The Design(25)
As soon as we arrived, I knew the evening would be a disaster. The fancy French restaurant placed our group at the best table in the house: a secluded corner with low ambient lighting. But what good did that do me if I wasn’t even sitting beside Grayson? When we’d arrived at the table and chosen seats, Grayson scooted in beside Jason and then Hannah claimed the chair next to him so fast that I was left wondering if she had some kind of superhuman speed. No, really. I’d stood next to the table for a second, watching the four of them take their seats, cozy as f*cking bugs in a rug. I’ll spare you the terrible details, but for the first thirty minutes of dinner, I had to listen to Hannah monopolizing Grayson’s every breath with her stories from college, her stories about growing up, and her favorite things about working at his firm.
Wow, keep telling him it’s a coincidence that you both love hazelnut creamer in your coffee. There's hazelnut, and there’s vanilla. By that logic, you're also soulmates with smelly Gary from finance.
I peered at Hannah from beneath my lashes just as she subtly hiked her skirt up another inch on her thighs. Grayson was chatting with Jason about investments or something equally as boring, and Hannah was using the opportunity to her advantage. Why oh why had I invited her?
“So Grayson, have you ever been down to South America?” Hannah asked, cutting off his conversation with Jason. “Because I went down there with my college’s architecture club. Our original mission was to build a school, but instead the kids taught us that you don’t need four walls and a dingy old desk, you can learn from anywhere.”
“Wait, so did you end up building the school for them?” Brooklyn asked.
Hannah shot her a glare. “No. We lost time because it rained the first day, so everyone decided to spend our last four days touring the ruins down there instead. Anyway, Grayson, the ruins are even better in real life. You absolutely have to take a trip there.”
Grayson nodded good-naturedly and I turned back to my food, ill-equipped to deal with the awkwardness of the dinner.
“Cammie, did you enjoy your first week of work?” Jason asked from across the table. Usually, I would have taken a moment to admire him. After all, he was People’s Sexiest Man To Ever Be Born… or whatever. But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood. Not while Hannah was practically licking her lips, preparing to sink her teeth into Grayson.
“Yeah, it was uh... fine,” I said, spinning my ravioli around with my fork. I’d barely managed two bites. Every time I saw Hannah turn her attention to Grayson or—God forbid—emit another one of her giggles, blind-rage replaced my hunger. If I casually stabbed her hand with my fork so that she’d have to be rushed to the hospital, would that scream “desperate”? I wasn’t sure, so I just filed the idea away in the “maybe” pile.
“Wow, is it that bad working for me, Cammie?” Grayson asked, directing words at me for the first time all night. The fact that he’d used “Cammie” instead of “Cameron” in front of my sister only served to piss me off even more.
“It’s not like I’m really working for you. You’re locked away in your office all day. I’m left with Alan and his sparkling personality.” I practically shivered just saying his name aloud.
“I’ll keep a better eye on him,” he promised just as Hannah put her hand on his forearm to steal his attention once again. My fork twitched in my hand.
“Grayson!” Hannah all but shouted. “I meant to tell you, I absolutely love the mentor program. I have Alan as a supervisor and he’s actually a really great teacher. He showed me the blueprints for the…” At that point her voice completely faded into Charlie Brown-esque “womp womp womp”. I turned to see if I could find solace with Brooklyn and Jason, but they were whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears—or so I assumed—so I was left on my own, rocking the fifth wheel spot like I was born for the role. Enough. I dropped my fork onto my plate and pushed my chair out from the table.
“I’m going to go get some air,” I said to no one in particular. Brooklyn moved to follow me but I shot her a look to stay put.
A good, solid suck of LA smog was just what I needed. I needed to shake things up. I hated the person I was becoming: this insecure, shell of a girl. I’d been confident in college, outspoken and happy. I didn’t care about what other people thought. Now I couldn’t even make it through a dinner without coming undone. I couldn’t eat. One minute I’d be fine, and the next, Grayson would make me so angry that I felt completely out of control. It was all Grayson’s fault.
I toed a rock with my shoe and crossed my arms like a melodramatic teen.
What was I doing wasting my time on Grayson? Why did I feel the need to conquer him? To win him over? Because really, that’s what I was after. If I wanted something serious from him, I’d play it cool and take a step back. No. It was about the thrill of the hunt. But why? I didn’t need the added stress. I just needed three months worth of paychecks so I could get the hell away from LA and find some nice Frenchman to stick between my legs.
Just the idea of leaving LA started to calm me down. I’d start in Paris, of course. I’d yet to see the Eiffel Tower in person and if I was going to jaunt around the world, experiencing life to the fullest, that’s where I needed to begin. Maybe I’d stay there for a week or two, eating my fill of croissants and sleeping my way through as many Frenchmen as I dared to try out. How do you say “Get into my pants” in French? I’d have to learn. (Or y’know… I could always just default to good ol' body language.)