Page 37 of On His Schedule
“You should come, Lucy,” I say easily, trying to ease her nerves.
She looks at me for half a second too long.
Gianna’s eyes flick to me.
I look at the wall. The wall has a small, framed print of a beach in Nova Scotia. I study it.
Then Lucy’s phone buzzes. “Excuse me,” she says, politely. “I need to take this.” She walks to her bedroom and closes the door behind her. I look at the closed door for half a second longer than I should.
“Seriously, Benson. Why did you walk my friend home?” Gianna whispers.
I glance at the door, wondering for a fraction of a second if a man is calling Lucy right now.
She crosses her arms, disapproval on her face. “This is problematic.”
“She didn’t mind.”
“She is being professional, Benson. There is a difference between not minding and being professional. You are her job. She’s not going to tell you no.”
“I don’t think she’s just being professional.” I shrug. “We’re friends.”
She balls her fist. “You’re friends now?”
I whisper, “She’s not as anxious as you made her seem.”
“Oh, trust me, bro. You do not want to go there.”
“What?” I ask as she shakes her head in disapproval. “What is it? Does she have a boyfriend?”
Gianna scoffs with her mouth open in surprise. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that right now.”
I lean forward on the arm of the couch. “Then why did you invite her to dinner with Mom and Dad?”
She opens her mouth.
“And you made a pact with her?” I whisper, already knowing what the pact is about. It’s about me.
She nods, crossing her arms. “Because she’s my friend, Benson. Not yours! Do you remember Kristy from high school? Ophelia? I have a freaking list of friends.”
I run a hand down my face. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry?” I place my hands in front of me and gesture. “I’m sorry that your friends meet me and are attracted to me.”
She points at me. “You’re not allowed to do it with this one. She is my roommateandbest friend. I would like to keep it that way.”
I put my hands up in surrender. “I swear to you that it’s professional and nothing more.”
“You called her your friend.”
I shrug. “We’re friendly.”
“Ew,” she scoffs. “Don’t say that word again.”
I roll my eyes, knowing that I won’t win this. “Alright, fine.”
She stomps one foot and says, “Boundaries, Benson. You’re not allowed to come over here again. No walking her home.”
I inhale, meeting her eyes. “Fine.”
“Perfect. Now get out of here before she walks out.”
