Page 68 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
“But I’m right.”
He doesn’t bother responding.
We work in semi-companionable silence for several minutes.
“It was the usual long-distance stuff,” he says out of nowhere.
“Huh?”
“Me and Leah. We broke up because of the usual long-distance stuff.”
My cutting hand pauses, a little thrown off. The usual snappy retort is on the tip of my tongue. We having a moment here, Reed?
But for some reason, I hear myself say something else entirely. “Sorry, Garrett. Seriously. That sucks. But at least you get a rebound opportunity now, right?”
“You’re not going to ask me what long-distance stuff?”
I frown in confusion. “Doesn’t feel like my business . . . But if you want to talk about it . . . ?”
He gnaws on the end of his pen for a minute, watching me. Gross. He looks away. “Nah.”
I shrug as though it’s no big deal, but seriously, now I’m a little curious. Garrett may drive me crazy, but he’s a “catch” as my mother would say. He’s good-looking, funny, gets good grades . . . maybe a little bit of a jerk, but some girls like that. I wonder what he did that made Princess Leah dumped him.
There’s a knock at the small side office where we students work and our eyes snap to each other in a wide oh-no moment.
“Hey kids!”
“Hi Mrs. Ramirez,” we say in cheerful unison. Becky Ramirez is executive assistant to Fordham’s president, and in the interview, I’d been lulled by her five-foot-nothin’, strawberry blond pixie appearance into thinking she’d be a sweet, easygoing boss. And while she is nice enough, she also has ridiculous expectations about what her student employees can get done in the span of two hours.
Helping each other survive Becky’s sometimes ridiculous demands is the only way Garrett and I had bonded over the past few months, and she’d been way worse this past week now that we were T-minus a month away from the big gala.
“Which one of you wants to go for a coffee run?” she asks in her deceptively sweet-as-sugar voice, waggling her work-expense Starbucks card at us. My eyes flick to the window. It’s pouring outside, and of course I’ve forgotten my umbrella. But still, as far as Mrs. Ramirez’s requests go, this one’s pretty tame.
“I’ve got it,” Garrett says, already pushing his chair back.
I look at him in surprise. We keep a tally of these kinds of things, and I’m pretty sure it’s my turn. “Thanks Garrett,” she says, handing him the card. “It’s for Father Rosetti and myself today, so if you get a drink carrier, you can probably carry back drinks for you and Annie. Our treat.”
Don’t have to twist my arm. “I’d love a—”
“Double tall, nonfat mocha, no whip. I got it,” Garrett says, shrugging on his jacket and slipping out the door. Becky disappears, and I stare after them for a second.
He knows my coffee order by heart?
That’s twice in five minutes that Garrett Reed has caught me off guard. This has to stop. He’s so not the type of guy you let get the jump on you.
An hour later, Garrett and I have barely made a dent in the amount of tedious tasks that need to be done, but our shift is over, so we at least have a reprieve until Thursday.
“Where you off to?” he asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder as I button my coat.
“French,” I say, as he holds open the office door for me. “You?”
“Nothing. My schedule ended up pretty heavy on Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays, but Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are open.”
“Lucky,” I mutter as I glare out at the nasty New York weather. I guess I should be lucky it’s not snowy, but it might as well be. The Phoenix native in me hasn’t adjusted to the cold, much less the wet that is the East Coast winter.
Garrett pulls out a sleek black umbrella and waggles at me. “I’ll walk you.”
I stare at the umbrella. Then at him. “Why?”
