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“Every time you say youthink, you never actually do.”
“Sayingevery timeis a bit of an overstatement.”
“Or maybe you just have selective memory.” Harris chuckles behind me, my body going rigid. Whipping around, I find him angled toward us, an amused smile on his face. “Can I help you with something?” I bite, not hiding my displeasure with him eavesdropping on our conversation, regardless of what we’re discussing.
“Sorry.” His smile doesn’t falter.
“Something funny?” I arch a brow, irritated by the pearly whites glistening at me.
“My mom used to always say that to me when I was younger.”
“Say what exactly?” I question, my attitude all kinds of major right now. I don’t know why I’m always so curt to him. I guess I want to make it known that I’m not like every other girl in our company. I don’t think he hung the moon and I sure as hell don’t want to sleep with him.
Even if that last part is only partially true.
But I would never do it simply because I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got me.
While he may think he’s god’s gift, I donot.
“That I had selective memory.”
“And do you?” Hannah chimes in behind me, a smile in her voice.
“Only when it comes to certain things.” He winks at me and for some reason it leaves me with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’m missing something.
“So Harris,” Hannah steps around me so she’s standing next to me rather than behind me, “what brings you to our little Friday gathering. We don’t usually see you at these things.”
“Robert.” He hitches his thumb backward in the vicinity of where Robert is standing, talking to a couple of the ladies that work in software testing. “He insisted that I come. Actually, he didn’t really give me much choice.” He chuckles to himself, turning his attention to the bartender as he sets a beer on the bar in front of him. “Thank you.” He nods, picking up the frosted glass.
“Well, don’t let us keep you. I’m sure there are plenty ofotherpeople that you would like to talk to.” I give him an over exaggerated smile, not missing the hint of amusement that passes over his face.
“That I do.” He fights against his own smile. “Hannah.” He nods to my friend next to me. “Blue.” His gray eyes come back to mine. “Always a pleasure.”
“For you, maybe,” I mutter under my breath after he’s already turned and walked away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hannah slaps my arm, pulling my full attention back to her.
“Ow.” I rub the spot she hit. “Why are you hitting me?”
“Why are you so mean to him?”
“Because he’s an arrogant, pompous asshole,” I say like it should be that obvious.
“Okay, yes. There’s something about him that screams arrogance, but have you ever sat down and had an actual conversation with that man? I happen to think he’s pretty nice.”
“Nice.” I cough at the absurdity. “Please tell me you’re joking.” I shake my head at her.
“I’m serious. Maybe if you stopped being so mean to him and avoiding him at every turn, you’d realize he’s notthatbad.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t avoid him if he wasn’t such a sleaze bag.”
“I think the proper term for it is player.”
“I think the proper term for it is douche canoe.”
“I think you’ve secretly got a thing for him,” she fires back, giving me that ‘I know you look’ over the rim of her wine glass.
“I think maybe you do,” I spit back.
