The Fastest Way to Fall(29)

“I guess I did.” She spoke in an airy voice, stepping back to sit on the edge of my desk, her crossed legs angled toward me. Her pencil skirt rode up above her knee, and she rested one hand on the smooth wooden surface. “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Kelsey’s evasive tone was one I knew well from years of half answers. A familiar annoyance clawed at me, but I tried to push it away. I told her I’d be her friend. I should at least try.

“I’ve got a busy day. What did you want to talk about?”

“I need your help.” She said it so matter-of-factly, it took me off guard. “We’re going under.”

“What? Who?” I should have gone on the defense—I knew Kelsey well enough to be suspicious—but I was too surprised to plan my response.

“HottrYou.” Kelsey slid off the desk with a sigh and returned to the window. “My crew is good, but they don’t have your expertise. We can’t compete.” She turned, looking at me with affection. Even when we’d been together, she almost never allowed me to see such unguarded emotion. “I didn’t realize your passion mattered until I didn’t have it around me anymore.”

The look was fleeting, just a second or two, but it shook me. On the few occasions she’d shown that soft side when we were together, I’d felt that same disequilibrium, and I hated that she still did that to me, that she still made me care.

I leaned back in my chair, creating space between Kelsey and me. “What are you going to do?”

Her jaw tensed and her expression cooled as she looked out the window. “What do you think I should do?”

“Kels, you’re our biggest competitor. Are you actually asking me for advice?” It had come out harsher than I’d meant it to. “Anyway, you know I’m shit with the business side of things.”

“I know.” She abruptly stepped back from the window and leaned against the edge of my desk again, this time closer to me, one leg crossed over the other inches from my knee. “I have a proposition.”

“Okay . . .” This meeting had spun out of my control. “Do you want to sit?”

“I’m fine.” She gripped the edge of the desk with both palms. “I think you should merge with HottrYou and bring me on as your head of operations. You never hired a COO, right?”

I pushed back in my chair, creating more distance between us.

“Hear me out.” She touched the toe of her black shoe to my foot. “FitMi is the stronger platform, but we still have a large client base looking for what we deliver—the promise of being hot, attractive . . .” She tapped her toe against my calf and slid it for just an inch or two. “Wanted.”

“Kels . . .”

“You, me, and Cord. We were a good team, and I would bring the strong parts of HottrYou with me. We consistently outpace you with younger consumers, and our social media game is far superior. This could be mutually beneficial.” She looked down, eyes searching mine. “And you and me, we were good together, too. I’d forgotten that.”

She settled her hands on either side of my chair and hovered over me, her open shirt at my eyeline and her scent surrounding me. “I messed up,” she said, her voice soft, eyes inches from mine. “But I think we could be good again, in business and . . .” She trailed a finger up my forearm, tracing the tattoo. “Elsewhere.”

Those soft, teasing touches used to turn me on, and she knew it.

I gently pulled her hands from the chair and stood, our chests brushing for a moment. I walked to the window, and Kelsey huffed, falling into my chair.

“This is a lot to consider, Kels.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” she said, composed. “I don’t expect a decision now.”

“Let me talk to Cord about it, okay?”

“Sure,” she said, rising to her feet and looking at the watch on her thin wrist. “I should go.” She smoothed down her skirt, then held out a palm. She gripped my hand after the shake, though, and pulled in closer. “It could work, Wes.”

I nodded and she kissed my cheek. I expected the same rush from all those years before, but I felt nothing except the dry brush of her lips, and without thinking, I glanced at my phone, hoping to see a message from B.





21





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CLAIRE’S VOICE CUT through my thoughts. “Are you listening to me?” She cast a dismissive look across the table at me, and heat rose on my cheeks. It had been a week since my night with Ben. The night when I’d gotten what I wanted without getting anything I wanted. I couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts. I don’t measure up.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” We were meeting about Body FTW, but my head wasn’t in the game. Claire’s work was still outperforming mine. I rarely let that get to me, but I was having trouble fighting the feeling that I didn’t measure up anywhere.

The progress I’d been so proud of in the previous days and weeks seemed pathetic. I’d doubled up on my workouts, and having something to push through felt like a good distraction. I’d gone for longer and longer walks and skipped the dance class in favor of a spin class that kicked my butt, but it didn’t exactly help me forget. When Ben made it clear I could be dismissed so easily, the rejection had washed over me like a wave, and I never wanted someone to have the ammunition to make me feel like that again. RJ would tell me that was ridiculous, and Del would lecture me on having agency, so I’d ignored their texts. Wes had asked about the changes but returned my message earlier in the week saying he was busy with some personal issues and would be slow to respond for a few days. I’d been equal parts disappointed at not getting to talk to him and relieved I didn’t have to explain myself.