Page 63 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
When I reach the office, right on time, Alex waits for me at my cube. He holds up a hand to high-five, question marks in his eyes.
I roll mine. “I could ask the same of you.”
He nods in satisfaction, then points his thumbs at his chest. “Oh, yeah. This American loves London.”
“Get it,” I say, then smack his palm.
“And you? Did you finally have that night at the London Sex Exchange with your”—he stops, clears his throat dramatically—“friend?”
As best I can, I rearrange my features, so they’re stoic. I take my time, though, since I’m not sure how I want to answer.
In my silence, Alex leans closer, swings his gaze from side to side. “Dude, I know it’s your roomie. You’re so fucking obvious.”
Are my feelings for Jude written in my eyes?
I try to fashion an answer that doesn’t give anything away, but as I do, it occurs to me I don’t want to tell Alex. I don’t wantto tell anyone. I want to clutch last night in my hands, keep it safe as a memory, save it for myself.
Once I share it, then I’ll have to explain it.Well, you see, I slept with my roomie because I’m falling for him, so yeah, sex seemed brilliant, and now it seems foolish, yet I’m dying to see him tonight.
And tomorrow.
And the next day.
And I know this won’t work, but so it goes...
“Last night was fun,” I say evasively.
Alex arches a brow. “Got it,” he says, then winks and heads to his cube.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but it hardly lasts when the news manager barks out my name in a gruff English accent.
“Ashford. Come to my office.”
Like a good soldier, I follow him. Alex catches my gaze as I go, his eyes askingwhat’s up.
No idea, I mouth.
When I head into Richard’s office, he gestures to a chair across from his desk. I sit, nerves racing as he plops into his chair.
“TJ,” he begins. “Your work here is excellent.”
My stomach plummets. The only thing coming next is abut.
The trouble is, I can’t figure out what I’ve done wrong. My stories have been great. My reporting is solid. My work ethic—top-notch.
“So excellent, I can’t keep you,” he adds.
That makes zero sense. “Why not?”
“There’s an opening for a senior reporter. Turns out, our just-completed analysis of consumer behavior says articles on media and advertising fare better than financial pieces, and they want you for the promotion. It comes with a twenty percent raise and a gym membership since 24News just bought a chain of gyms.Must diversify these days. So, there you go. You’re a very good writer, and you were a shoo-in. But don’t let that go to your head.”
“I won’t,” I say, though I’m stoked.Very goodis editor speak forhead and shoulders above the rest.
But that’s not the most exciting part.
Not by a mile.
Since they’re promoting me, I could maybe use that raise for a new place. I do the math quickly, and I’m guessing the extra might cover the three-month fee for breaking the lease. That way, Jude won’t be screwed on the rent. My mind leaps ahead, picturing getting a studio in Bloomsbury maybe. A flat I can afford on my own with the raise. Closing out my gym membership and putting that money to rent.