Page 41 of When Glitter Meets Gold

I updated her on the Drew situation over text while I was at the airport, so when she picks up on the first ring, not only is she clued up with most of the experience, she also has plenty time to form a groveling apology for giving Drew the hotel’s address.

“I am so sorry. I should be fired as your friend. I thought he was just curious. If I’d known he’d bust in there all butlerin the buff, I swear I wouldn’t have given him the location.” Amber talks a hundred miles per hour on speakerphone.

I sink further back into the sofa. “I’m not mad at you. It was his insane idea to get on a plane.”

“I can’t believe he just started wiggling his hips in your face, like the sight of a cock slapping from thigh to thigh was gonna make you want to ride him,” Amber says, grossed out. “He totally blew it. If he’d just waited, you could’ve been planning your first date still.”

I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t think we were ever destined to date. Besides, I didn’t even have time to recover from…how I spent last night.” I slip it in casually, gearing up for telling Amber about what really happened last night.

I start at the beginning. I tell her about the Jeep, the storm, the encounter with the moose, the mysterious “not a Mountain Rescue” guy, and then, I tell her about Jack.

I tell her every detail about the boy who tormented me as a kid and the man he turned into. I tell her every grizzly detail.

Thirty minutes later, it turns out she’s not so interested in Drew after all. It turns out, Jack has more to be curious about.

“Okay, if you’d told me about this first, I would totally get why you don’t give a crap about Drew anymore.” Amber bursts with excitement.

“Uh, I don’t give a crap about Drew because he broke into my hotel room before he’d even bought me dinner.” I roll my eyes. “And…what do you mean?”

“I mean, you were rescued by what sounds like some sexy lumberjack type, trapped in a storm together, inside a tent where you asked him to hold your hand and thenjokedabout him becoming a weighted blanket.Yourweighted blanket,” Amber says shrilly.

“So?”

“So, you were flirting with him!” Her shriek echoes throughout my apartment. “Youwantedhim on top of you. And you’ve got the nerve to act shocked when he woke up with a freaking stiff one.”

I laugh as I push chopsticks into a packed box of chow mein. “Come on, that wasn’t flirting, I was just lightening the mood.”

Amber sighs. “Hey, I’m not calling you out. I’m just disappointed you wasted a perfectly good opportunity to fuck in a tent on a stormy night.”

And then I’m lost in thought, caught up in the possibility that I was actually flirting with him. I shake my head. It was the scotch. I never would have made the joke if it wasn’t for the scotch. But then, the memory of Jack crushing against me after the moose incident in the storm plays over in my mind. Before scotch had any part to play. It wasn’t flirting, but there was a connection. Something about the way the rain fell from the tips of my hair and splashed onto his face while he watched me with more focus than any man ever has in my life. He’d held onto my waist so tightly while reassuring me that things were okay.

I wrap a hand around my middle, searching for the spot on my hips I’d felt Jack grip hold of. When I find the curve of my hipbone, I squeeze tightly.

“You know the chances of you running into him are slimmer than being struck by lightning.” Amber concludes. “And you know what, you don’t seemsotraumatized from the entire thing. You camped in the wilderness, I didn’t think that was something you could do without being immediately airlifted into therapy after.” She pauses, making contemplativehmmsounds. “Maybe this Jackhad somewhat of a calming effect on you. What’s his last name?I’ll stalk him online and keep him on hand for when you have your next fruit fly episode.”

An unattractive snort vibrates through my nasal passage, and I snatch my hand from my waist. “He had no effect on me.” Then my brows knit together as it occurs to me that I don’t know his current last name because he didn’t get around to telling me.

The truth is, the way Jack looked at me after I tended to his wound is another thing that won’t leave my mind. He’d looked at me like someone who had their shit together. Of the person I can be when given room to be myself. The strong version that can handle tense situations without screaming or passing the baton of responsibility. I didn’t have to fight to prove my competence because he looked at me like we were equal. And in that moment, I’d been reminded of what it felt like to be the old me. And it felt really fucking good.

I keep a low profile over the next few days, because even though I’ve decided that I never want to tell another lie as long as I live, I know I have to figure out something to tell everyone at SB that won’t compromise the promotion.

Not to mention if I come clean about the Jeep accident, Kandi will never let me forget it, Francis will circulate it throughout the office until the world ends, and Walter will never utter the wordsyou have my respectever again.

I spend my first day back home glued to my laptop, a summoning circle of notebooks spread around me while I map out the idea that came to me back in Maine. That foggy idea with blurred edges has now taken shape and I plan on spending the rest of the day forming a solid outline, as wellas figuring out how to hold my boss’s attention long enough for him to hear my pitch…

The rest of my time is taken up by simple things, like rearranging my apartment, stealthy salon visits, and sketching terrible images of the interior of a certain tent.

On Thursday afternoon, I’m in the middle of lounging with my laptop propped on my thighs when my eyes snag on a particular email from Raj.

It’s an invitation to the opening of a cocktail bar in one of, if notthemost, exclusive parts of New York, and it’s on Saturday. I narrow my eyes wondering why Street Bandit,a street food app, would be added to the guest list.

Instead of dwelling over details, I note how the timing of the opening, just so happens to align perfectly with the day I’m expected to arrive back from the hike. A week ago, I would have come up with any excuse to stay at home, but I guess after a night spent in the wilderness, maybe I’m ready to restore the balance.

A moment later, Amber’s name is lighting up my phone screen from the coffee table.

“Please tell me you’re going. And then tell me you’re taking me as your plus-one.” Amber chirps from speakerphone before I have time to say hello. “Because you owe me for going along with the hike plan. I’ll take this as payment. And don’t give me shit about not feeling like leaving your apartment. It’s the Upper East Side. We’re going.”

I roll my shoulder blades into a lumpy velvet cushion. “Are you talking about this launch party at…Midas?”I ask as I peer at the email on the screen of my laptop, noting where it states I’m permitted to bring a plus-one. “Yeah, I guess I could go.”

---