Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(26)
"Hi." I hear the woman on the inside mutter, partially under her breath. "It's Sienna, right?"
Ouch. That one burns more than I would have expected.
"Sierra," I correct her, biting back my snarky remark. The last thing I need is to insult anyone. Regardless of how badly I want to.
"Sure.” She nods absentmindedly and turns back to her orange drink.
I know that I shouldn't take offence to her apparent lack of interest in me, but I've never been good at dealing with women outside of my field.
"It's Tiffany and Lauren, right?" I ask, forcing my shoulders back in an attempt to try and keep my composure. I bet they're planning ways to get me fired as I keep standing here. My mere presence is probably a stain on their entire week.
The girl sitting on the outside of the booth—Tiffany, I think—huffs dramatically and rolls her round, mahogany-coloured eyes. "Yeah, that’s us. Are you going to sit down now? We were waiting for you two to finally get here to order. I'm starving."
The need to shove my face in a brown bag and hyperventilate is starting to make me dizzy.
"Sorry," I mumble quietly and slide myself into the small empty seat beside Tiffany, grateful for the space from Cole. She doesn’t bother giving me any more room on the bench. Pulling down the edge of my navy skirt, I try to ignore the snickers beside me when Cole slides in the booth across from us. He’s not hanging half-off the edge of his seat like I am, though.
"I'm sorry for making you guys wait. I left my wallet at the office and didn't notice until we were almost here. I made us turn back to get it," Cole says, and I meet his gaze, blinking, uncertain as to why he just covered for me. He didn't forget his wallet. Honestly, I didn't even know we were late in the first place. I usually stay at the office later than everybody else in order to get ahead of my workload for the next day. Still, I wasn't even planning on coming to this stupid dinner. How was I supposed to know that Cole was going to drag me here?
"Oh, it's okay!" Lauren pipes up without hesitation and starts twirling a strand of red hair around her pointer finger.
"I ordered you a beer, man. Hope that's okay," Clark says, pushing a full glass of frothy brown liquid in front of Cole. Cole responds with a grateful smile before wrapping his fingers around the dew-covered glass. Clark turns to me now. "We didn't know what you would want, Sierra. But the waitress should be back soon."
Great, thanks. "Alright." I nod and look away from the table to the wall across the restaurant where the bold washroom sign rests. It’s not a unique getaway by any means, but it’s a getaway nonetheless. I slip off the bench without a second thought.
"Where are you going?" Cole asks, concern washing out his features as he stares at the hands clenched tightly around my purse.
"Washroom. I'll have water if the waitress gets here before I'm back." I don't get him a chance to reply before I'm taking off towards the bathroom, hoping like hell that it’s unoccupied. I don’t particularly want nor need an audience when I lose it.
I allow myself the luxury of sucking in a shallow breath, hoping it will somewhat calm me when I successfully maneuver around the crowded tables, only bumping into the backs of a small handful of chairs on my way.
Pulling open the women's room door, I beeline it for an empty stall. I push myself through an open one at the end of the line and shut the door behind me, twisting the lock with shaky fingers. Turning around, I let my back hit the metal and squeeze my eyes closed. My palms press against my eyes until I see static but I don’t care. I’m too worked up right now.
I don't know what I was expecting, showing up to a dinner I knew I wasn't really invited to, but this certainly wasn't it. It's clear that nobody but Cole wants me here, and honestly, I'm still confused as to why he invited me anyway. I have no relation to these people, there is no work relationship or friendship outside of the office. There isn’t even one inside the office.
Tiffany works for Clark, I think, but I have no idea who Lauren works for. The only times I've ever seen her are when she's gossiping with Tiffany in the break room. Unless I’m missing something painfully obvious, I find it odd that those two would have been asked to come tonight as well.
I stay rooted in my place for a few, much-needed minutes before the fog in my brain manages to subside enough for me to form a clear thought again. Fixing my posture, I unlock and open the stall. My heels clink against the floor as I walk to the long, marbled counter, stopping myself in front of one of the four sinks. I turn on the tap and collect some cold water in my hands before splashing my warm cheeks.
With the pink fading from my face, I spare a glance at the stalls and find them all unoccupied, which leaves me in the safe confines of this judgement-free zone for a few seconds longer. The cold-water clings to my cheeks as I stare back at my flushed complexion.
The uneven splotches of light brown freckles cover my pale skin, spreading over my small nose, across my cheeks, and down to my small chin. My silver eyes watch my every move, the obvious judgment in them only sparking my growing annoyance with myself.
I could have been in my fluffy pink robe, sprawled out on the couch watching reality show reruns right now. But no, here I am, hiding in the freaking bathroom because I'm too socially awkward to sit through a single dinner with a few colleagues. Typical Sierra.