Page 37 of Drive Me Crazy
Josie and Theo get into an intense argument about the semantics of what constitutes sending a “nude.” He says Snapchat doesn’t count because it disappears. She claims if it can get you hard, it counts. The two of them are bickering like it’s a mock debate of the United Nations. If Josie didn’t have a boyfriend … she’d stand no chance against Theo’s flirting. Andrew seems like a nice enough guy, but I think she can do better.
“Do you think they’d even realize if we got up and left?” I whisper to Ella, testing to see if she’s still upset with me.
She digs her fork into her paella as she considers this. I wait patiently for her answer, pulling out the fleshy meat of a mussel and popping it into my mouth.
“We can put it to the test,” she proposes. “Want to go get ice cream? Jos and I passed a place on the way here that looked really good.”
I stare at her in disbelief. She’s eating seafood paella and is somehow craving gelato at the same time? I wish this is the most surprising thing she’s ever said to me, but it’s far from it.
“I didn’t realize clams and chocolate went together.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a yes,” I confirm. Theo can cover the bill. “Count of three?”
“Last one there buys?”
She grins at me, knowing damn well I have no idea wherewe’re going, so I’m obviously buying. She’s up and out of her seat before I even count to one. I’ve got to hand it to her, though, the shop she leads me to is amazing.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier,” I tell her as we walk down the cobblestone street. “About the podcast.”
“It’s okay,” she says, a flush creeping across her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being rude.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of my thing, love,” I tease her. “I’ll grant you my forgiveness if you answer a question for me, though.”
“Theo asked me what’ll happen to him if he ‘accidentally ate a birth control pill,’” she says, struggling to keep a straight face. “So as long as your question isn’t as concerning as that … ask away.”
As much as I’d love to know how my idiot friend “accidentally” swallowed birth control, I can’t focus on that right now. Understanding Theo takes an extreme amount of brain power.
“Did you apply to other jobs before accepting George’s offer?” I’m only slightly worried she’ll bite my head off. “As amazing and handsome as I am, I can’t imagine moving across the world to interview me was your first choice.”
“A few, but not ones I was super interested in,” she admits. “I signed a non-compete agreement with PlayMedia, so when I left the company, I was limited in where I could actually apply.”
I lick my ice cream to hide my surprise. That rules out all the big sports and media companies—ESPN, Barstool Sports, Sports Illustrated, Fox Sports. Those are just a few of the ones I know and I’m not even American. “How long does the non-compete last?”
“One year, but there’s a chance I’m blackballed anyway, so I’m not sure that matters.” She snorts although I’m not sure I find the humor in the situation. “Connor told me he was goingto ruin my career, and he’s well-connected enough to make good on that threat.”
My mouth opens and closes. The fact that my cone is still in one piece is a miracle. Ella’s chin dips down as she stares at her fingernails. I hate how her confidence dissolves the moment Brixton the bastard or her old job come up.
“When I called George for advice and he told me about your biography”—she waves her free hand in front of us—“I decided some time away from everything was a pretty good idea. Get back to writing and build up my résumé so people don’t actually think I’m lazy and difficult to work with.”
I don’t even have to ask to know that’s what Connor told people. I’m going to fucking kill the little prick. “What a bloody cocksucker.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble. “I’d never want to be a journalist after all of that.”
“Blake.” Ella chuckles, the dimple I’m so used to seeing making an appearance. “You’d make a horrific journalist.”
“Would not!”
“Um, yes, you would. Your interview skills suck.” She deepens her voice and starts talking in the worst British accent I’ve ever heard. “Why do you smother your coffee to death with milk? Do you even know what a biscuit is? Good God, must you be so bloody rude about my celery?”
Before I can help myself, I’m laughing so hard I’m having trouble not dropping my ice cream. “If I sound like that, please just shoot me and put me out of my misery.”
“Nah.” She nudges me with her elbow. “You can be a massive dick, and I may find you obnoxious at times, but I’m not going to shoot you.”
I refrain from adding that I also happen tohavea massive dick. Instead, I say, “I find you obnoxious at times, too.”
