Into You Series: The Complete Collection

33. Cameron

CHAPTER 33

CAMERON

I shift in the folding chair at the back of the warehouse where we normally hold Beer Friday. Except it is not Friday, there is no beer, and this is definitely not fun.

Nia could not have had better timing by scheduling our annual workplace harassment seminar the day after I do the very thing they’re training us to avoid. Employees are scheduled for Thursday, but managers get the lucky task of completing their portion on Monday afternoon.

Whoopee.

“Nice to see all your happy faces!” Nia’s voice is entirely too peppy for this subject matter. I know as well as she does that there are zero happy faces in this audience. “Who’s ready for one hour of fun manager training?”

Ian’s sitting on the spare stool next to me with his arms crossed. To a common bystander, he does look like the “good lawyer” as today he’s dressed in a clean-cut suit with an expression of concentration. But I can tell he’s dying inside by the way he’s tapping his foot on the final rung of the stool’s leg.

“We have our in-house lawyer, Ian, here to help with any questions,” she says, pointing him out.

Ian does not break his stoic eye contact with Nia. That’s probably the most I’ve ever seen her smile. It almost looks like a smirk if I didn’t know any better. She’s totally loving how irritated he is.

“We also have gift cards for the first five people that jump in with some good questions.” She waves some local convenience store cards above her head.

There’s a whoop from the other side of the warehouse. Some of us may hold the title of “manager,” but at the end of the day, we’re just kids that became adults and were mistakenly given responsibility. This is never more apparent than during seminars geared specifically toward management.

Ian scoffs and leans down to speak in my ear, “My write-up punishment included extending my office hours during this week to answer questions.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that anyway?” I whisper back.

He shoots me a glare. “Whose side are you on?”

I cringe and turn away from him. Might be best to not wave the red flag at this bull for the time being.

Nia clears her throat. “This seminar should serve as a reminder to remain cognizant of employee boundaries.”

Employee boundaries? I think I may have leaped past those with a flourish when my face was buried up Grace’s skirt.

A side smile works its way up my face, and I force it back down.

Nia goes on to start the presentation. It’s the same thirty-minute video we watch every single year as a company, except there’s an additional twenty-minute segment at the end where they review your responsibilities as a supervisor and “doing your due diligence.” You know—that one thing I didn’t practice this weekend.

I’m too busy reliving my own wrong doing over and over. Grace’s legs spread for me, my hands across her body, her mouth against mine …

I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. I keep it flush with my thigh so that hopefully nobody can see, but my expression gives away my disappointment. No texts from Grace at all. I’m not sure what I expected.

We haven’t spoken one-on-one since last night and, by the time this meeting started, she was already so nose-deep in work that I felt making up an excuse to talk to her would just be obvious and unwelcome.

I look up when Ian exhales, but he’s not looking at me or my phone. His arms are still crossed in defiance.

I move to the text message window and quickly type out something. It’s not anything special or intelligent, but I need an excuse to talk to her. It’s already been too long.

Cameron: Hi.

Masterpiece right there. A real Tolstoy text.

I place my phone in my lap and flip it over, inhaling deeply.

I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a response. It was definitely before Abby. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more excited about a text.

My phone buzzes and I fumble for the unlock. There, in the sender line, in big bold, beautiful letters is the name I so desperately want: Grace Holmes.

Grace: What an opener. Real pickup artist.

I stifle a laugh, look to make sure Ian isn’t watching ( nope, still brooding ) and text her back.

Cameron: Seemed to work so far.

Grace: You and that well-endowed charmer of yours.

Cameron: I’ll have you know I am currently sitting in the harassment seminar for managers, and I feel personally harassed right now.

She doesn’t text back right away. I see a couple dots cycle in bouncing motions. They disappear, reappear again, disappear once more, and finally:

Grace: Getting any ideas?

A wide grin spreads across my face and I shift the phone against my leg once more, moving it closer to my center to conceal it further.

I inhale sharply before typing fast.

Cameron: Why? Do you want to drop by the boss’s office later? I bet there’s an assignment he can give you.

Grace: I’ll expect a calendar event for 4:00 p.m.

Cameron: I believe you should.

“Do you want us to get yelled at?” Ian hisses to me, flipping my phone out of my hand from underneath. It clatters to the floor, and I raise my hand in apology to the various people glaring my way.

Ian raises his eyebrows in disapproval, and I’m wondering just when he became so concerned with good behavior. Probably the second Nia wrote him up. I bet it’s eating him up inside.

My phone buzzes again, and I peer down to read the message before pocketing it with a smile as Ian punches my arm in irritation.

Grace: To wear underwear or not to wear underwear. That is the question.

Grace is a siren, a succubus just waiting to swallow me whole. My own fiery goddess.

And I’m the fool lost at sea, surrendering to her willingly.