Page 75 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
I wish he’d stop pulling these good-guy stunts. It’s throwing me off balance.
And the other guy in my life hasn’t been around either. Zach has some massive biology project that’s taking up all of his time. I guess it’s not a bad thing. It gives me plenty of time to figure out . . .
Figure out what?
Who I want?
It’s not even really a contest. I mean, Zach and I are practically going out, and Garrett is . . .
Hell, I don’t even know where Garrett is, much less who he is, or what he is to me.
And by the following Tuesday, a week and a half since the might-have-been-an-almost-kiss-but-probably-wasn’t, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t care.
Then he shows up.
“Anners,” Garrett says, strolling into our shared office space like he has a hundred times before. “You do something different with your hair? It’s looking a little flatter than before.”
Just like that, we’re back.
I’m relieved.
I think.
“How’s Zachary?” he asks, plopping into the chair across from me. “Dreamy?” He flutters his eyelashes.
Yup. We’re definitely back. It’s as though that sexually charged moment in my room never happened. Thank God.
“He’s great,” I say, putting on a bright smile.
Garrett’s eyes narrow for a fraction of a second, as though he senses—and wants to call out—my BS. But then he grins right back. “Can I be maid of honor at your wedding? I’d look great in whatever pink poof you’re going to make your bridal party wear when you and Mr. Perfect trot down the aisle.”
“I am not going with pink poof at my wedding.” I snatch back the muffin he’d just swiped from my plate. “And I’m not certainly planning my wedding with Zach.”
“No?”
“No.”
Garrett moves quickly, grabbing a chunk of the muffin before settling back again as though the conversation’s over, but I see it.
That shoulder roll.
I’d seen it a hundred times before, but for the first time I’m wondering what it means.
“What are we working on today?” he asks.
“Well, seeing as you were absent all of last week . . .”
I want him to explain.
He doesn’t.
“While you were out, I and Monday and Wednesday shift guys finished up all the name tags. Now it’s just the last-minute stuff. Table assignments, finding work-study students to do setup and takedown, things like that.”
He nods, and lets me pass off the table assignments to his side of the desk while I go through the list of vendors Mrs. Ramirez gave me and call to make sure that everyone’s still got us on the calendar for the second.
The next two hours pass in the old familiar routine of bicker and teamwork, bicker and teamwork, until I’m surprised to see that our shift’s up.
And surprised to realize that I feel . . . bummed.
