TWENTY-TWO
Rip
“You look too happy,” Banks pointed out the next day at work when I tried to avoid Heather like the plague. “Can I have the pears?”
I slapped his hand away, but that didn’t deter him. He was right back there grabbing a damn pear like it belonged to him. He pulled out a chair and bit in.
Earlier that morning, Heather had given her two-week notice and left a fruit basket as a parting gift. I’d expected her to be somewhat upset over our conversation where I’d set clear boundaries, but I really hadn’t expected her to quit over it—quite honestly I was thankful that the person who looked down on having kids and a family was out of my life. It just made me realize that maybe Colby was right, maybe people didn’t change.
Then again, I’d like to think I had.
Banks picked up the card and snorted. “‘I appreciate you’? Is she serious right now? What sort of passive-aggressive bullshit is this? And why do you look so happy again? You never said…” He bit into the pear again, the noise like nails on a chalkboard.
“I’m always this happy,” I said defensively.
Banks’s green eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not. You hate my mugs. You hate my ties. You hate color.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he interjected, “One day you yelled at me for breathing too loud.”
“In my defense you were hovering over my shoulder trying to read the Men’s Health I was reading, and you were chewing in my ear!”
“Nice try. You’re always grumpy, which brings us full circle to the weird smile on your face when I came in. I just had to say your name six times before the cloud of happiness dissipated around you. Normally you’ve got a billion different things going on, and right now, your laptop isn’t even open.”
My eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you want me to be a grumpy workaholic?”
It was his turn to narrow his eyes as he leaned in. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”
I adjusted my bland black tie and wondered if I could shove his flamingo one into his mouth so he’d stop asking questions.
His smile grew and grew, until I was eyeing the pears and wondering how much force I’d need to knock him out with one. See, math, very handy, very sexy.
At least that was what she said last night.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispered. “And frankly, it’s starting to freak Karen out.”
“We don’t have a Karen working here.” I frowned.
“No, that’s not her actual—” He sighed. “It’s a figure of speech, I was teasing. And a Karen is like someone who gets upset over everything. You know, like they ask for the manager when their coffee gets too…” His voice trailed off.
“Damn it, who let you in here again?” I wondered out loud.
“And that is how friendship works, helping you see yourself more clearly even if it’s so painful you want to strangle me.” He held out his hand. “Friendship high five? No? Yes?”
I glared.
He changed the subject. “So is this why you have little hearts floating around your head singing Ginuwine?”
I frowned. “You and I have very different ideas of romantic songs. Doesn’t he sing that ‘Pony’ song in Magic Mike?”
Banks just grinned. “Can’t get any better than the ‘Pony’ song.”
“I worry for your dating life sometimes.”
“Don’t. I do quite well. Besides, might I remind you that I’m the reason you’re in this position. And you still haven’t confirmed or denied coitus.”
“Out.” I pointed to the door. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Banks reached for another pear.
“Just take the damn basket!” I shoved it at him.