Page 60 of Just the Tipsy
“Then I’ll try something when you’re up to it.” His voice takes on that low heat that I’m becoming addicted to. “Anyway, did you want help with the business stuff? Because I’m happy to.”
I swallow my pride and say, “sure.”
I wake up my laptop again and show him what I’m studying. He scans the document, his rich brown eyes flicking back and forth.
“Okay, I remember this. What are you getting tripped up on?” He sits back in his seat.
He doesn’t sound judgmental. Then again, I doubt he would seem that way. I know him by now. I explain the problem I’m having and he listens intently before explaining it back to me in a way I actually understand.
I’m supposed to keep this relationship compartmentalized, but how can I if Waylon is so fucking irresistible doing the most mundane things?
“Thank you,” I say once I wrap my head around the concept. “I just want to get good enough at business stuff to not embarrass myself at meetings.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great.” He takes off his hat and rakes a hand through his hair. “In my experience it’s easier to remember stuff when it’s relevant to what I’m actually interested in. It might be the same for you. And there’s probably some app or program that can do all the number stuff for you.”
“Maybe, yeah.” I try to think of applying the concepts to the spa. “I haven’t felt this enthusiastic about something before, but mostly it’s just anxiety. Most businesses fail, don’t they? And if Ifail, then what do I do? I don’t want to go back to modeling and I don’t want to move home. It has to work.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. My damn period. I’d rather die than break down in front of someone, especially Waylon, but my body might make the decision for me.
“Then you figure something else out.” He shrugs, resting a forearm on the table. We’re sitting close enough to each other that his body heat is softly radiating against my thigh. “Which is the worst answer in the world, but it’s kind of true.”
I shoot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You actually have skills you can fall back on.”
“So do you. Or at least you’re trying to build them.” He nods toward my laptop. “You can always learn something new and try something else.”
This man’s optimism is almost infectious. Almost.
“I wish you didn’t make sense sometimes.” I sigh, and he just smiles.
“I just see that you’re underestimating yourself.” He leans back in his seat and stretches, his arm coming to rest on the back of my seat. His arm isn’t quite touching me, but it’s close enough that I want more. “You left everything you knew after a breakup and moved to Jepsen of all places. And on top of that, you’re actively trying new things that aren’t entirely comfortable. An average person doesn’t do that.”
“Because those “new things” are shit that most normal people have already done with their lives?”
“Bianca.” He gives me a look, then gently touches my shoulder. “Be honest — would any of the people you used to hang with back in LA do anything like this? Voluntarily with no other reward than wanting to grow as a person?”
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head.
“So, there you go. It’s a big deal to you. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a ‘big deal’ in the big scheme of things.” He shrugs. “You’re taking a leap.”
“You should add motivational speaker to your resume.” I can’t help but crack a smile.
“Not hard to motivate someone when they’re already doing good stuff.” He pushes back from the table. “I should get back to it. Thanks for the water.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
He squeezes my shoulder, and the light gesture makes me flush from head to toe. I watch him leave, my eyes drifting down his back. Once he’s out of the room I sag further into my seat.
Is there any point to me trying to compartmentalize this? It almost feels like building a wall with paper and expecting it to hold back a flood.
NINETEEN
WAYLON
Ash: Sup nerds, how many strippers are we getting for Wes’s bachelor party?
Why isAsh texting me and JD about this at eleven in the morning? Then again, I have no idea what time zone he’s in. But also, I wouldn’t put it past him to be thinking about strippers at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.
Me: Wes said no strippers
