Mr. Wrong Number(45)
“You know where. In my apartment.”
“And you’re not talking about your raft?”
“You know I’m not.” I heard her trail off and mutter, “Although, come to think of it, I have no idea where that thing went.”
“Focus, Liv.”
“Why is there a bed here that looks exactly like yours?”
“Well, I’m sure it isn’t exactly like mine. Mine was a special order.”
“Do you know anything about the bed in my room? Focus, Beck.”
“Yeah.” Was this supposed to be fun? Because this was fun. I glanced at Jill and she was watching me with a tiny smirk. “Turns out I’m not a huge fan of people napping in my room, so I thought this was the best solution.”
“You bought me a million-dollar bed exactly like yours so I won’t nap in your apartment?”
“You’re not listening, Marshall; it’s not exactly like mine. I’d never drop that kind of coin on someone who could accidentally spill a vat of nacho cheese on it at any given moment.”
I heard her snort out a little laugh. “Okay, so, what does this mean? Do I have to let you nap on it?”
“I’m not into slumming.”
“Then why did you do something that nice?”
“It wasn’t me being nice. You helped me land a huge client when you didn’t have to.” I rolled my eyes at Jill like the caller was ridiculous. “This was just me paying you back.”
“I see.” She sounded happy and confused. “Uh, this isn’t like a sex thing, either, right? Like you bought me a bed, so now I have to sleep with you on it?”
Well, shit—like I needed more visuals of Liv in bed. I’d gone from finding her the most annoying girl on the planet to being inexplicably obsessed with her. She still irritated the hell out of me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she rolled her eyes and the way her face got that intensity to it when she was typing one hundred words per minute on her laptop.
I lowered my voice and turned away from the table. “It is not a sex thing, though gratitudial favors will not be turned down should you feel inclined.”
“Gratitudial?”
“That’s right.”
I heard her laugh again. “Well, I am incredibly gratitudial, Colin. This was the nicest surprise and I think I’m going to take a second nap on my very own bed the minute I get off the phone.”
“Did you already take—”
“Oh, yeah. Your bed was amazing, by the way.”
I started laughing; of course she had.
Then she said, “You should come down and see it after you get home; my bed is stunning.”
No way was I going down to look at her bed. I needed to put a lot of distance between my libido and Jack’s little sister.
Jack’s little sister, Jack’s little sister, Jack’s little sister.
I said, “Mine’s better.”
“Well, after I nap I’m going to eat leftover pizza on my deck and shop for sheets and blankets, so it’s pretty much going to be like a party all night down here on six if you change your mind.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t.
“Well, goodbye, then, Colin.”
“Goodbye, Liv.”
The second I ended the call, Jillian said, “Holy hells, Col—who was that? You’re positively beaming.”
I rolled my eyes and stood. “As if I’m telling you. Are you ready?”
She stood and pushed in her chair. “If you don’t give me the story by the time we reach our cars, I’m keying your Audi and calling our mother.”
“Fine.” I gave a chin-nod to one of my father’s golfing buddies as we walked out of the dining room. “I’ll give you the short version, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I’m afraid I can do no such thing.”
13
Olivia
I looked over at the door when I heard a knock. I was sitting on a stool, watching an old episode of New Girl on my laptop and eating leftover pizza, and after seeing Zooey Deschanel look so damned adorable, I’d pulled out my makeup bag and attempted to re-create her look.
It hadn’t worked.
I had on bright red lipstick that looked kind of good but super trampy, like I was the kind of woman who would eat a Popsicle hyper-sexually in an obnoxious attempt to arouse all the menfolk. My eyes were lined in black and I had the wings, but I looked more like I should be in an eighties rock video than an adorable show with Nick Miller.
To make it worse, I was wearing my old softball pants because I saw them in the box and remembered how comfortable they were and wanted to see if they still fit.
“Who is it?” I stood and tried gauging how long it would take for me to sprint up to the loft and change my pants really fast. Colin had said he wasn’t coming by, and no one besides my brother and Dana even knew where I lived.
“It’s Colin.”
Of course it is. “If you’ve come looking for gratitudial favors, just keep walking.”
“I brought bedding.”
I undid the locks and opened the door a crack, leaving on the chain. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and—holy shit—those glasses. It was like he was trying to look like a hot nerd or something. I said, “Bedding for my bed?”