Page 5 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
RILEY
If I have to explain this to her again, I’m going to lose my mind.
“Really, that’s it,” I say with an exasperated chuckle. “He said the food looked good, asked where I worked, and that he wanted my number so we could go for coffee. I gave it to him and then you called me over.”
Taylor arches a perfectly plucked brow, mulling over my words as she nibbles at her sandwich.
“And then he immediately texted you and called you a good girl.”
“No. He told me tobe good,” I correct her, kicking her foot lightly beneath the table.
Not that I wouldn’t have minded him calling me a good girl.
She shrugs an elegant shoulder, grinning wickedly. “Mypointis that a gorgeous man asked you out and immediately texted you, and you’re still wondering if he was hitting on you.”
I pout, stealing a chip from her plate and pointing at her with it.
“Immediately texted me, to which I textedback, and then hasn’t texted me again since.”
Taylor rolls her pretty green eyes at me affectionately, stealing a French fry from my plate, mirroring my movements.
“So text him again,” she tells me. “Guys like forward women.”
I snort as she pops the fry into her mouth.
“Oh yeah,me, famously the most forward person on the planet,” I drawl.
Taylor chuckles, leaning back in the rickety plastic chair and stretching her long arms above her head.
“Look, Riles, you thought this guy was hot, yeah?” I nod. “And he obviously thought you were too. Just text him. Worst case, it’s a blow to your ego. Best case, he’s some mega-rich guy who was slammed with work and falls head over heels for you. What do you have to lose?”
My dignity by looking desperate and ridiculous?
I groan, not wanting to admit that she has a point. Flirting in person is hard enough; I have no idea where to start with flirting over text.
“He was probably just being nice.”
“Men aren’tniceto women they don’t want to fuck,” she says drily.
“Okay, Miss Pessimist,” I reply with a chuckle.
She leans over the table to squeeze my hand affectionately, her chunky gold rings glittering under the fluorescent lights of the cafe. “Look, I haven’t even met this guy—he could be a totalloser,butI’m willing to make an exception and tell you to go after it just this once. It’s just texting. You can disappear if he starts getting weird. Honestly, I’m willing to take anything if it helps you get over your crush on D’Amico.”
My cheeks flare in embarrassment, but it’s not like I didn’t know where this was going. Taylor’s been trying to get me to give up on my boss since I first mentioned it. I’ve been obsessed with him since first glance when I was still interning for D’Amico Global.
“Hush! I’m never telling you about my crushes again.”
Taylor laughs fondly, but any response she’d have offered is cut by our alarms going off in tandem.
“Whoever suggested thirty-minute lunch breaks is a monster,” Taylor grumbles.
We gather our trays and toss our trash before heading back outside into the chilly streets. The snow has long since melted, but the nip of winter hasn’t quite left the air yet.
“Don’t work too hard,” she tells me. “Text me later. And text your mystery man too!”
“Whatever you say!” I say with a laugh.
We go our separate ways, heading back to our respective offices, and I enjoy the fresh air until I make it back to the office. The elevator is crowded with people so I huddle in among them, listening to their random small talk as background noise. The trip from the elevator to my cubicle is short, and I clock back in as I clear my head of any talks about mystery men or my boss.
