Meet Cute (Page 31)

The breeze ruffles the leaves on a nearby tree, and the blossoms float through the air like scented snowflakes, landing in my hair and my lap. Silence and stillness follow.

“I miss you both.” I kiss my fingers and touch each stone before I leave, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

I try to ignore my phone as it buzzes on my desk. If I don’t check the messages immediately, I somehow believe I have control over what’s happening with Dax.

Holly was right when she said I needed to be careful, that it’s not just my heart that could end up broken.

The more I see how difficult his job is, the more convinced I am that coming to Whitman is what’s best for him and Emme, regardless of whether I make partner.

The policy on interoffice dating is a problem, though. Even worse, I have no idea how he’d react if he found out about the deal I made with Beverly. My head’s a mess, and with everything that’s happened, I’m no longer sure what I’m doing. Other than avoiding. Even the moral gray line I’m treading isn’t enough of a deterrent, which says a lot about my feelings for him.

The phone buzzes again and I bang on my keyboard, nonsense letters running together. “Hold your ground,” I mutter. But it’s useless. My fingers are itching to reach out and grab it. I check the clock and force myself to wait two more minutes. When I finally do, I find that the messages aren’t from Dax, as I expect, but his sister.

Emme: What ru doin this wknd?

Emme: I have girl prob

I frown as I study the messages, as if looking at them will unveil the issue. My first instinct is to call, but teen girls tend to rely on texting, so I fire off a message instead.

Kailyn: What kind of girl prob?

It takes a few minutes before I get a response.

Emme: I need to go shopping n Dax wont understand.

We message back and forth until I finally get the entire story. There’s a dance in a few weeks and she wants new clothes. She’s asking me to come shopping with her. Obviously I want to say yes, but I have to talk to Dax first, which means I have to call him.

I haven’t had a full conversation with him since we made out in his kitchen two days ago. I’ve thought about that extended kiss incessantly. I relive it in my head over and over again; the way his hands roamed over my body, the way his lips moved over my skin. I’ve tried not to think about what it would be like to have sex with him. How attentive he would be, how good it would feel. Obviously, I’m unsuccessful.

All of these thoughts flit through my head as I pull up his contact and hit Call. He picks up halfway through the second ring.

“Hello?”

Everything below and above the waist either clenches or perks up. “Hi. Hey. It’s Kailyn.”

His voice is soft like silk. “How are you?”

“Fine. Good. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m glad you called.”

I bite my lip so I don’t tell him it’s nice to hear his voice.

“Kailyn?”

“Still here, sorry.” I take a breath, grounding myself. “Emme messaged me.”

“Is she okay? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. She’s fine. There’s a school dance coming up. Did you know about it?”

“Oh. Yeah. She mentioned it a couple of times this week. I told her she could go. I mean, it’s good that she wants to do something normal with her friends, right?”

“Yes, definitely, that’s very good.” Everything between us is a little awkward, probably because of me.

“So Emme texted you to talk about a school dance? Did she want advice on boys or something?” His panic is comical.

“Yes, it was about the dance, no, it wasn’t about boy advice. She asked me to take her clothes shopping, and I thought I would run it by you before I said yes.”

“Oh. You don’t have to do that. I can take her.”

“Have you ever taken a thirteen-year-old girl clothes shopping before?”

“No, but how hard can it be? I take her to the mall, she picks out a few things she likes, and we should be good, right?”

“In theory.” He really is adorably clueless about the way girls work. I didn’t even care all that much about fashion as a teenager but when a school dance rolled around, you better believe Holly and I were at the mall, spending whatever money our parents willingly handed over.

“You sound so ominous. It’s just shopping, Kailyn.”

“If you say so. But if you’re okay with it, I’m more than happy to tag along.” I realize I’m twirling my hair around my finger. This is why I wear it up in a bun so often. I pick up a pen and start doodling instead.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I know you have a life, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this because Emme asked.”

“I want to come if you’d like me there.” I tack on the last part to give him an out. The way my heart flutters is worrying.

“Yeah?” He sounds heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“She’s been asking about you. She’ll be excited that you can come. I’m glad she messaged you.”

“Me, too. I’ll let her know and we can iron out the details.” I end the call and message Emme with the good news. I get about twenty excited GIFs in response, and we make a plan for Saturday. I head down the hall to the lounge to make myself a coffee.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Beverly comments.

“Hmm?” I look up from my coffee mug.

“You’re humming, and smiling.”

I shrug. “Oh. Just a good day, I guess. Can I make you a coffee?”

“That would be lovely.” She smiles and props her hip against the counter. “How are things with Daxton and his sister? Have you made any headway with him yet?”

My smile falters the tiniest bit. She’s pushing this angle hard, and I’m not so sure how I feel about any of it anymore. “He’s concerned about making another big change right now. Having to interview, switch jobs, manage something new. It’s a lot to take on for him but he sees the benefits. It’s just going to take time.”

“I’m sure you’re keen to make partner. You’ll figure out a way to convince him. What about the aunt? Do you think she’s going to back down?”

“It’s unlikely. She’s looking to push the stability angle. Her age and her job are in her favor.” I’ve done some research on her. There isn’t much of a work history apart from her secretarial position at the school, which she’s held for the past several years. She has been married three times, however, which leads to some questions about her ability to provide emotional stability.

Beverly nods, her lips pursed as she contemplates this for a moment. “Then you need to stress that we’d be flexible with hours here. Do you know what kind of salary they’re paying him there?” She raps on the counter with her long, French-manicured nails. “Matching or exceeding his current salary will definitely be an enticement.”

I regard her over the lip of my coffee cup, testing the sweetness. “That’s a pretty personal question.”

“You’ve been spending time with him, though, and he really does seem to trust you. I bet you could find out. Will you see him again this week?”

I’m not sure the time I’ve been spending with Dax, with my tongue in his mouth, is the kind Beverly is referring to. “I will.”

“Great. See what you get out of him.”

A heavy feeling settles in my stomach as I hand Beverly her coffee and she saunters out of the lounge. I’m tipping the balance out of my favor, and I’m unsure who’s going to get hurt in the fall.

On Saturday morning I meet Dax and Emme at the mall when it opens. Emme threads her arm through mine and leads me from store to store. Dax’s job is to keep us hydrated and carry the bags. Two hours into the shopping extravaganza and he looks about done.

Emme disappears into a changing room with an armload of clothes, and Dax drops into a chair. “How long is this going to go on?”

“We could be at it all day.” She’s having a great time. While I’m typically dressed in suits from Monday to Friday, my weekend wardrobe consists mostly of jeans in a multitude of colors, T-shirts, and Toms.

Dax kicks at the toe of my llama-print shoes. “Your feet are tiny.”

I wag my brows. “I can buy kids’ shoes if I want.”

“What about clothes?”

“I’m too curvy.”

His eyes move over me in a slow sweep. “I like your curves.”

Based on what I felt pressed up against my stomach the last time he kissed me, I believe him. I’m still not sure what to do about my feelings for him, if anything, but things have shifted between us, and it doesn’t feel as if it’s something I can control.

Emme throws open the changing room door. She’s dressed in a pair of ripped, low-rise jeans, and a top that shows a good four inches of belly.

“What the—”

I kick his shin to shut him up. “I like the jeans.”

Emme does a little spin. “Me, too! I don’t know about the shirt, though.”

“I don’t think it fits the school dress code, does it? What if you wore a tank top under it?” I look around at the display close by and find a bright green tank. “Why don’t you put this on. Layers are totally in right now.”