Page 31 of Not Safe For Work

And then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Sparkles? You okay?” I crack open my lids to find a very concerned Gavin peering down at me. Before I can respond he points to my ear. “Can I?”

I nod and he pulls the tiny headphone out of my ear. I thought he just wanted to talk, but instead he sits down on the bench next to me—so close our arms and thighs are touching—and pops the bud in.

The song I’m listening to is my favorite. I have no idea what it’s about, but the melody feels like that first sip of rosé, like walking barefoot in soft grass or sliding into bed under freshly laundered crisp sheets. It’s not sensual exactly but it’s the kind of song I’d want to cuddle to. It’s one that immediately relaxes me, which is why it’s the first on the playlist.

Gavin presses a little harder against my side and I realize he’s swaying to the beat.

I relax my shoulders and let him guide me side to side until a smile breaks free from my lips.

“Better?” he asks, turning to face me.

“Yeah. Thanks.” A new song starts, and I turn it off, placing my AirPods back in their case after Gavin hands me his.

“I liked the song.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” I admit.

“What’s it called?”

“Tableau. I think it might mean desk, but I try to pretend it’s something more romantic.”

“You’ve never looked up the translation? Not even for a favorite song?” He looks incredulous. I wonder if the patience and the curiosity has worn off, if he just thinks it’s weird now. He pulls out his phone and starts typing vigorously. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It meanspainting.”

The emphasis he places on the word makes it seem like I should understand. Is there a joke I’m not getting?

“Okay?”

“Liv. You say you’re not an artist, yet your favoriteFrenchsong meanspainting. You’ve got to see the irony here.”

He laughs a bit, and the sound rings through me. I’ve always loved his laugh. It’s never mocking, never at anyone else’s expense. He rarely cracks a smile most days at work, but when it does happen, he laughs for joy and joy alone.

“Maybe you’re right. I tried the sales thing, but I can always fall back on painting murals with Mom.”

“Nope. I’d miss you too much.” His words feel genuine, no matter how well I know he’s joking. “I saw you talking to Mitch over here. What happened?”

“Oh, just my career imploding. He thinks I’m using you as leverage so he can’t fire me.”

“What? Since when is your job at risk?”

“No idea,” I respond. Because I can’t even keep track of the mess I’m in. “I don’t think he actually wants to fire me, but he likes to screw with my head. Let’s just come clean soon, because as soon as we do it’s gonna be such a shit storm for me.” I huff out a long breath and try my best not to imagine what those rumors will look like.

“So let’s not.”

A breeze rolls by and a loose lock of hair escapes my braid, brushing against my lips. Gavin is right there, ready to tuck it behind my ear. He’s so tactile with me and I find myself enjoying it more each day.

But it’s messing with my head. Is he like this with everyone?

“Why?” I ask. “Why would you want to keep this up indefinitely?”

“Why not?”

“Gavin,” I say with a bit more force than intended. I can’t handle his laissez faire attitude about this anymore.

“Olivia,” he mocks. I give him a pleading look. “Just tell me what you want to do, and I’ll back you up one hundred percent.”

“But I’m in over my head here. I have no idea what I should do.” I stop to take a breath because I can feel the spiral coming.“If we come clean, Mitch will think he was right. And if I can’t close Surf and Stream, and at record speed apparently, I’ll never get promoted and I’ll have to find a new job and start all over.”

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