11

Didn't Nicolas tell her I own a construction company? Does he even talk about me? Grief starts to eat me up inside. “Well, he tries to be,” Dutch joked, answering her question. I glare at him, but I feel like laughing. Teasing is with ourselves, but I wish the asshole wouldn't do that at work. It compromises my image, dammit. — Shit! Porscha suddenly yells. I look back at her quickly and see the rainwater falling on her head like a waterfall. The tarp ripped at the top of the structure and spilled all the water that had accumulated in the crevice. She stands up quickly, escaping the water, and stretches her arms, trying to get it back in place. But she can't quite reach. Coming up behind her, I reach over and hold the tarp in place as I turn my head and jerk my chin at Dutch. He nods and leaves to get the staple gun. Porscha lets go of the tarp and slides under my arms, staying beside me, laughing. - Are you okay? I ask. She nods, wiping her face and shaking her jacket. - Yea. I think