Black Ties and White Lies(22)

Done with the conversation, or probably more likely done with me, Margo rolls her suitcase down the corridor, leaving me watching behind her.

She’s not wrong, none of the rooms are bad. Whichever one she chooses, she’ll be comfortable.

But none of them are the same room I sleep in. And for some reason I can’t put my finger on, I’m a little bitter that we’ll be sleeping on two different floors.

It seems too far.

Before I can think too deeply into what the hell she’s doing to me, I leave her to pick out a room. I head back downstairs, leaving my shirt hanging open as I look through the refrigerator to find something to eat.

Nothing says I’m sorry I almost kissed you like a homemade meal.

I just have to decide if I’m sorry for almost kissing her, or if I’m sorry about not kissing her.





It takes me an hour to make a roasted chicken and vegetables. I plate it over a bed of rice and a special sauce that has impressed every person I’ve ever made it for.

Too bad Margo doesn’t make another appearance.

After cooking for an hour, I figured she’d make her way downstairs. She said she had brunch with her friends, and she ate on the plane, but she has to be hungry. I figured she’d at least want something small to eat. Apparently, she wants to avoid me more than I’d expected because after waiting at the table for forty minutes, I come to terms with the fact she isn’t coming back down.

The nice thing would be to drop something off by her door, to apologize for whatever happened earlier. But I’m not nice. It’s never been an adjective someone’s used to describe me. So, I eat without her. I package up the leftovers and leave them in the fridge.

And then I work late into the night. I stay up much later than I’d intended, my mind too muddled with the thought of her sleeping upstairs to sleep peacefully.





No matter how much I want to, I can’t avoid Beck forever.

Although, I do feel like I could stay cooped up in this room forever and be satisfied if I had food. I almost thought about choosing the smallest room up here just to prove a point to Beck, but after thinking it through further, I realized he probably didn’t care what room I chose. Choosing the smallest one would only end up biting me in the ass. He’d still have what I’m sure is the best room downstairs, making no difference to him what room I was in. After coming to the realization, I chose the largest one up here.

It feels more like a room at a luxurious hotel than a guest bedroom. I’m not complaining. The queen bed is larger than the full one I was used to sleeping on. I don’t know what the mattress is made of, but it felt like sleeping on a cloud.

I should’ve slept perfectly.

I didn’t.

Instead, I dreamed of the desire in Beck’s stupid gorgeous but cunning eyes. I dreamt about what his lips would feel like against mine. I even thought of all the dirty things that could happen on all the surfaces of his kitchen. As the sun peeks through the floor to ceiling windows of my bedroom, I turn into the mattress and groan. Where I should feel chipper and ready to experience New York again, all I feel is exhaustion and partially wound up.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand. Sighing, I push myself off the bed to grab it. The moment I swipe to answer, I can hear the familiar sound of my best friend’s arguing.

“Ask her if she boned Beckham.” I’d know Emma’s voice anywhere.

I also would recognize Winnie’s sigh of disapproval anywhere. Emma and I constantly get it from her. “Emma!” Winnie scolds. “He’s her boss. They can’t sleep together.”

“Shut up, they totally can and she totally should. Seeing that man in person, I’d honestly disown her as a friend if she didn’t let him give her the ride of her life.”

Smiling, I shake my head at both of them. It hasn’t even been a day since I’ve seen the two people I’m closest with in the world and I already miss them terribly. “Good morning,” I say.

It catches both of their attention, their arguing halting immediately. “Margie!” Winnie says excitedly, using a nickname she gave me the first time she ever smoked weed.

“Hi Win,” I respond. I sit up in bed, pulling my knees to my chest and putting the phone on speaker.

“Did you hear everything we just said?” Winnie asks cautiously.

“You know she did,” Emma pipes up. “I meant every word I said, Mar. You better be riding him like a pony the next time we see you. I want to hear all about how big his dick is.”

I snort, fixing my tangled hair into a bun on the top of my head. “I’m his assistant, Em. Not his sex toy. There will be no looking at his dick. Sorry to disappoint.”

I don’t have to be with Emma to know she’s dramatically jutting her lip out in a puppy dog face. She’s been using the face on us since we all met in college. It doesn’t work like it used to, especially since I can’t see her right now. “You’re no fun,” she draws. “I’m having a dry spell and wanted to live vicariously through you.”

There’s silence, and then a gasp is heard from the other line. “Winnie!” Emma shrieks.

“What’s going on?” I question.

“Winnie, you need to explain this text right now,” Emma demands. There’s rustling, a loud crack, and then the line goes dead.