Dating You / Hating You
Page 30

It all seems pretty straightforward, and we’re about to walk back to our respective offices when Kylie stops us with a whispered, “Guys.”
We turn back to face her.
She looks almost apologetic and glances around us to make sure no one is listening. “That was all the regular stuff, but just remember: this is Brad’s favorite weekend all year. Add to that the merge, and that people are paying attention to how he runs things, and he really expects it to be . . . like, a big deal. Okay?” Her wobbly smile tells us that she’s relieved she’s not in charge anymore, and it will be a bloodbath if we mess it up.
Carter must sense it, too, because he stops me on our way back down the hall. “Would you have any time to talk this out?” he says in a rush, looking the slightest bit queasy. “I know we’re both busy, but she made it sound like this was pretty intense, and I’ve never been to one of Brad’s retreats. I can clear my afternoon if I need to. If you can, of course.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I’m heading out early to catch someone on set. I’ll finish up around seven or so.” I pause, then wonder if I’m going to regret what I say next. “We could meet after? Unless you have something to do.”
“After is perfect. I’ll clear my schedule and meet you wherever you are.”
For a moment I think about having him just meet me at my place, but then I realize what a giant mistake that would be. “How about BOA, seven thirty?” I suggest instead.
He’s already putting it into his phone. “Seven thirty. I’ll get us a reservation and see you there. Thanks, Evie.”
• • •
Carter is seated when I arrive, and the hostess walks me to the table. He’s changed out of his work clothes and now has on a white button-down shirt and soft, dark jeans. The effect on me is immediate; because he looks like any other guy out on the street, it’s both easier and harder to be with him right now. Easier because I don’t feel the need to try to match his charisma like I do every day at the office. Harder because he looks so much like the Potential Boyfriend version of Carter. It sucks that the dynamic between us is so strained now.
I sit, unfolding my napkin and placing it on my lap.
We both thank the waiter when he fills our water glasses.
To my surprise, Carter declines any sort of cocktail . . . so I do, too.
The waiter lists the specials and says he’ll be back once we’ve had time to look over the menu. The silence stretches between us. The contrast between this dinner and our first together is pretty stark. And the longer we’re quiet, the harder it is to find a single word to say.
I could really use that cocktail.
The sun is setting through the windows and I look out at the street, marveling at how quiet this intersection gets when the offices shut down for the night.
I glance over to see him watching me, and he quickly looks away, back down to scan the menu. His eyes are so bright behind the glasses. I think I forgot how green they are, how perfect his mouth is.
“So,” he says, and I realize it’s my turn to be caught staring.
“So.”
His attention is so steady. I wish I had a Carter Thought Decoder Ring. His lips tilt up into a knowing half smile. “How’re things?”
I burst out laughing and his smile grows, morphing into the real deal, the goofy, crooked smile, not the flashy work one.
“We probably should have ordered drinks,” he says.
I am so relieved that his easy frankness is back that I nearly want to launch myself across the table.
“Yeah, like a hundred.” Nervously, I straighten my spoon and knife beside each other on the table. “Carter,” I start, “I’m really glad we did this. I wish we could start over in some ways.”
He nods, swallowing a sip of his water. “Me too. Though maybe not all of it. Some of it wasn’t too bad.”
My face heats at his meaningful smile. “Agree. And the work situation sucks, but I think we can work better together.”
Relief seems to wash over him and he reaches across the table to take my hand. “I agree. We haven’t been great.”
“I really do think they could have positions for both of us here. The more I look, the more I realize there’s a lot of deadweight in the Features department . . . but it isn’t us.”
“Obviously I haven’t been there as long,” he says with a nod in my direction, and I appreciate the small acknowledgment, “but yeah, I agree.” He leans forward. “Our strengths are so complementary. Rose and Ashton might be better suited for New York. They love to do the theater stuff; it’s just there isn’t that much of it out here. Maybe they would want to be transferred if given the choice?”
“Exactly.”
It loosens something for us to agree on this one tiny point. I feel a fondness seeping back in and his smile is even easier now. The waiter stops at our table to take our orders, and we let go of each other’s hand, but once he’s gone, we immediately look back to each other.
“There’s so much good in all of this,” he says quietly. “I like Features, I like you. I hate the situation, but I sort of like being at P&D.”
“I’m glad. And I like you, too.”
“I had a really good time that night,” he says, and he leans in, taking my hand again. “I don’t think I ever got to tell you that.”
This makes me laugh, and his eyes widen in surprise and amusement at the sound of it. “I had an inkling.”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry if it felt underhanded that I volunteered to take Dan.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I like Dan, and we’ve worked well together in the past, but your list needs it more.”
His eyebrow twitches and I realize how unfiltered that came out. What is it about Carter that brings out my competitive side so immediately?
“I really didn’t mean that to sound rude,” I say, wanting him to believe me. “I’m just being honest. I think you can sign him, easily. With Dan, you just need to call him up and ask him what he’s looking for.”
He lets go of my hand to take a quick sip of water, shaking his head. With the loss of contact, the intimacy of the vibe at the table is immediately flipped on its head. “Dan will talk about it when he’s ready,” he says. “I know a bit about how he works. He wants to feel like he’s in control, and calling him will just make me seem pushy.”
Carter has amazing instincts, but right now he’s wrong. He just is. Dan likes being chased a little. I’ve worked with him and I know: he doesn’t like to be the one making calls, he wants to be the one choosing whether or not to answer.
“I just really think—”
“Christ, Evie, just let me do my job, okay?” he snaps.
I open my mouth, and a few garbled sounds come out before I mumble a quiet “Sure, of course.”
I can see immediately that he regrets his tone. But it’s too late. The tension is back with a vengeance.
Our food comes, and we bend to our plates, eating in silence.
Carter puts his fork down after a few bites, leaning in. “Evie . . .”
“No, seriously, it’s okay.” I put on my best smile, because I really don’t want him to feel micromanaged by me. This is an impossible situation: If I help him, I could lose a job. If he doesn’t fight for a better list, he could. And there is basically no way we can solve this with kissing, no matter how much I’d like to. “You’re right. I was being pushy. You do your thing.”