Page 62 of Caleb
“It is, actually.”
Shut up, Caleb.
“The most exciting days are probably the ones where I either asked to be SOS’d out of a party or had to be rushed to the ER.” She snorts.
“That SOS text was exciting,” I say, crossing my arms at my chest, “but rushing you to the ER wasn’t. I hate to see you get hurt or sick or both.”
“Well, I’ll probably SOS my way through life in New York, so your presence there will be required.” She smiles wistfully like she, too, understands there’s a big possibility I won’t be coming along for the New York ride.
“You look—nice—tonight.” I stumble on my own words. I look down and smile at my feet for a second. Embarrassed. Because it turns out I forgot how to compliment a beautiful woman without sounding like an idiot.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice bordering on a whisper.
I look up at her again, feeling like slapping myself, but I don’t. “And the dress, it’s green. Your favorite color.”Like your eyes. Kill me now. Thankfully, I just said that last part inside my head.
She looks at herself and says, “I know, I love it. The designer sent the dress for me to wear tonight. It made me feel so special, like those models or celebrities that get stuff sent to them all the time. I better hang on to this dress because this is not something that’s happening ever again.” She scrunches up her nose cutely. But her teeth start chattering.
“You’re freezing.” I take a step forward. “Let’s get you back inside.”
“I’m good. It was just a momentary chill.”
“A what?” I grimace. “You’re freezing. Let’s go.” I place my arm on her shoulder to herd her back in. She parts her lips to argue, without a doubt, when Aaron clears his throat.
“Kiddo! There you are,” Ambassador Murphy says with an unsettling grin, walking our way. I drop my hand from Red’s shoulder. But not fast enough for the Ambassador’s liking because he’s already eye-laser-beaming my torso in half. “Aren’t you cold? What are you doing out here?” He’s talking to her but looking at me. It’s so disturbing.
“Just needed some fresh air,” she replies nonchalantly. It’s like she can’t see how her father would bite my head off if he could. Or maybe I’m seeing things because I don’t like the guy, and I consider everything he says and does to be an attack. Perhaps she’s used to him being an insufferable bastard. “Can I go up to my room now?”
“Of course, kiddo,” he coos, throwing his arm around her shoulders and guiding her back up the stairs. He stops for a second and turns around to address us. “I’ll take it from here. It’s been a long day.”
“Of course, Mr. Ambassador,” Aaron says. But I don’t even bother to reply. I simply nod once, biting so hard my jaw pops out.
“Good night, guys,” she says, looking at me.
Ambassador Murphy’s lips go flat as he nods back before turning around and resuming his walk up the stairs. Aaron and I are waiting for them to disappear inside the Residence, and once Red’s inside, the ambassador looks over his shoulder at us and says, “Oh, and I’ll see you both in my office tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. sharp. We have a lot to discuss.”
Aaron and I share a knowing look before making our way back to our sleeping quarters in silence.
Talk about death by self-inflicted sleep deprivation.
Front and Back
March 9, 2009
MY ALARM JUST WENT OFF,and it’s 5:45 a.m. My head pounds as my breath catches in my chest. My mind wouldn’t shut down all night—the downside of being sober. Convincing myself about the absurdity of thinking Ambassador Murphy wouldn’t ask me to come with them to New York was the only way to make the thoughts cease, and finally, I fell asleep a couple of hours ago.
There isn’t a valid reason for him to fire me.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
I change into my workout clothes and head down to the gym. Thankfully, it’s empty. Hitting the gym and going out for a run is what usually helps me blow off steam and clear my head. And right now, Ineedthat. But there’s no time for running this morning.
Those are the consequences of hitting the snooze button three times this morning. Lifting weights will have to do. Red’s got an early morning class, so we are scheduled to leave at 6:45 a.m. to get to school on time at 7:15 a.m.
Once showered, face trimmed, and dressed in a full suit, I move toward the common room to grab a cup of coffee. Everyone’s there. Everyone’s talking, and I’m not in the mood for any of it. So I grab my mug and stand in front of the window to watch the cars drive by Saint-Honoré.
“Morning,” Aaron says, standing beside me. I jerk my chin at him as a greeting. “You’re not getting fired today, so quit the brooding act already.”
I almost spit out my coffee. Aaron’s basically a walking ad for broodiness, but I can’t be in my head for two minutes before getting called out for it.
