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Outside the Lines(35)

By:Emily Goodwin


I turn my phone on silent. I’ll text her later, like when I’m sitting at my desk and am supposed to be doing work. Ben returns to the table.

“How’s work?”

“Meh, it’s work.”

“Are you going on any more customer service calls?”

I shake my head. “The temp is there to take over, thank God. I really don’t like dealing with people,” I admit and Ben laughs. “Though I’m glad I took that one call with that asshole client.”

“I’m glad you did too.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, gently pressing his thumb into my palm. “Want to go out again this weekend?”

“I do,” I say without even having to think about it. “Have anything in mind?”

“Dinner … movie … sex,” he says casually and it takes all I have not to look around and see who heard. Not that I’d mind, since that sex is happening with me.

“I can live with that,” I tell him. “Friday?”

He makes a face. “I have a gala Friday. Is Saturday okay?”

“Yeah,” I say then wonder if I should act like I have a life. Why lie? My ideal Friday night is one spent at home anyway, with fictional characters and wine to keep me company. We talk and laugh throughout lunch, and soon it’s time for me to head back to the office. Ben walks me to my car.

His hands settle on my waist and he pushes his hips into mine. I can’t help but get turned on. I hook my arms around his neck.

“If I called your work and personally requested you, would you get sent out to help me plug in my router?” he asks, voice heavy with innuendo.

“Possibly,” I say. “It’s worth a try. Because that’s definitely a problem I can help you with. And my boss is out sick, so whoever you talk to won’t really know what’s going on.”

I want him, and my lady parts that were oh so lonely until recently agree. I’m getting wet just thinking about doing the sex again. Screw work. There’s an alley behind this cafe…

“I’ll call,” he says. “Say you messed up something else and act like I’m pissed.”

“Good thing my boss is out sick or this wouldn’t work,” I say. “Because I’m very good at plugging in routers.” Then I shake my head. “He wouldn’t buy it if you said I messed it up. Not that I’ve done it personally for him. He swings the other way, actually.” I need to stop talking. Like yesterday. I shake my head and look down, letting my vision focus on his crotch.

“Well, that works in my favor then.” He tips my chin up and kisses me, leaving me breathless. We part our ways and I smile like a goon for a few minutes. Then I shake myself and call Erin. I give her a brief recap of our lunch date.

“I told you he likes you!” she says.

“It’s still too early to really know,” I argue and ignore that nagging feeling of dread bubbling inside me. The one that questions why he likes me. I’m just me, nothing special, nothing overly memorable.

Just plain, ‘ol Felicity.

“Though,” she goes on. “I do wonder why he didn’t ask you to go to that gala with him. I assume he’d take a date. You usually do to fancy events.”

“I half wondered the same thing.”

“Half wondered?”

“Yeah,” I say. “The thought entered my head but I didn’t want to think about it because I knew you could take dates to those events, and why am I not his date. I can be sophisticated. Well, I can act sophisticated.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” I insist and push down on the gas to get through a yellow light. “He did tell me he dates. Like we didn’t specify that we’re exclusive or anything, and he said early on that he used to—still does—shit if I know. Whatever. He’s free to date other women until some rules are laid down, right?”

“Right. And you can date other men.”

“Good, since I got a line of ‘em outside my door.”

“Hey, you never know.”

I let out a snort. “True. But it’s whatever. I like Ben, even if it’s all casual for now. There’s always a later.”

“I love your outlook,” she says. “I wish I was like that.”

“You can be,” I say. Erin is a worrier. Stage four, incurable worrier. “Just loosen up. Or drink more wine. That’s what I do.”

“I had a glass last night.”

“I had a bottle last night,” I say, and I’m only exaggerating a bit. “I’m back at work,” I sigh. “How’s the bakery today?”