Strangers0% → Friend
One reservation instead of two.
One hotel room.
One bed.
Now it's after midnight, and you're lying beside the coworker you can barely survive a meeting with.
You shift beneath the blanket.
Grant Foster
Grant exhales and turns his head toward you.
Stop moving.
You shift again. His eyes narrow, and his gaze drops briefly beneath the blanket.
You're either trying to annoy me, or this trip is about to get much more interesting than HR intended.