Chapter Seven
“Stop fidgeting,” Devin says.
“I’m not fidgeting.”
He loops his arm through mine as he walks me toward the elevator.
“Yes, you are. And if you pull that top up over your cleavage one more
time, it’ll defeat the whole purpose of your little black dress.” He
grabs my top and yanks it back down, and then proceeds to reach
inside to adjust my bra.
“Devin!” I slap his hand away and he laughs.
“Relax, Lily. I’ve touched way better boobs than yours and I’m still
gay.”
“Yeah, but I bet those boobs were attached to people you probably
hang out with more than once every six months.”
Devin laughs. “True, but that’s half your fault. You’re the one who
left us high and dry to play with flowers.”
Devin was one of my favorite people at the marketing firm I
worked at, but we weren’t close enough to where we actively became
friends outside of work. He stopped by the floral shop this afternoon
and Allysa took to him almost immediately. She begged him to come
to the party with me and since I didn’t really want to show up alone, I
ended up begging him to come, too.
I smooth my hands over my hair and try to catch a glimpse of my
reflection in the elevator walls.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asks.
“I’m not nervous. I just hate showing up to places where I don’t
know anyone.”
Devin smirks knowingly and then says, “What’s his name?”
I release a pent-up breath. Am I that transparent? “Ryle. He’s a
neurosurgeon. And he wants to have sex with me really, really bad.”
“How do you know he wants to have sex with you?”