“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice how much he affects me. I never thought I’d say this, but it was so much easier being around him when I hated him. “Well, since you’re still here, do you want to try and get some work done?”

“I’m actually starving.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the time. “It’s not too late. Wanna go grab a bite somewhere first?”

We’re just friends. He does not like you like that. This is not a date. It’s a professional courtesy because despite what you initially thought of him, he’s actually a decent guy. So calm the fuck down, Elliot.

Logically, I know what this is, but my stupid hormones don’t seem to get the memo. My palms start to sweat and the place where my stomach used to be is replaced with butterflies.

“Um, yeah, sure.” I keep my eyes trained in front of me. I’m convinced if I look at him, he’ll be able to see that I’m still thinking about kissing him and run for the hills. “Dinner would be good.”

“Cool.” His voice is calm and steady, just like always. Which, of course it is. Just another reminder that I’m not his type and he doesn’t see me in that light at all. “Since you picked the place last time and I didn’t even get food, I’m picking this go-round. Wanna follow me there?”

I hate choosing restaurants, so this works for me. “Sounds good. Let me just go shut down everything and grab my purse.”

“Great.” He gives me that manly chin nod that all dudes seem to learn during puberty when they’re too cool for words. “I’ll pull my car around the front and wait there.”

“Perfect, I’ll be there in a sec.”

He walks away and I only watch him for a second before I remember what I’m supposed to do. I head to my desk in a bit of a haze, only shutting down my computer from pure muscle memory as I try to get my mind right to have dinner with Quinton.

Hopefully I’ll manage to not make a total fool out of myself . . . again.

Twenty-two

I follow Quinton to a restaurant not far from his house.

I do this thinking he’s much better at leading than I was when we went to Stanley’s. He even passes up the parking spot right in front of the door and goes for the one that’s a little further but has an open one right beside it. It’s frustrating that when I really need to be focusing on reasons why I don’t want to kiss him again, he seems to be going out of his way to be chivalrous.

“What is this place?” I ask as I push open my door.