“Ready.”
As she opens the door, cold air whips into the car, and Greer laughs and launches herself into the night.
I follow her, plunging outside and reaching for her hand. Together we race for the entrance, pulling open the heavy wooden doors and stumbling inside, laughing.
“Wow.” Greer stops short just inside the door, taking in the festive decor in the venue. High, lofted ceilings lend the place a modern, industrial vibe that’s warmed by twinkling holiday lights, fabric draped over the walls, and multiple Christmas trees scattered throughout the space. Even the stairs leading to the event’s greeter are lined with glowing candles in glass hurricanes.
“Told you it’d be good.”
I offer Greer my arm, and she takes it to balance herself as we climb the steps together. Her touch burns through my suit jacket, her heat radiating between us as if we’re already naked.
I can’t help dropping my hand to the small of her back as we thread through the crowd to search for colleagues from our department. Greer, for her part, leans into my touch and beams back at me. My cock twitches again.
An hour tops. We’ll stay long enough to be seen and make an impression, and then I’m taking my girl home and stripping that seductive dress off of her.
Greer’s eyes drop to my lips as if she can read my mind, and then she smiles and squeezes my arm. “Where should we start?”
The event venue sprawls with multiple rooms, different music spilling out of each space. We head toward the room on the left, where an open bar stretches in front of a long, mirrored wall.
“Locke! Greer!”
We both spin to face Eden, who hurries across the floor to us clad in a trendy blank jumpsuit. “You made it!” She squees at the sight of us, then hugs me and Greer and pushes a few slips of paper into our hands. “Don’t tell, but I got us extra drink tickets. Perks of being on the planning committee.”
Greer laughs and tucks her tickets into her purse. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get us drunk.”
Eden shrugs. “I mean, there’s an ice luge in the Moscow mule station. Someone’s got to take advantage of it.”
“You know we’ve always got your back,” I say.
“Did you see that room yet?”
“Nope. Just got here.”
Eden waves her arms to point out the highlights. “There are three main bars. One here, one in the room across the hall, and the Moscow mule bar, which has its own little room. Plus, there’s a dance floor and a photo booth, which you guys should totally do.” She scans the room, and her face lights up. “Ooh! And a magician!”
As I follow her gesture, I spot Damien holding court in a cluster of some of my other coworkers from our third-floor open office.
He’s here after all. Great.
The sight of Damien’s pressed navy suit makes my hands clench at my sides, reminding me of all our unfinished business. I have no doubt that my new boss’s glowing recommendation tipped the scales in my favor for the San Francisco job, but I also suspect his still-obvious attraction to Greer is behind the way he’s encouraged me to take it.
Not that I plan to.
I spent all morning staring at the offer letter on my computer screen, trying to come to terms with letting it go. Everything for the past few weeks has been leading to this—each moment I’ve spent at work and with Greer. I’ve always liked my life in Seattle, but with her in my arms, I fucking love it. And I think I’m starting to understand I’d be okay making that trade for her. I’d be okay staying, passing on the San Francisco role. There’s always going to be another job or another opportunity here in Seattle, but there’s only one Greer Lively. Now that she’s mine, how can I possibly walk away?
Eden excuses herself to greet other colleagues, and I accept the gentlemanly duty of procuring drinks for myself and Greer. When I return from the bar with a beer for me and a lemon drop for her, I find Greer shaking hands with a half dozen of our other coworkers and their dates, her eyes bright.
Everyone stares at her with rapt attention, and I get it. Greer’s energy is attractive, not just to guys in a romantic way, but to women too. People want to be near her. To have a little of that magic rub off on them.
I lean close to Greer and offer her the lemon drop, and she rewards me with a smile that’s meant only for me.
She steps to the side to make room for me and accepts the glass. “Thank you. This looks delicious.” As she takes a sip, her lush lips curve wickedly, and I have to tear my gaze away before I get caught staring. Then she surprises me by leaning close to my ear. “Want to see what the other rooms look like?”
“You don’t want to stay and chat more?”
She gives a delicate shrug, and I suddenly realize why Greer would have wanted a date tonight. I’ve always come to work events solo, but all the happy couples swirling through the room remind us of what life outside of work could look like, too. She and I are almost but not quite there yet. First I need to tell her how I feel. Because it’s not just the last few weeks that have changed things between me and Greer. I’ve been falling for her for the last year.
“Excuse us for a minute,” I say, and Greer’s grateful look warms my chest. We wander past an overflowing buffet table stacked with an assortment of french fries, charcuterie trays, and a magnificent, tiered display of a dozen kinds of cake pops.
“Ooh, the photo booth!” Greer crows. “Let’s do it.”
The line’s only three couples deep, so we finish our drinks and plot the best props to use. When it’s our turn for the first picture, I don a shark hat and Greer puts on some rabbit ears. In the second photo, we hold up signs pointing at each other. Weirdo, hers reads.
I don’t know her, says mine.
“Last picture.” I wrap my arms around Greer’s waist, and whisper in her ear, “Awkward prom pose.”
Greer bursts into laughter, which makes me laugh too, and that’s how the camera catches us—our arms wrapped around each other, our faces so freaking happy it hurts.
We wait by the printer for our copies of the photos, and the machine spits out two shiny strips with our beaming faces on it.
“This one’s going to go in the San Francisco frame,” Greer says with a smile. She tucks her photo strip in her purse. “Hey, can you excuse me to the restroom for a second?”
“Of course.”
“Meet you back here?”
I nod and watch her trail away, then turn back to the action. After ten couples go through the booth, though, my stomach starts to knot.
It shouldn’t be taking so long, right? What if she’s not okay?
I spin to face the party, but I don’t see Greer anywhere in the room. The crowd has thickened since she and I arrived, the volume along with it.
“Hey, if Greer comes over, tell her I’ll be right back,” I tell Kevin Yin, the Project Manager who helps on Greer’s bot work. I have to raise my voice to be heard over the crowd.
Kevin nods, and I push back through the tangle of people to head toward the restroom.
A main hallway bisects the event venue, and though the hallway is less crowded, Greer’s not here. I continue on past Eden’s prized Moscow mule room with the ice luge lit up in glitzy purple lights, and walk down the hallway toward the restrooms. No Greer.
Then I hear the low murmur of voices from behind a thick wall to my right. The staging room where brides and grooms using the venue to get married get ready. I forgot the place existed since it’s usually cordoned off during special events.
I turn down a smaller hallway to find the entrance to the room and then freeze at the sight of a guy in a navy blue suit. His back’s turned to me, and he’s bent down to embrace someone I can’t see. But then—lord help me—the guy shifts ever so slightly to reveal the silky skirt of Greer’s emerald green gown.
No.
No.
My heart drops through my chest, and my stomach wrenches with nausea.
Greer’s voice wavers—with longing?
With lust? “Damien, I—”
And then his kiss swallows her words and my whole world crumbles to ash.
Damien’s kissing Greer.
They’re kissing.
They’re—fuck.
Is this all she really wanted from me? A chance to make Damien jealous? A chance to win him back?
I was sure about her. I was so sure. But that kiss destroys everything in a single instant.
Pain flares in my chest like a second sun. It’s not a bullet hole or a knife wound—it’s a burn.
I can’t watch.
I’m going to be sick.
I turn on my heel in my suit that suddenly makes me feel like a parody of myself, and I storm out of the room and out of the party, leaving everything and everyone behind.
Me and Greer was just another fake relationship, like me and my dad. All of the lies hit a little too close to home, and I know I should stay and hear her out, but I just can’t. I need to get out of here before I blast to pieces.
It comes down to goddamn self-preservation.
23
Greer
The second Damien’s lips crush against mine, I jerk away. His hands lock on my hips, holding me tight, so I can’t get far. Still, it’s enough for me to lean back, breathing heavy, and demand, “What was that for?”
“Mistletoe.” Damien points at the ceiling above us with a smug grin on his lips. “And everything that’s been happening between us these last few weeks.”
“Nothing’s been happening,” I growl.
“I don’t, for a second, believe that.” He drags me forward and presses his lips to mine again.
One kiss I could have forgiven because of our past. But two? Fuck no.
“Get off of me.” My heart beats a furious tune of survival, and a blaze of outrage consumes my whole body. I brace my palms against Damien’s chest and shove him backward as adrenaline and anger spike through my veins and lend me extra strength.
This time it works.
Caught off guard, Damien stumbles away, and his normally handsome features twist into a scowl. “What the hell, Greer? You got me that wine from our first date. Don’t tell me you weren’t trying to send a message.”
“Excuse me?” I spit. “I got it for you because I knew you liked it. Not to remind you of us.”
He wipes the back of his hand against his lips. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Stupid?” I laugh bitterly. “The only stupid thing I did was be alone with you in this room.”
“Oh, please. You’re only still at this company at all because of me.” Damien’s chest jerks with ragged breath and his words ring harshly in my ears.
I’ve spent most of my career feeling like an imposter, feeling like I don’t deserve the things I have. But tonight, with Locke loving me for exactly who I am, I realize that’s not true anymore. These last few weeks have made me believe in myself and in my strength.
I stand tall and lower my voice with cool, crisp authority. “I’m here on merit, Damien. If you can’t be a decent human, then you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be here.”
I gather the skirt of my dress in one hand and push toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Damien calls. His eyes crawl over my body, a heavy, invasive gaze that makes my skin itch.
“To find my date,” I bite out.
My heart sinks and hot tears threaten to fall as Locke’s handsome face fills my mind.
How am I going to tell him about this?
Damien’s words catch me at the door. “You don’t want him.”
“Who I want is none of your business, Damien.” My spine stiffens, and I push back my shoulders. I can’t let him see the effect he has on me.
“He’s going to leave you.”
But he wouldn’t. Not Locke. Not after everything he’s shown me, everything we’ve done together.
But when I stumble out into the party, I don’t see Locke standing near the photo booth station where we said we’d meet. As I scan the crowd, I try to draw in a breath, but my lungs won’t inflate. I need to see him. I need to know that everything’s okay. For the last year, Locke’s been the person who makes me feel my best, who comforts me when I’m having a tough day. But he’s not where I left him.
A hand reaches out to grab my arm, and after Damien’s unwelcome touch, this one makes me jump.
I spin to face the hand’s owner, and my shoulders relax ever so slightly as I catch Kevin Yin grinning back at me.
“Hey, Greer,” he says.
I can’t force myself to make small talk. “Have you seen Locke?”
“He went looking for you.”
See? That’s the logical explanation.
I flash Kevin a tight smile and nod. “Thanks.”
The thumping music spilling out of every room chases me as I race back toward the bathroom, but Locke’s not in the hallway across from the ladies’ room or even by the Moscow Mule bar. I can’t find him on the dance floor or by any of the three bars or in any of the rooms.
What the hell, Locke?
Panic floods my body, and my heart bangs erratically. I force myself to slow down, then sink onto one of the stools by the buffet area. The greasy scent of french fries makes my stomach turn over, but I drag in two deep breaths before I reach for my cell phone and type out a text to Locke.
Can’t find you. Where’d you end up?
Three dots rise on my screen and disappear, then rise again. I left, Greer.
What?
A chill spills down my back as ice swallows all the heat and rage from my encounter with Damien. I slide off the stool and search the venue for a quiet place, but the noise inside is crushing.
I finally slip outside to shiver in the cold while I dial Locke’s number. While the phone rings, I walk toward where we parked, somehow knowing the car will be gone even as I force myself to look. My beautiful skirt drags through the dust and goosebumps race over my skin, but Locke’s car is missing, along with my coat.
At last, Locke picks up the phone, his breath labored on the other end of the line. In the background, I hear the rumble of a car engine.
“You left?” I squeak out. “Are you coming back?”
“Unlikely.”
The pain in his voice makes me freeze, and I curl my toes inside my high heels, dust from the parking lot gritty against my skin. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“No.” His voice is as merciless and unbending as steel. Colder than the night air that wraps around my bare back and arms and numbs my skin.
My chest squeezes so tight it’s hard to breathe again. “Are you sick? Should you even be driving?”
“It doesn’t matter, Greer.” A tinge of anger marks his words.
My mouth drops open. After everything, he’s going to just bail on me? “But you’re my ride, Locke.”
“Not anymore.”
Something’s clawing at him, hurting him, but the injustice of it stings. “That was the whole point of our agreement,” I protest. “We’re supposed to be there for each other.”
I know from the way the silence falls like a boulder that I’ve said the wrong thing. “Yeah, well, it looks like you got what you wanted.”
“What?” I gasp, and then the realization dawns on me. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit. “Locke, if you saw something with Damien, I can explain.” But by the end of my sentence, the only response is silence.
He’s already hung up the phone.
24
Locke
I think I’m gonna be fine. I think I’m going to make it all the way into the office and fake smile at Greer and ignore the burning, stinging sensation that floods my sinus and feels almost like tears, and that I’m going to make it through Thursday and then I’m going to come home and finally let myself implode. But it’s her coat that does me in.
I get all the way into the driver’s seat of my car before I catch sight of the soft black material draped over the passenger seat, and then my vision warps at the edges and everything sta
rts to spin. I press the heel of my hands against my eyes, blotting out the light and plunging the world into darkness, but I can still see Damien kissing Greer last night and my hopes for what we were going to be disappearing just like that.
The car still smells like her perfume.
Get it together, Locke.
She’s going to be cold.
The right thing to do would be to take the coat back to Greer, but in this moment, I know I can’t face her today. Not yet. Instead, I kill the ignition and stumble back into my apartment. I avoid the living room and haul my laptop straight into my bedroom because I can’t bear to sit and stare at the Christmas tree that’s suddenly lost all of its charm. I can’t deal with the sight of Greer’s vanilla ice cream cone, the only special ornament hanging on the tree, reminding me of everything I’ve lost.
I wanted to know if she wanted me, and now I have my answer. I let my feelings get carried away, thinking we could build a future together, but Greer and I were only using each other. That’s all this was.
My apartment issues quiet, familiar noises as I open my computer and summon the offer letter on its screen—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the air vents ticking as they kick out heat. Maybe it’s better this way, to say goodbye to everything at once. To my place and my city and my girl.
The words on the screen blur in front of my eyes, but I know exactly what my choices are. Choices Greer made for me.
Up until yesterday, I felt so sure about us, about our feelings for each other, and now I don’t know anything anymore. I feel exactly how I did when I found out about my dad, only there’s no Greer to turn to for comfort. And that’s the thing that hurts the most. I’ve lost my girl and my best friend all at once.
It was a mistake to not make it clear where each of us stood. I recognize that I’m partway to blame for the way this all shook out, but suddenly I don’t want to have to handle things. I don’t want the pressure of being perfect, of living up to my dad’s reputation.
Fall in love with your best friend, said my mom.
The Fake Date Agreement (Awkward Arrangements Book 1) Page 14
