Page 76 of Just for the Cameras
“It’s…not…there’s nothing—”
“Because if you’re alluding to sexual favors, I don’t need to fluff someone’s fucking pillows in order to get head.”
My jaw nearly falls to the ground because, oh my God, that isnotwhat I was talking about at all, and the fact that he’d even think that is highly insulting.
“That is not what I meant.”
“Then why don’t you just shut up, eat your food, and be grateful?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning toward him. “Did you just tell me to shut up? I don’t care what you’ve done for me today, Graydon. But no one, and I mean no one, talks to me like that.”
He pushes his hand through his hair, making the strands stand on end as he lifts himself from the couch.
He’s quiet for a second, his body thrumming with anger.
Pacing.
Pulling.
Actually distressed.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He stares down at his plate, still tugging on his hair. “I’m not…I’m not in a good headspace right now.”
“Oh, can I help?”
He shakes his head. “No, can you…just…can you just be quiet right now?”
I’m about to protest, but then his dark, hurt eyes meet mine and I clamp down on my response. He’s hurting.
Actually hurting.
But why?
If it wasn’t for the fact that I experienced the pure distaste and anger that Troy and Graydon shared today, I might have stood my ground and fought with him some more, but those six words—I’m not in a good headspace—hold me back.
It’s the only thing stirring a sense of empathy in me toward him.
And the only reason I didn’t just toss my soup in his face.
He moves over to the counter, sits on top of it, and starts eating again.
I stare at him for a few moments, taking in his turned-in shoulders, the crease in his brow that hasn’t left since I showed up with my injuries, and the tightness in his jaw. I don’t think there’s anything, and I mean anything, that I could do or say that will make this any better.
He’s a closed book, and I’m not about to open it. That’s not my job.
Finding out who he is as a man is not my job.
Nor am I here to be friends with him.
I’m here to work with him to benefit his team and my flamingos—that’s it.
In some respects, he’s lucky I’m as pragmatic as I am. I have no doubt that someone else might want to work out his feelings, unpack him and see if they could help heal his hurts. But that’s not what this is. Our timetogether has a dual purpose, and despite how we have to work together, we can still stay in our lanes.
But because I’m not a jerk, I say, “Thank you…for everything.”
He grumbles something under his breath but then leaves it at that.
I guess we’re done with conversation.
