COTW: The Never List

Chapter 15

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Esme

This is not a date.

Not a date, not a date, not a date.

I lectured myself all afternoon while I marked up copies of the contract to review with Miller, who was surprised at the progress we'd made while offsite. He agreed that getting out of the office and on common ground was an excellent strategy that I should use where applicable.

While I drove home, actually smiling at the Ferris wheel as I passed it on the freeway, I reminded myself to not get excited about having evening plans that had nothing to do with Shonda Rhimes' Thursday night lineup.

This is not a date, I told myself, as I pulled into my spot in the garage. Tonight's hang out with Trey was just that, a hang-out. Not a date.

But I was nervous like it was a date. I wanted plenty of time to get cute like it was a date. I had flutters of excitement in my stomach like it was a date.

I showered, changed, fussed with my hair for longer than usual, taking it down from the bun I usually wore and letting the shoulder-length curls fly free. My face was bare except for a tinted moisturizer and a swipe of gloss on my lips. I arrived at the agreed upon spot in a pair of tapered jeans that I bought off of Instagram, so I was thankful that they fit. I paired them with a graphic t-shirt and my favorite Vans. My feet were still throbbing from standing in heels all day.

I spotted Trey's casual stride in dark rinse, loose fit jeans, black Nikes, and a thin, Korean collar shirt in olive green. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, giving him a casual, I'm just over here being sexy vibe. Watching him, then noting how his expression changed when he caught me watching him made my heartbeat gallop.

Trey let out a low wolf whistle as he approached, giving an obvious up and down glance. "Got me singing Ginuwine, In Those Jeans. Evening, Ms. Whitaker," he said, extending a hand to me.

I slapped his hand away. "Knock that Ms. Whitaker bullshit off. You're only doing it to get on my nerves."

He stepped back, then made a show of giving me the up and down stare. "You dress down real nice. No suit, no bun, hair all... out here." He chuckled, taking in the curls that were probably increasing with the humidity. "No heels. I'm a little sad. I liked those heels."

"Do you plan on being this Quiet Storm guy all night?"

Trey laughed. "You don't like it?"

"You don't have to impress me. This isn't a date. You can be Trey."

"Fine." He sighed, dropping his shoulders, his voice climbing a few octaves. "I will be Trey, then. Are you ready to go up?"

"Up... as in the roof?"

"Yup. The roof."

"I guess," I said, not sure that I meant it.

* * *

"Aight, so."

Trey clapped his palms together, then rubbed them, giving me a grin that told me I was in for some fun.

"The point of this game is simple. Roll the ball up the hill, over the hump, into the numbered rings. The bigger the number, the bigger the point value. You win by accumulating the highest points. Do you want my tips for best play, or do you want to wing it?"

"Oh, I want tips. We need an even playing field. What do I get if I win?"

"You will not win, Esme."