Kiss and Don't Tell(124)

He opens the door, and just like the good friend he is, he hands me an ice-cold margarita.

“Bless you,” I say.

“Chips and salsa are downstairs, waiting. I’ll let you get changed and then you can tell me all about the interview.”

“Sounds great.”

My phone buzzes and Max smirks.

“One guess who that is.”

Rolling my eyes, I push at Max and he leaves me to my room as I look at my phone.

Yup, we both knew who it was.

Pacey: The anticipation is killing me. How did it go?

Winnie: Just ended.

My phone buzzes in my hand, but it isn’t a text. Pacey is actually calling me.

Oh God, do I answer?

Texting is easy, you can think about your response, but a phone call?

I bite my bottom lip, trying to decide.

God, just answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His deep baritone rings through the phone. “I hope this is okay, me calling.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s totally cool,” I say awkwardly.

“Okay, because I really wanted to hear you tell me about the interview. You killed it, didn’t you?”

I move out of my desk chair and go to my bed, where I lie on my stomach and kick up my heels. I feel like a teenager, talking to her crush for the first time on the phone . . . and if I think about it, this is the first time I’m talking to him on the phone.

“I wouldn’t say killed it. I said something awkward but I think it came out more endearing.”

“What did you say?”

I feel at ease talking to him on the phone, comfortable. “They asked those weird questions, you know, that big tech companies ask. They asked how much I would charge to walk every dog in Seattle.”

“What?” He laughs, and it’s such an addicting sound. I want to hear it more.

“That was my same reaction, but I held it together. I cleared my throat and asked, ‘Am I in charge of picking up feces, as well?’”

“Great follow-up question.”

“I thought so. And they said yes. So then I cringed and said, ‘Well, that would be an upcharge,’ and I left it at that. I didn’t give them an exact answer, which I know they wanted, but that’s all I could offer on the spot today.”

“I think it’s a great answer. It’s endearing.”

“Thank you. Luckily, I was brought to them highly recommended by their recruiter, so hopefully I have a leg up on the competition.”

“I’m sure you do. You got it, Winnie. I really think you did.”

“We shall see.” Not wanting to get off the phone, I ask, “How’s physical therapy going? Have you had any migraines?”

“Woke up with a headache today, but it was nothing compared to what I’ve experienced in the past. Doc said that initial PT will stir up the muscles and ligaments and to expect pain. But other than that, it’s going pretty well. I’ve been seeing an ART therapist, and no, not the drawing kind.”

“Active release, right?” I ask.

“You know about that?”

“Yeah, Max has been studying to become certified. He swears by it. He’s practiced on me and Katherine and it really feels like magic. Although, if it were truly magic, he’d be able to find Katherine’s chill button and release that.”

He chuckles. “Let me guess, Katherine didn’t partake in tacos?”

“Her direct quote was ‘enjoy your arsenic.’”

“Arsenic—now that’s pretty strong.”

“That’s what I thought. You’d think she’d choose something more subtle. But she just went for it.”

“Ballsy going big like that, but she seems like a ballsy woman.”

I chuckle. “That she is.”





“Max! Katherine!” I scream as I run down the stairs, tripping on the last one and flying into the front door with a crash.

“Jesus Christ,” Max says, coming to the entryway to help me up. “What the hell are you doing?”

When I catch my breath, I look him in the eyes and whisper, “I got it.”

“Got what?” His eyes widen. “Wait, the job? You got the job?”

I nod as tears start to form in my eyes.

Max lifts me up and over his broad shoulder and parades me down the hallway while shouting, “Our girl got the job.”

“Really?” Katherine asks, standing from the couch.

Max sets me down and I look at both of them. “Yes, I got it. I got the freaking job.”

We all look at each other, and then in unison we scream while dancing in circles.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing,” Max says. “We’re celebrating. I’m getting tacos.”

Katherine holds up her hand. “I’ll go get them. You start on the margaritas.”

Max groans. “I used the last of the tequila on the other ones.”

Katherine points her finger at him. “This is exactly why you save tequila for big moments, not a random Tuesday. You get the booze, I’ll get the tacos.” She looks at me. “Are you going to want flan?” She waves her hand. “What am I saying? Of course you will, and some of those churros. We’re on it. Come on, Max.”