“If I win, you help me with my PowerPoint for the presentations,” Daniel said.
Asa resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If Daniel ever had a job in his life that required an actual résumé, he’d be the type to put “proficient in Microsoft Office” under the skills section and then spend the whole time at his new job demanding other people show him how to do the things he’d said he already knew how to do.
“And if you win,” Daniel continued. “I’ll take you on a date.”
Making it sound like a prize for her, and a sacrifice for him. What a jackass.
Lauren glanced up at Asa, almost like she was waiting for him to intervene. But what could he say? No, you can’t do this because either way you lose? You can’t do it because I hate the idea that you might want to win?
“Go for it,” he said. “Kiki can judge.”
There was no way he could be impartial.
Asa called Kiki over, and they established the rules—the test boxes were chosen to be relatively equal in size and shape, and the task was to do the best wrapping job they could in a single try, with time factoring in only in the case of a tie.
Daniel actually put more effort into the competition than Asa might’ve expected. Such was the power of having someone else do your work for you as a potential prize. But Lauren went for the pro move of finishing off the sides of her present with the elegant double triangle approach, sealing the points in the middle with a single piece of tape. She had a crinkle in one corner, but Asa would’ve picked hers, hands down.
Kiki made a big show of picking up both presents, examining them from all sides like she was a judge on one of those cupcake shows they’d watched at the house.
Finally she set them down, stepping away from the table with an officious air. “And the winner is . . .”
There was no anticipation to it. Asa knew who it would have to be. He just found himself watching Lauren’s face, wondering how she’d react once her name was called.
Lauren fingered the rose pendant around her neck, rubbing her thumb against it. She didn’t look at Asa, but somehow that not looking felt more pointed than any direct attention could’ve been. He knew she wanted to. He could feel it, pulling taut between them like an invisible string.
“Lauren!”
Chapter
Fifteen
By the time Lauren came home to her apartment, tossing her keys on the counter and sorting through her mail, it felt like a lifetime had passed since that morning when she’d woken up on the floor of her office with Asa.
He’d gotten up first, which meant there was a good chance he’d seen her with drool on her face or in some other compromising position. But by the time she sat up, turning off her phone alarm, he was already folding up his blankets and setting her office back to rights. The potted ficus was still strung up with Christmas lights and ornaments, there were pieces of tinsel on the floor, and probably somewhere on her desk was the crumpled list from where they’d been playing their game, although she hadn’t been able to find it.
She didn’t know what to say or how to act around him, so she’d settled for not saying much at all. But then he’d kissed her.
That quick, emphatic kiss had put her in a daze all day. What did it mean? Was it an ending . . . or a beginning? And which did Lauren want it to be?
She was overthinking it. Asa had probably forgotten about the whole thing by now. He’d even facilitated the contest that had led to her winning a date with Daniel—a feat that only a few days ago she would’ve been over the moon about. But she’d had trouble concentrating on it at all, had struggled all day to focus on much of anything.
It had been a late night, and a long day. She was exhausted.
She looked first for whether there was anything from the accounting program where she’d applied for grad school, even though she was pretty sure they did all notifications by email now. Most of the mail was the usual coupon packs and glossy flyers, but there was an envelope from Miss Bianca. She sliced it open with her finger, smiling down at the picture of a llama wearing a festive scarf, fa-la-la-llama! printed across the top in block letters.
She opened it, although she already knew what it would say. Miss Bianca’s annual Christmas card often said a variant of the same thing, and even though it was a relatively short message, it always meant a lot to Lauren.
Thinking of you, and hope you’re happy and healthy.
xo MB
Miss Bianca probably bought the cards in a hundred-pack and sent one to each of the many kids who’d passed through her home over the years, even the angry twelve-year-old who’d lived there for a few months, who’d been removed after threatening Lauren with a knife. Eddie reminded her of that boy a little bit, although as far as she knew he was adjusting much better to his placement. It was something around the eyes, a toughness barely masking an almost desperate fear.