Guilt. It’s my fault she has no friends. Well, none except for Cal and me, that is.
You’re the one who told her you don’t want to be her friend.
My stomach churns as I consider how I rejected her friendship. With so few left, I’m sure she takes them very seriously.
That’s why she helped you in the first place. She really does consider you a friend.
Except I don’t want to be her friend. Not when she elicits all these feelings inside of me that are nothing close to platonic.
Who said you can’t be both?
I should have never ordered another drink after our empty plates were removed from in front of us. The amber liquid serves as a reminder of my moment of weakness. Iris was ready to go the moment the reporter paid her bill and left, but I was the one who wanted to stay.
The thought alone pains me more than I ever care to admit.
I take a sip of my drink, only allowing the smallest amount of liquid to slip past my lips. Iris seems somewhat perturbed at how I make an ounce of whiskey last longer than all her past relationships combined. I’m selfish for keeping her out this late on a weeknight, but I can’t help it. Watching her speak about topics besides work is fascinating.
She talks until she’s breathless, filling the silence I have grown accustomed to with her endless chatter. There isn’t a single subject she speaks about that isn’t filled with passion and intrigue.
A dilapidated house she saw while driving home that seemed perfect for a renovation. How much fun she has visiting her mother’s classroom. Her plan to attend Nana’s cornhole championship coming up next week at church.
I didn’t even know there was such a thing as cornhole championships, let alone that Nana was the reigning champ.
I’m thoroughly enjoying my time with Iris, to the point that I don’t want it to end.
“Are you almost done?” Iris shatters my thoughts with the stark reality.
“With?”
She glares at my drink. “Your overpriced glass of whiskey.”
“I can afford it.”
“You have the same bottle at the house for half the cost.”
But would I have the same company? Probably not. The thought of drinking alone tonight seems unbearable. I’ve spent an entire lifetime by myself, and while it was never a problem before, it is slowly becoming intolerable.
“I’m enjoying the view.”
She glances out the window. “Says the man who hasn’t even looked outside once.”
“That’s not the view I’m talking about.”
Her eyes find their way back to mine. I’m startled when she drops her head back as a laugh explodes out of her. It’s rough and raspy, drawing the attention of multiple patrons. Warmth rushes through me at the sound despite knowing her amusement is at my expense.
By the time she looks back at me, her eyes have a watery shine to them and she can’t seem to take enough deep breaths.
My hand tightens around the glass as I take another chug. “What the hell was that?”
She dabs at the corners of her eyes. “The reporter left. You don’t need to pretend anymore.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“That’s… concerning.”
“I don’t see it as such.”
“No.”
“No?” What the hell is she even talking about?
“No,” she speaks with a firmer voice this time. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”
“How exactly is this supposed to go?” I won’t admit I’m confused, but damn I feel it. Everything about her confuses me. From the pinched feeling in my chest whenever she laughs to the draw I feel toward her at all hours of the day.
“We work together.”
“And?”
Her deep sigh echoes the one building inside of me. “We have a deal.”
“Are you stating the obvious solely to annoy me?”
“Of course not. I’m simply pointing out the stakes. There is far too much riding on our relationship for us to screw it up because we’re horny and confused.”
I don’t miss the way she says we, although I think she did.
“I’m not confused. Far from it, actually. I know exactly what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“You.”
The way she laughs makes me want to stifle it with my lips against hers. I settle on latching onto her hand, which sobers her enough to stop laughing at my expense.
She tries to rip her palm out of mine, but I hold on.
“This has to be some kind of sick joke.”