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chapter 5

"That was torture!" Liz exhales as we walk into the room, the door clicking shut behind us. She slips the card into the electricity slot with an unnecessary flourish.

"Really? I thought it went quite well, actually," I reply, unbuttoning my shirt, eager to get into something comfy.

"It was torture, Ashley..." she insists.

I glance over, puzzled. She didn't seem uncomfortable back in the conference room. A little nervous at first, sure, but she found her footing quickly—or so I thought.

"Torture, I tell you... I honestly don't know how I managed to hold it together," she declares, dramatically patting herself on the back.

"I don't know how I didn't throw myself at Louis right then and there on that conference table..." she adds, closing her eyes in what I can only assume is a vivid mental replay.

"'Ashley, will you help me with my speech?'" she swoons in a cartoonish version of Liam's voice.

"'I will gladly do you, baby... over and over again,'" she moans.

"Liiiiiiz!" I laugh, fake-scolding her while trying not to drop onto the floor laughing.

"And Harry... damn, that shirt—what, maybe two buttons fastened? That chest..." she trails off, visibly drooling in her head.

"I want to oil that chest and go south. Oil him up and eat him like a pan of baklava."

She says it so earnestly, like it's the most poetic thought in the world. Must be the quarter-Greek in her. That part of her has no filter—and zero shame.

In between my wheezing laughs, I notice something.

"You haven't said anything about the blond one..."

"Don't ask about Blondie," she says, already strutting across the room naked on her way to the shower. "I'll be under him—or he'll be under me—whichever happens first by the end of the week."

She pauses in the doorway. "I might be a while."

Then, grinning wickedly: "Whatever sound comes out of here, please ignore."

She slams the door behind her.

I stare after her, speechless. What is there to say after something like that?

After a short nap, I check my phone and find a message from Leo. Rain check. He's running late and wonders if we can push our meeting to next week.

I won't lie—I'm disappointed. Leo's so easy to be around. He's grounded, smart, charming without trying. I was genuinely looking forward to seeing him again. Still... next week isn't that far away.

"So what now?" Liz groans when she hears.

"What do you mean?" I ask, already sensing the shift in tone.

"Does this mean... we're not meeting the boys tonight?" Desperation floods her face.

"No. I'm still meeting Liam. I promised to help him with his speech. But we'll need to let him know Leo's not joining, so the others can make their own plans. They shouldn't just sit around waiting because we can't make it, should they?"

I'm already rummaging through my purse.

"How are you going to tell them? You don't have their numbers," she says, wide-eyed with possibility.

"Liam gave me his," I say, holding up the card triumphantly.

Her jaw drops. "Of the four, you got the number for the only one who's unavailable. Brilliant, Ashley. Just... fucking smart!"