“Well, I can try . . .”
“I know,” I say, fairly confident he won’t be able to. “But just . . . try.”
“Is there a problem?” a voice says from behind Jerry. It’s a very British one.
Jerry darts in front of my computer, quickly and covertly clicking off the screen. I say a little prayer of thanks to the twisted mind that created Jerry and his swiftness. All his high-energy craziness can be annoying, but it has saved me a few times. Like right now, for instance. I’m saved from Henry having to see me rap the f-word.
How long before he sees it, though? How long before everyone sees it?
“No problem,” I say, giving him what I’m sure is a super fake grin. I feel like I’m channeling Moriarty, I’m so fake right now.
Henry looks to Jerry, and then to me, and then to Brady. Then his eyes move downward to my hand in Brady’s. His brow pinches before his eyes lift to mine.
I see his questioning expression and immediately let go of Brady’s hand and move to grab my purse as a deflection.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Brady says. There’s a different tone to his voice. It’s sort of territorial sounding. As if he got a vibe from Henry, who got a vibe from him, and now Brady is marking his territory.
“Uh . . . I . . . yeah . . . Sure,” I flounder, looking from Henry, whose nostrils are now slightly flared, to Brady, who reaches over and grabs my hand once again.
Henry gives me an odd look, shakes his head, as if to make sense of what he’s seeing, and then turns to Jerry. “Can I have a moment?” he asks him.
Jerry and Henry walk away together. Henry does a quick look over his shoulder at Brady and me as they go.
“I can try to get it taken down,” Brady says.
“What?” I turn my face to his.
“The . . . the rap.”
For a second, I’d forgotten about that stupid rap. “Could you?” I ask Brady, and instant hope fills my chest.
He lifts a shoulder and then drops it. “I can’t guarantee it, but I’ll try. For you.” He gives me a closed-mouth smile.
“Thank you,” I say on a breath. I lean in toward him; lifting my chin, I place a kiss on his cheek. I’m not sure it was my best move if I’m trying to keep this thing just fun and friendly between us.
“You ready?” Brady asks. He lets go of my hand and places his hand on my lower back as he walks me out of the office.
~*~
“OMG, you’re a rap,” Thomas says with glee as I sit down at our normal table at Hester’s, in between him and Holly.
I should have known if anyone would have seen it first, it would have been Thomas. I’m fairly certain he has Google Alerts set up in my name.
“Who’s seen it?” I ask my group of friends. The gang’s all here, including Holly’s brooding sidekick, Logan.
Holly, Bree, Thomas, Alex, and even Logan slowly raise their hands.
I huff out a breath, setting my purse down by the side of my chair.
“How many times did you watch it?” I turn my head to Thomas.
“Like a hundred.” He says this as if I shouldn’t be shocked by it. I am a little shocked. I expected more.
“You do all know that every time you watch the video, it counts toward views, right?”
They all have the decency to look ashamed. Well, everyone but Thomas. And Logan doesn’t look like he cares. But he’s also probably only seen it the one time. Viral videos are not Logan’s thing. I wish there were more Logans in this world.
“Are you okay?” Holly asks, her face tilted, her lips turned slightly downward.
“No,” I say, letting my shoulders slump. “This will haunt me forever, won’t it?”
“Probably,” Thomas says, and I give him my death stare, which actually makes him flinch.
“I’d love to say that it will die down, but I feel like I said that last time,” Bree says, keeping up with her non-sugarcoating ways.
Holly puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I wish there were something we could do.”
“Can you take down YouTube?” I ask Thomas.
He rubs his jaw with his fingers. “Probably. But what fun would that be? I’d lose all access to my favorite ASMR videos.”
I shake my head at him. Thomas watching ASMR videos where the YouTubers talk in a soothing voice or just record the sounds of them eating or drinking doesn’t sound like something he’d do. But then again, Thomas does surprise me often.
“Besides, now we have a new video to bring us joy.” He presses a button on his phone, and my rapping potty mouth plays at full blast. Which luckily isn’t that loud in the busy restaurant.
“I hate you,” I say.
“It’s kind of catchy, though,” Alex pipes in, bobbing his head up and down to the beat.
“Alex, you traitor!” I say, my voice nearly a screech.
“Yeah, Quinn. I mean, this is kind of a compliment,” Bree says. “Someone put a lot of work into this.”
“Bree!” I give her a scathing look.
I look around the table at my group of friends, all starting to dance around in their seats to my rap. Even Logan is doing a little head bob.
I can’t help but giggle. And then the giggle turns into full-blown laughter with everyone joining in. Well, everyone except for Logan. But he does smile, and it’s one of those big ones that Holly says are hard earned. She’s right—it is pretty dazzling.
Thank goodness for my friends.
Chapter 12
To: KCFL Staff
From: [email protected]
Subject: Station Dating Policy
Team,
Please see the attached dating policy for the station. I realize that in the past this hasn’t been enforced, but after speaking with Dwayne, we feel that it’s time to bring this back. It protects you, and it protects the station.
Please read, and per the policy, if anyone is currently dating among station employees, they need to report it to HR as soon as possible. Or you can speak directly with me or Dwayne.
Thank you for your help with this.
—HP
“A dating policy?” I say to Jerry, who’s currently behind me, reading over my shoulder.
“Yep, guess the rumors are true about the new dude. He’s a hard a—”
“Jerry,” I say, cutting his cursing off, my voice chastising.
He finishes the word and then leans over close to my ear and says it a bunch of times, accentuating the “ss” as he does, sounding like the snake that he is.
I nudge him in the chest with my elbow. “Get out of my space.” Does his breath ever not smell like he ate garlic? Gross.
“I did actually come over here to tell you something,” Jerry says, standing up straight and taking a step backward. “It’s gone.”
“What?” I ask, swiveling my chair around so I can fully see his face.
“The rap. It’s no longer on YouTube.”
“Really?” I swing my chair back around and quickly pull up the internet. I do a quick search, and sure enough, it’s gone.
“But . . . how?”