“So you’re telling me there’s a chance,” he says, just like Jim Carrey says in that movie my parents love to watch, Dumb and Dumber.
I can’t help myself; it makes me giggle. And the part of my brain that seems to want to give Brady a chance starts up its chatter: See? He does make you laugh.
“I’m not pressuring you, Quinn,” Brady says. “Just . . . don’t write me off. We can take it slow, okay?”
My lips slowly curve upward. Here is someone fighting for me. Here is someone putting himself out there for me. Me. Someone who’s never been fought for. It seems like Brady is willing to move mountains for me. Isn’t that what I wanted?
He reaches over and wraps a warm hand around mine. No cold fish hand this time. “Will you at least think about it?”
“Of course.” Since my brain has already started running with the idea, it’s an easy answer.
“And will you go out with me this weekend?”
“Brady,” I chide.
“I said we’ll take it slow,” he says. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
I look down at our hands together and then move my eyes back up to his face.
“Oh, come on, holding hands is even too much? Fine,” he says, taking his hand away.
His face is teasing, and I wonder how I never saw this side of Brady before. I reach over and grab his hand. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll go out with you this weekend.”
“It’s a date,” Brady says, his smile bright.
“Okay,” I say, mirroring his grin.
The door to the booth swings open, the bright artificial light entering the room as it does.
“Brady,” a low voice says, and my body instantly reacts. My heart picks up speed, my face suddenly feels flushed. Henry’s eyes find Brady, and then his gaze moves to me and down to our hands clasped together. I immediately let go.
“Hi, Henry,” Brady says, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Just on a lunch date with Quinn.” He nods his head toward me.
Is it me, or did he overemphasize the word “date” when he said that?
“I see,” Henry says, his eyes traveling to the to-go boxes. Mine is perched precariously near the mixing board, as is Brady’s.
An awkward silence filters around the already-quiet space. No one is making eye contact, and I’m having one of those déjà vu feelings—like I’ve just been caught by my dad doing something inappropriate.
Henry clears his throat. “Can I have a word with you, Brady?”
“Sure,” Brady says, only calmness in his voice. It surprises me, but then I realize that, unlike me, Brady isn’t worried about the current situation we’re in. Nor is he reading Henry’s face—which looks a little annoyed to me—as anything but just the working relationship that they have.
Come to think of it, why am I feeling so nervous and worried? Like I’ve done something wrong. I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just my own crazy brain again. In fact, Henry probably isn’t annoyed at all. That’s probably all just me.
I stand up and grab my nearly empty to-go box. “Well, I guess I’ll go, then.” I turn to Brady. “Thanks for lunch.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, and then gives me a closed-mouth smile. “I’ll call you later so we can figure out this weekend.”
My nerve endings spark when he says this—not because I’m having some excited reaction to what he said but because Henry is here to hear it. I don’t know why—I don’t owe Henry anything. There’s nothing happening with him.
“Great,” I say, squeaking out the word. I don’t look at Henry. I keep my eyes tracked on the door as I go.
Chapter 16
To: KCFL Staff
From: [email protected]
Subject: Break room
Team,
It has come to my attention that people are eating in places that are not designated for food or beverages.
The equipment at the station is very expensive, and an accidental spill could potentially cost us quite a bit.
Please be mindful of where you eat your meals. We have a lovely break room that you all can use any time of the day. Please use that area for all food consumption and make sure all drinks are in spill-proof cups.
Thank you for your help with this.
—HP
Right. Okay, so Henry was annoyed yesterday when he caught Brady and me eating lunch in the audio booth—not because he was jealous like my stupid brain had run off with but because we were eating around expensive equipment. And there you have it, folks.
“I guess we all work for Umbridge now,” Jerry says, approaching my desk, referring to the evil professor at Hogwarts that changed all the rules at the school. “Is he going to start posting them on the wall for all to see? Will he start saying I can’t fart in public spaces?”
I scrunch up my face. “I wouldn’t mind if that becomes a thing.”
“It’s a natural thing,” he says.
“I realize that. Just keep your natural things in the bathroom.”
“You ruin all the fun.”
“I thought Henry had that job.”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “You two would make the perfect couple.”
My belly does a little flip-flop at his comment. I know Jerry is being facetious. He has no idea that Henry and I went on a few dates. He’d probably love that piece of gossip.
“Here comes Carlos,” Jerry says, pointing behind me.
Must be nearly time to go live. I stand up from my desk and let Carlos attach the mic to the skirt of my cranberry suit set. It’s one of my favorites, as the cut emphasizes my waist.
I sit back down at my desk and open my email after Carlos leaves. I’ve got ten minutes to go through the rest of my emails before it’s time to do the news. I hit refresh on my screen, and at the top Grace Is Amazing shows up. I know I shouldn’t read her email before I do the news, since it can’t possibly be anything nice, but I can’t help myself.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Thoughts
Mr. Pierce,
I’m not sure it’s come to your attention since you are new at the station, so let me be the one to tell you that Quinn Pearson is not a good representation of what we Central Floridians like to see on our news.
I’m surprised that she’s lasted as long as she has, to be honest, and would implore you to find someone who can read the news correctly, someone who doesn’t stutter, as well as someone who looks the part. Her clothes are tacky and unflattering. Frankly, she’s just too fat for television. You should be promoting health, something our children can emulate.
I don’t want to be cruel; I’m only trying to help.
Grace
My heart is beating overtime. The words doing a blurry dance on the screen as the bases of my lids begin to fill. I can’t cry right now. I have to do the news soon. I can’t cry.