  “That’s right,” she nodded. “I forgot how close they were.”

  I inwardly sighed. “Oh, yeah, like family,” I continued, embellishing the details. “They’ve known each other for years and she’d kill him if he was rude to me—listen, I gotta get back to work. Alan has been on my case all day.”

  She nodded as if she understood. “Oh, I bet. I’ll see you later,” she called after me, sounding far more chipper than she had a few moments before.

  As I left the kitchen, I made a mental note to play it safer with Grayson while we were at work. If Hannah suspected something, there was a good chance that she wasn’t alone. There definitely couldn’t be any more late night sneaking around in our apartment. I couldn’t put the blame on my sister if Hannah found Grayson standing in our kitchen in his skivvies.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amount saved for Paris: $1382 (minus the $98.99 I spent at the small boutique I passed on the way to drinks. The mannequin in the window was wearing a pair of ankle boots I needed for Paris. Needed.).

  Items I have: #ankleboots.

  Items I need: An outfit to wear with my new awesome #ankleboots.

  French phrases that I know: Mon père est Liam Neeson, alors ne me prend pas.

  …which translates to “My dad is Liam Neeson, so don’t take me!” I figure it’s a pretty important phrase to have in my arsenal.

  Brooklyn picked a swanky bar for our happy hour. I could practically feel my wallet shrinking as I walked through the frosted glass entryway. The bar was on the bottom floor of a high-end LA hotel and there were two separate sides. Normal people were filtered in on the left, and celebrities, moguls, and rock stars entered in on the right. I belonged on the left side without a doubt, but Jason and Brooklyn were far from normal. They weren’t even in the normal VIP section. She’d texted me to let me know that they were in some kind of secluded VIP area—even fancier and more badass than the normal one.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?” a bouncer asked as I tried to enter the special VIP section. I’d had no problem making it past the first round of bouncers. I had that skinny model look going on, mostly because asshole Alan never left me enough time to eat actual meals (and when I did manage to sneak away, I spent the time boning my boss in the driver’s seat of his swanky car). I’d also unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blouse after leaving work just for some added incentive.

  “Sure," I replied. “I’m here to see my sister, Brooklyn Heart.”

  The bouncer scoffed and gestured to his buddy next to him like “Get a load of this crazy fangirl.”

  The bouncer pointed behind me, toward the exit. “Yeah, okay. You need to head back to the front. If it makes you feel any better, you made it farther than most."

  I huffed and then redialed Brooklyn’s number for the thirtieth time.

  “Oh, weird, maybe she changed her number,” the other bouncer mimicked in a girlish tone, before punching his buddy playfully.

  “That’s the funniest thing you could come up with?” I asked them with a harsh glare right before I hit redial again.

  By some miracle, she finally answered.

  “Are you here?!” Brooklyn asked.

  “Yeah, butthead. Come let me in. These bouncers don’t believe that I’m VIP-worthy. They even think my 'Cameron Heart' driver's license is fake—I don't even know how to get a fake ID.”

  “Assholes. Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

  I hung up and crossed my arms, trying to come up with the best possible thing to say as soon as Brooklyn showed up. If it were the mid 90s, I would have thrown out a classic “Whasssuppp suckers!” but that didn’t feel cool enough for the current decade.

  “Cammie!” Brooklyn sang as she pushed through the thick black curtain that concealed the VIP-VIP section from the rest of the club. She looked beautiful in a fitted sky blue dress and matching heels. Her long blonde hair swished back and forth as she walked closer and her lips were split into a giant smile aimed right at me. Every club-goer within a ten-foot radius completely freaked out when they caught a glimpse of her. Cell phones were whipped out and flashes started to blind me as they tried to snap a quick picture of her. Brooklyn was completely unfazed by the attention; I would have had a nervous meltdown.

  “Boys,” Brooklyn began as she placed her hand on one of the bouncer’s shoulders. “This is my sister, Cammie. She shall pass, so quit giving her the Gandalf treatment.”

  The bouncers looked back at me with wide, shocked expressions. As I walked past them, I settled for a self-righteous smile because I didn’t think “That’s right, motherfuckers,” would have gone over well. I mean, altogether the bouncers weighed the amount of a small army tank; there was no reason to taunt them.

  As soon as I crossed through the red rope, Brooklyn wrapped me up in a massive hug.

  "She shall pass? Since when do you watch Lord of the Rings?" I asked.

  “Jason and I may have been procrastinating on our album all week. Besides, Orlando Bloom is hot. Speaking of looking good, Sis,” she said, holding me at arm’s length. “Is that a new work out
fit?”

  I laughed and glanced down at my fitted cream blouse and navy blue skirt. “You bought it for me. You should know.”

  “I have such good taste,” she winked. “Let’s go wet your whistle.”

  She pulled me after her, deep into the center of the VIP section. The lights were low and the music was seductive and dark, with heavy bass reverberating around the room. It felt like I was stepping into an underground lair, especially when I caught sight of one of the bartenders sporting bright neon pink hair.

  A massive black bar with a mirrored tile backsplash spread out against an entire wall of the room. We’d just made it to the far edge to order a drink when I caught a whiff of what I swore was Grayson’s aftershave. It had to be.

  I turned to scan the bar, trying to find him. I hadn’t seen him since he’d left for his meeting earlier and I wasn’t convinced that he’d actually show up for drinks. Yet, there he was, standing next to Jason and another man I didn’t recognize. The three men were all leaning against the bar, chatting and sipping their drinks.

  Jason was facing away from me, but I could still see his leather jacket and worn jeans. Grayson was still in his tailored suit from earlier. Jason’s hair was ruffled and wild, but Grayson’s coal black hair was slicked back away from his face—ever the perfect businessman. They were so similar, yet polar opposites in many ways.

  “Cammie!” Brooklyn said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I assumed she’d been calling my name for the last few seconds while I’d been admiring the guys.

  “Sorry. What’s up?”

  She eyed me curiously. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Just whatever you’re having,” I said before glancing back over her shoulder. The boys had spotted us at the bar and three pair of eyes locked on me as I glanced over. Jason waved animatedly. The blonde stranger next to him smiled, and Grayson held up his glass in a silent salute, a private smirk already there, waiting for me.

  I loved seeing him outside of work, in a dark room with people too busy to care if he and I wandered off together. My mind worked overtime to create scenarios where we could sneak away from the group. Maybe I could ask him to mentor me on the project we were working on and then he could mentor me in the bar’s restroom.