Molly’s eyes come to me in question. “Are you?”
I shrug. I can’t lie to them; I just won’t elaborate.
“What the f**k?” Aaron whispers as he rolls his chair over to mine; Molly, too, rolls her chair over next to mine. “You have seen him?”
“Possibly.”
“What the f**k?” Molly whispers. “When?”
“A few times, but Friday night was the last time I saw him.”
Aaron does a cross over his chest and pretends to pray. “Thank you, Jesus.”
“But don’t say anything,” I whisper. “It’s just very casual, nothing to get excited about yet.”
Molly’s eyes widen in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? Screwing Jameson Miles is something to get excited about, woman. Have you seen him?”
I smile broadly at their over-the-top reactions. “I’m just playing it cool, but I am going up there for a project with Trista
