The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(86)

“No, I don’t think so,” he repeats. He taps his knuckles against the wheels of his chair. “Standing ovations, not really my thing.”

I cringe and want to die. “Oh my God. I’m really sorry.”

“No apology necessary. I’m not easily offended.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

He nods once in acknowledgment. “’S okay.” Then he tilts his head and studies me. “Anyway, I’ve seen you around here a couple of times. And I think you have a really nice face. I have a hard time figuring why it makes that dude want to puke.”

I smile in spite of everything, just for a second. Then reality sets in again, and I cover my eyes with my hand. “Today officially sucks. And I need to clock in. Like, five minutes ago.” I take a deep breath, trying to imagine how I can possibly make myself go back inside. “But I can’t go back in there.”

“I can have your back if you want,” wheelchair guy offers. “Give you an escort.”

I look at him, asking why without saying the question out loud.

He shrugs. “I’m old-school like that. A guy shouldn’t lash out at a girl, and he really had no business putting his hands on you. Just because of a fight or whatever.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” I mumble. “Not his fight, anyway. You certainly don’t have to make it yours.”

But he doesn’t go anywhere, and I don’t ask him to leave.