The Design(40)

Oh jeez. Alan was nothing but a shrewd * to me, but from what it sounded like, he was dealing with quite a lot at home. I should have known something was going on with him. No one is as rude as he was for no reason.

“Dammit, Suzie. Fine. I’m on my way.”

He slammed his phone back onto his desk and shoved his chair back.

I peered hesitantly up at him, confused about how to proceed.

“Do you, um, do you want me to finish up that stuff for you too?” I asked, pointing to the papers on his desk.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“No. It’s fine. Just head home.”

He sounded completely defeated and I hated it. It was easy to deal with * Alan. I could silently curse him in my head and move on with my life, but this sad, depressed version of Alan? It was unchartered territory.

“Okay, well. Goodnight,” I said, offering him a timid smile.

He ignored me, already en route to the elevators.

As soon as he was gone, I reached for my phone and shot Hannah a text.



Cammie: I’m on my way! Save me a shot!



I stood up and slipped my nude heels back on, then pulled off my blazer. On the way down in the elevator, I touched up my makeup and let my hair down from a clip so that it framed my face and brushed against my bare back.

I couldn’t wait to see Grayson’s face when I walked into the bar.

…



Just as I’d suspected, Pat O’ Keefe’s was just a few blocks away from Cole Designs. Its location paired with their happy hour specials (which were long gone by the time I got there at 8:00 pm) drew in a young urbanite crowd. I was making my way along the bar when a group of rowdy men wearing football jerseys sitting atop bar stools threw their arms up and erupted in cheers. The largest guy of them all nearly knocked my head off while he was celebrating but I ducked out of way just in time.

“Oh shit!” the man said, spinning around to face me. His brows instantly rose in interest. “Ah! I’m sorry about that. Let me buy you a drink,” he said, reaching out for my hand. His friends all catcalled and it was clear that they were all three sheets to the wind. I smiled good-naturedly and kept right on walking. I’d already lost enough time with Grayson as it was.

As I made my way farther into the bar, I finally spotted Peter’s wild red hair near a row of dartboards in the back. He was in a sea of architects from our firm. Thirty to forty people were crammed together. Drinks were sloshing and laughter drowned out the rock music playing in the background. My blouse—sans blazer—warranted a few lingering gazes as I stepped up to the group, but I brushed it off. They’re shoulders people, everyone has them.

“CAMMIE!” Hannah yelled over the crowd.

I turned to find her with the other new hires, Christoph and Nathan, who I’d hardly managed to speak to since starting the job. When I joined the group they both squinted as if trying to place me. Oh my god, they didn’t even remember me.

“Cammie,” I said, holding my hand to my chest, reminding them of my name. They both visibly relaxed when I saved them from awkwardly having to pretend to know me.

“Let’s take a shot,” Hannah said, reaching out for my hand so she could drag me closer to the bar.

A shot sounded like a terrible idea, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper, especially since it was a miracle that I was at happy hour to begin with. I let Hannah drag me through the crowd and I trailed after her, all the while spinning my head to find Grayson. He was there somewhere. He said he would be. I wanted to ask Hannah about it, but saying his name to her seemed like a bad omen. Especially since she’d lied—or “embellished”—the fact that he’d invited her here.

“Dude, you missed all the action. Some guy from the accounting department took seven shots in a row and then threw up everywhere.”

Wow. Sounds wonderful.

“Huh, that’s crazy,” I said, unable to hide the boredom in my voice.

“Yeah. And turns out Grayson is a no-show. So lame!”

I snapped my head back to her. “What? I thought you said he invited you?” I asked with a gentle tone. It was as close as I was going to get to calling her out on her lie. I mean, I did still have to live with the girl, after all.

She shrugged off my question and turned to slap her hand down onto the bar.

“Bartender! We’ve been waiting forever!” she snapped.

I cringed and shot an apologetic smile to everyone casting us annoyed glances.

“Bartender!” she yelled again.

I took a step away from her so that people wouldn’t associate us as friends, but she didn’t even notice.

“You want a straight whiskey shot or something else? We can get one of those buttery nipple things?” she asked, slurring her words more and more by the second.

I glanced around the bar to confirm Grayson’s absence, but she was right. He wasn’t there.

“You know what? I don’t feel that great. Why don’t you keep hanging out with the other guys? I’m going to head back to the apartment.”

“What? BOOOOO. You suck,” she said, reaching out to push me. She probably meant it to be a light, playful move, but I lost my footing and bumped into the waiter walking behind me, spilling one of his cocktails in the process. Red liquid spilled over the edge of his tray and soaked the front of his white shirt.