Page 96 of Ruled By Rivalry

“There she is!” The door wasn’t locked yet because I’d still been working upstairs. So, I rushed over, pointedly ignored Amir’s protests from behind me, and fell into my best friend’s arms like it had been years since I’d last seen her.

It had only been a few weeks, but we hadn’t gone that long without each other since we became friends in college.

In our embrace, I could feel her gaze wandering, looking around. At the backlit Ashwood bow by the seating area, one of the few light sources after hours. The couches and reception, and Amir, who startled the shit out of her.

“Hi,” he deadpanned at what must’ve been a distraught look on her face. “Paula Castillo, I assume.”

“Be nice, Amir.”

He scowled, but didn’t argue, which I appreciated enough to turn back to Paula. Who, unexpectedly, was also scowling.

“What are you doing?” she hissed into my ear, then probably sent a smile across my shoulder that was supposed to signal Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. “You’re at work. You can’t just . . . act this way.”

Right. For Paula, I was still the put-together college girl. Not the struggling intern who was clearly a mess.

“Don’t worry. Amir promised not to tell on me, but we’re not allowed to go up to the offices.” I ushered Paula toward the white couches in the corner, usually reserved for waiting guests.

“That’s okay?” Confusion was an understatement for my best friend’s state.

“It’s not. But I won’t try and argue,” I added, loud enough for him to hear.

I imagined there was a hint of appreciation in his gruff “Thanks.” I could be making it up.

I thought I’d been the one leading Paula toward the couch, but when I fell on top of it, it felt like maybe she’d been the one leading me. “Are you okay?” she whisper-shouted.

A futile attempt at some privacy. “He’s going to hear us anyway.” I shrugged. “No need to try and whisper.”

Paula shook her head, and I wasn’t sure if it was at my words or just . . . me. Like this. “I haven’t seen you like this since the first night Riley mixed drinks for us. How much have you had?”

“Not much,” I promised. “I just haven’t eaten all that much.” For the past couple of days, actually. Instant ramen between one deadline and the next, a pastry from the catering table when no one was looking. I’d been microdosing food because I hadn’t had time to do anything else but work. “Probably why a single bottle of cheap white wine knocked me out.”

“You’re going to have the hangover of a lifetime,” Paula said matter-of-factly, then coordinated my head onto her lap and let her fingers run through my hair. “Poor Elliot’s probably gonna have to tuck you in tonight, or you won’t make it to bed.”

The sheer reminder of him made me groan. I buried my face in my hands and wished this was the first time I’d thought of him since coming back to the office.

But the way she pushed my hair out of my face had Elliot written all over it, and Amir’s nonchalance had reminded me of him, too.

The Candy Crush music coming from behind us got quieter. Like the two girls lying in his lobby had become just a bit more interesting. Still, Amir’s eyes were trained on his phone.

Slowly, carefully, Paula asked, “What?”

I groaned again. And again. Until I was kicking the couch and had buried my head so deep in her lap, it was pitch black. Until finally, I let it out. “We hooked up, alright?!”

The Candy Crush music stopped. Paula gasped. The room was spinning, even though I still couldn’t see it.

“Get out of my lap right now!” she screeched, hauling me upright, the look in her eyes bordering on deranged. “You’re telling me you had sex and you didn’t immediately call me—”

“No!” I fell back against the couch, but at least I could still see her. There was no sound coming from Amir, but I was too mortified to check if he was still busy with his phone. “He didn’t want to.”

“What?”

“He didn’t want to . . . I don’t know. Have me regret it, I guess? He wanted to wait until we knew which one of us got the job, so that if I hated him afterward, I wouldn’t regret sleeping with him.” I had to do a double take at the look on her face, immediately mortified. “No, no! Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” But she was pouting, and she knew what it meant.

“Swoon over it.”

“But you’re swooning over it!”