Page 30 of Last Night Was Fun

“I’m not trying to trick you, Jameson,” he said, like he’d read her mind. “This is a sincere gesture.” He held up the bag with a crooked smile. It softened Emmy into a more pliable form. Or perhaps it was her growling stomach that did the trick.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

“Best chilaquiles in Old Town.”

Her mouth watered. She was not going to turn down her favorite breakfast food. Even if it was being hand-delivered by her archnemesis.

“Fine. Bring it up.”

She caught the flash of his grin as she hit the button to unlock the building’s front door. While she waited, she sat back and gazed out her living room window, a little dazed Gabe Olson was on his way up to her apartment. She’d slept until nearly 10a.m. The morning sun was well on its way to brightening another perfect SoCal day. If she hadn’t been hobbled by a co-worker, she might have taken a stroll to the farmers’ market before getting to work.

And then it hit her all at once thatGabe Olson was on his way up to her apartment.

She jolted upright, nearly spilling her coffee. “Oh shit!” she hissed. She pushed up off the couch and untangled the towel from her hair. With the most accuracy she could muster for a shapeless, wet object, she hurled it down the hall toward her bedroom. She looked down at her outfit: pajama shorts and a Fall Out Boy T-shirt, standard Saturday morning garb, and considered changing. But then she realized she didn’treallycare what Gabe Olson thought abouther appearance when he was the one showing up unannounced on a weekend morning after a night out getting smashed.

And besides, her shorts put her spectacular bruise on full display, and she didn’t mind the idea of giving him a reminder of why she was laid up on the couch to begin with.

She kept her apartment tidy, but she hadn’t yet put away signs of her 1a.m. arrival. Her Chucks sat by the couch, laces tangled like noodles. Her purse spilled over on the coffee table from when she’d upended it in desperate need of lip balm while icing her leg. The kitchen island still held a plate and knife smeared with peanut butter from when she’d made toast before bed in an attempt to sop up the liquor still floating her brain.

As quickly as she could, she scooped the contents of her purse back inside and set it on her island, wiped crumbs from the granite and put the plate and knife in the sink, kicked away the towels mopping up Tom’s still-leaking sink from the floor above, and twirled her damp hair up into a sloppy bun. She tossed her shoes by the front door right in time to hear her doorbell ring.

She limped over and took a breath, bracing herself for the oddity of seeing a co-worker outside of business hours. It was like seeing a teacher at the grocery store or a dog walk on two legs.

When Emmy opened the door and saw Gabe Olson standing there in the flesh—gelled hair, tight tee, boat shoes, and a pair of shorts—a funny feeling fluttered in her chest. He stared back at her for an oddly gentle moment. And then his eyes dropped to her leg.

“Oh,damn. Look at that thing!” he said in greeting.

Emmy frowned. “Good morning to you too.”

He responded with a half grin. “Sorry. It’s just impressive, that’s all.”

“Again, why do I feel like you’re complimenting yourself?”

“I’m not. I promise. Token of my penance?” He held out the bag with a guilty grimace.

The smell of chilaquiles hit Emmy like a truck. She almost startedto drool. She took the bag and noted the weight of multiple to-go containers inside it. “I accept. Also, if this is from Old Town, you weren’t in the area; that’s miles away. Also also, why are there two servings in here?”

The guilt on his face only multiplied. “I may have gotten something for myself too.”

“Ah, well. You shouldn’t have handed it over then. Mine now.”

He scoffed. “Jameson, come on. Give it back or invite me in.”

She suspiciously narrowed her eyes at him. “You really want to come in and eat breakfast with me?”

Gabe squeezed the back of his neck with a shrug.

“Wow, you must feelreallyguilty,” she said, and dropped her hand from where she’d been holding the door. “Going all the way to Old Town for food then volunteering to hang out? Fine. Come in, I guess.”

He followed her inside and let out a low whistle. “Wow, nice place.”

Once they passed her office / guest room, the entryway of her corner apartment gave way to an open living room / kitchen area with floor-to-ceiling windows on each wall. The view was half the reason she lived there.

“Thanks,” Emmy said, and placed the bag on the island. She had no room for a dining table, so all her meals took place seated at the barstools lining her island. Well, there, or on the couch in her pj’s.

“How’s the leg?” Gabe asked as she gingerly sat on a stool with a wince.

“Not great but better than last night.”