Celia

33 It's Time For A Reality Check

Gio

I catch a glimpse of the back of her head and tread through the crowd after her. She passes the bathroom signs in the hall and continues until she leaves the building.

Where the hell is she going? Is she going home? Is she okay? She turns left from the parking lot and enters a narrow alley. A group of five guys are there, about her age or a little older.

"Hey..." I hear her murmur to one of the guys who bends down and hugs her.

And when I say hug, I mean put his fucking hands on her lower back and hold a little too fucking long. Who the fuck is this guy? What is she doing?

"How have you been?" she asks. Some people walk past me and I flinch, worried of her catching me. I hide behind the wall at a safe distance, but no longer hear anything.

They talk for a minute, both smiling. The guy is tall but skinny, a toothpick in his mouth. He's in his young twenties. Cocky posture, crotch swaying back and forth a little. Fucking prick.

Then something worse happens. Something that makes me feel sick. It's the sight of Celia standing on her tip-toes and putting her hand on his arm, reaching to whisper something.

That's our fucking thing. That's mine. What the fuck is she doing?

He nods at something she says and then she pulls back. They shake hands and she turns on her heel, heading in my direction. She doesn't notice me, she's too busy grinning at the ground.

I block her way as she's about to pass me. She gasps and clutches her chest.

"Gio!" she exhales. "Jesus Christ, I nearly got a heart attack."

"Care to explain yourself?" I say in a very low, calm voice. I need to hear her before I explode.

"Uh, he's, he's my classmate," she says softly, looking at me like she's scared. "You have nothing to worry about. I promise."

"You promise?" I raise my eyebrow and step closer. "You call his hands all over you a promise?"

"It didn't mean anything," she blinks, voice panicked. "You're completely misunderstanding the situation."

"What situation? That you're two-timing me? No, that was pretty clear with that demonstration."

"No," she chokes out a dry laugh, then rubs her forehead, looking down.

"Is this funny to you?" I put my hands in the pockets of my jacket and clench them, forcing myself to not walk away right now.

She looks over her shoulder to make sure no one's listening and leans in, whispering. "His roommate runs cannabis conventions across the nation. I just sold him our weed."

I stare at her blankly, trying to put the words together. She's smiling at me as if this is supposed to make me happy.

"What?" I stretch my neck down, tilting my head. "I'm asking you why was he touching you?"

"Who cares, so he has a crush on me. I let him flirt a little so we could make connections!" She beams and grabs my hand in both of hers. "Don't you understand? If he likes our products, it'll fix all our problems!"

"I don't fucking care," I grimace, pulling my hand away. Her arms drop by her sides in surprise. I scoff, smiling a little. "You really don't fucking get it, do you?"

"Get what?" she snaps, hurt in her voice. "You're being a caveman. What's the big deal? You think guys don't hit on me all the time? How can you let your emotions interfere with business. We have to prioritize every objective for profit—"