“You’re going to sit here and pretend you aren’t looking forward to a private concert with your favorite band, Pumpkin?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you jealous, Gabe? Did they spurn you or something?”
He snorted. “You think I want to meet all these people? I have access to their contact info. I’ve been invited to their parties. But I keep it professional, Layla. That way I can write fair reviews.”
“You mean, so you can pan musicians without having to look them in the eye.”
Damn, my food was gone. I cracked open the can of soda that had been sweating on the ledge and took a long sip.
“Or so I can praise them without looking like a suck-up. Do you think Lars is going to want you writing these blogs if he finds out you’re running a fan site?”
“He knows, and he approves. Got any more questions?” I snatched up my napkin and dabbed the corners of my mouth, ready to end this insipid conversation. Why was he even bothering?
“He might care that you’re dating the musicians.” He shaded his eyes which only gave him the impression of piercing me with his gaze. He was so off base.
“One of the musicians, Gabe. And so was Jo when he hired her.”
That stopped him dead. “Right.” He stroked his chin. “Though she works in a different medium.”
I crumpled my trash and stood. My stomach churned. Street meat tasted great going down, but I hadn’t figured out how to stop myself from overeating. “Are you done questioning my life choices? I’d like to get back to work.”
“I’m hardly questioning your life choices. Well, not all of them.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Just the musician.”
“Oh, my God. You are jealous!”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You think if I wasn’t seeing Shane, I’d go out with you.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me. You can’t deny you’re interested.”
I appraised him out here in the sun that really set off his light eyes and smooth bronze skin. He maintained his soft brown hair in a way I didn’t mind at all. If I didn’t loathe him, I’d find him cute. “You’re attractive, I’ll give you that. But looks alone don’t cut it.”
He laughed. “When I perused your fan site, you seemed to ogle the looks plenty.”
His confession gave me a cramp. My forum was public, but his snooping still felt invasive.
“I don’t mind a pretty face, Gabe. But like I said, it’s not sufficient.” I tossed my trash. “And besides, it’s a moot point. I am seeing a musician. Sorry.”
I turned and walked away before he could ensnare me in another dead-end conversation.
The first thing I did when I got back to my desk was to text Ash to say: I think we need to talk about transferring the site to you.
She took no time to respond: Why?
I didn’t want to get into all the myriad complexities, so I just said: I’m way too busy to keep up, and you’re doing all the work anyway. You could ask someone to help. Maybe give the blog duties over to Jayhawk?
On the one hand, it would feel weird to drop out and let her take over. On the other, it wasn’t like anyone knew me. For that matter, I could tell Ash to log in as me and pretend I was still in charge. But that wouldn’t solve my problem. My forum was starting to affect my real life, and I needed to make a break from it so people like Gabe wouldn’t have ammunition to undermine my professional credibility.
Ash wrote back: Let me think about it. I’ve never minded helping out, but I’m not you. I don’t know if I could run the whole site.
Fair enough. I could maybe build a team and distribute the load. But she was right. She wasn’t me. She couldn’t upgrade the software. She couldn’t skip around the admin center or create banners or add widgets to the blog. If something ever went seriously wrong, she wouldn’t know how to handle it.
Huge sigh. It wasn’t important enough to worry about.
I turned back to a section of code Ajit had asked me to review so he could explain it to me later. This was what I cared about. The forum would wait.
Monday night, in Shane’s empty apartment, I suddenly felt exhausted and alone. It made no sense. I’d seen him less than forty-eight hours before, and I was surrounded by proof