Page 62 of Elevator Pitch

“Does he have a brother? I’m so serious.”

I chuckle. “He does, but he’s a bit young for you. Twenty, studying med at NYU.”

She looks impressed. “So, he knows the female anatomy. I could wait. Probably won’t meet a man before he graduates who knows where my clit is anyway.”

We’re screeching with laughter.

After I say goodbye to the girls, I’m packing for my upcoming trip to Portland and I’m not looking forward to it. I love my job, but my anxiety is put to the test whenever I work inperson. While we're a solid team, as their leader, I am the face of this group, which means I do a great deal of public speaking in this role. At least when I work from home and get anxious or overstimulated, I can decompress easier than I can in the office. I’ve scheduled a session with Dr. Garnett tomorrow and will fly there Saturday to hang out with Skye before the summit on Monday. While I am excited to see her, I’m still anxious about my presentations this week, but Greyson helped, oddly enough.

When I suggested he help me with the list, I didn’t expect him to be so eager to please. No man has ever done anything like that to me and I’m still grappling with it. He was being truthful when he said he was the right man for the job, but I’m even more curious about him now. I’ve told myself not to text him, but visions of his eyes piercing me as he laps at my core flood my mind. I shudder at the thought and grab my vibrator to toy with myself. When my lids shut, our film reel plays on repeat. I imagine him unraveling as pleasure jolts through me. I cry his name into the dark and wonder if he’s doing the same.

28

sweet tooth

Greyson

Manhattan, NY | January 8, 2024

After droppingCliff off at home, I hop on the elevator, press the sixth floor, and wait anxiously as I descend. It's been four days, and I haven't heard a peep from Selah, so I've decided to take matters into my own hands.

I take a deep breath before I exit the elevator. As I get closer, my nerves get the best of me, but I bite the bullet and force my feet to keep shuffling closer ‘til I reach her door. I press her doorbell, clutching the box hard enough that I could crush it. I take a step back, psyching myself up as I wait and hope she answers the door for me. It’s been about thirty seconds, but it feels like thirty minutes. I hear heels clacking on the other side of the door. I really hope she’s not going on another damn date. The knob turns softly, and my thoughts subside when I see a petite shapely woman answer Selah’s door. I freeze, and we stare at each other for a moment before I decide to speak up.

She looks so familiar.

She parts her lips to speak. “So, we meet again. You look so different when your ex isn’t draining thelife out of you.”

As her distinctive jazzy tone fills the space, I recall where I last heard it.

This woman is the wedding planner.

Aileen’s fucking wedding planner.

At a loss for words, I stand there processing and panicking. She goes silent and sizes me up. Her glare hasn’t wavered, and she stands firm in the doorway.

This is such an odd interaction.

What is she doing here, and where is Selah?

Does Selah know Aileen?

My stomach turns at the thought of them being friends.

She breaks the silence and holds eye contact.

“And people keep telling me to stop playing God. This,” she says, pointing between us. “This is why I won’t stop. I put the bug in your ear, and you managed to find her.”

“Excuse me. What is it you’re talking about? I’m lost here.”

“When we met at the engagement party, I tried to set you up with a friend of mine, but I had to take a call. When I got back to the bar, you were gone. Remember?”

I think back to that conversation.

Radiant like a field of sunflowers.

Holy shit. Selah is ‘sunflower girl.’

“When did you meet her?” she asks, yanking me from my thoughts.

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