Page 45 of Burn the Script
Me
What did you hope to accomplish with this crime?
Graham
You finally unblocked me.
I type and delete several witty responses, but another text comes through before I can choose the perfect one.
Graham
Do you like the album? I added some pics of my own. The one of us cuddling on the lounger is a favorite.
I remember the taste of strawberry on your skin.
We’re shirtless in the selfie he’s referring to. I’ll never forget the day I spilled a slushy drink all over myself. He cleaned every drop of it with his tongue.
Me
You need to stop this.
Graham
Never.
“What’s he saying?”
I squeak and clutch my chest. “Oh my god. I forgot you were here.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured as much.” Carmen rolls her eyes and dips her sandwich in dill sauce. “Are you planning to share what he said with the rest of the table?”
I drag the album closer to me. “Nope. There are some things I keep to myself.”
“Whatever it was put a smile on your face. I miss seeing it.”
I miss it too. No one makes me smile as easily and freely as Graham does. I’ve also missed his mischievous ways. Even when I’m throwing a hissy fit about his methods, the surprises awaiting me in the end are always thoughtful. And secretly, I’m excited to find out what he has in store for me next.
Saturday, January 28th
I’m testing my finger strength on the cell phone attached to my ear. Any second now, the metal casing might crack, hopefully before my gritted teeth suffer the same fate.
“Andrew, the designers have agreed on the number of closets in these units. We all signed off on the count during the concept design meeting yesterday. The one for designers.”
“I should be in those meetings,” he whines. Always with the whining.
Should Andrew, an architectural engineer responsible for structural safety, be at the concept meetings where we draw up the initial floor plans? Maybe. Technically, yes. But the meetings would last all day because he’d have outlandish opinions on every idea we toss around.
When the collective’s founder brought me on board and asked if I knew any qualified engineers, I immediately thought of Andrew. Enough years had passed that I’d forgotten he was a pain in the ass. He’s smart and does his job exceptionally well, but he wants to do all the jobs.
“That would be a waste of your valuable time. We need your input during the schematics phase, which starts next week.” I step inside the elevator in my apartment building. “I’m about to lose signal, Andrew. We’ll talk soon.”
“Mig—”
Oops! My finger must’ve slipped and ended the call.
The elevator doors shut, and I tip my head against the mirrored wall, eyes closed. Declining work calls on the weekend is one of my cardinal rules, but this violation is my fault. I should’ve checked the Caller ID before answering.
On the third floor, I’m greeted by a pleasant sight, one that instantly perks me up. There may even be a skip in my step when I get off the elevator and walk toward Graham, who’s loitering by my apartment door with a backpack hanging from a shoulder. His sunglasses make it hard to tell whether he’s contemplating life while staring at his sneakers or he’s asleep on his feet.
