Page 23 of Personal Foul
Easton
I’m surprised.I’d expected a no, along with a string of expletives or an explanation of how much she hates my guts. Because that’s exactly how she’s acted since the morning after. Like us fucking somehow doubled her animosity toward me instead of reducing it. But she actually agrees and now I have to figure out how to go up there without attracting too much attention. Our friends will definitely not want me up there alone with her. I’m a menace to all women apparently, even smart ones like Wren who find me repulsive, and our interactions have caused our whole friend group to be wary any time the two of us are together. If they knew we’d fucked, it would only underline their apprehension. Fuck, I’m not even sure I should go near her.
The movie is well into the opening scene though. Waylon and Mac are busy making out and trying to be sly about it, and Liam is whispering something in Liv’s ear so if I’m quiet, I doubt they’ll notice my exit on the other side of the room. I get up slowly, practically tiptoeing my way out like a teenager sneaking out in the middle of the night, making a quiet ascent up the stairs. I rap my knuckles lightly on the door to her room, and she calls out for me to come in.
She’s curled up on her bed, leaning against the wall and staring at her phone. She looks like she’s been crying, but I doubt she’ll like it much if I point that out. It’s good info to have because now I know I’m essentially walking into a lion’s den unprepared when said lion is cranky as fuck and wounded on top of it. I might have been safer downstairs.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down on the edge of the bed, noting that she found the box I left her because it’s been moved to the desk. I’d hedged my bets buying it for her, but hopefully, she took it in the spirit it was intended—a peace offering.
“Hey,” she responds softly, setting her phone down, but still not looking at me.
“So I was thinking about the project,” I charge forward to try and avoid awkward silence. “And what if we did your bar?”
“What?” She frowns, her eyes finally meeting mine.
“I assume it’s struggling. I’ve been in there enough times to see it could certainly be doing better, and you’re working with a skeleton crew half the time which I assume is also not what you’d be doing if you had a healthy balance sheet.”
She doesn’t answer, but I assume the lack of correction is an admission of sorts.
“But the food is good. The place is nice; comfortable, plenty of screens, good atmosphere. It’s even a decent location close to campus. Which makes me think it’s the marketing that could be improved.”
“I mean there is no marketing. I don’t have a budget or the time,” she notes defensively.
“So now you would. And you’ve got access to all the data we’ll need to make a compelling case that it’s successful.”
“Ifit’s successful.”
“It will be,” I say because I have more than a few ideas that I think could bring the place back to life.
“We’d need a budget, and I don’t have it.”
“I’m willing to put money into this if it means we get a real example out of it.”
“I don’t want your fucking charity, Westfield,” she snipes at me.
“It’s not charity, and it’s not for you. It’s for this project, your bar would just happen to benefit from it. This project is important to me, and your bar would be perfect. You could be anyone, and I’d still offer the same. I told you. I want this interview as much as you do,” I argue, trying to cut off her objections.
She stares at me for a few minutes, and then past me at the wall. A soft sigh and a slump of her shoulders have me thinking she might be seeing reason.
“It’s not the worst idea in the world,” she says quietly.
“There’s only one problem I see that we need to hash out first.”
“What’s that?”
“You giving up some control, and letting me do my half of the project. It’ll mean looking at your books and using ideas you may not like.”
Her nose scrunches and I watch her sit a little straighter like she’s about to argue, but she stops.
“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
“So, is it a deal?”
“I want to sleep on it. But probably.”
“You mean you want to come up with excuses not to do it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
