I look at her, stoney faced. “Are you finished? This isn’t funny.”
She smiles. I check my phone for the tenth time. “He hasn’t called, though,” I whisper as we move to the front of the line.
She rolls her eyes. “Give it time.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s going on with Mark?” she asks.
“He’s...” I hesitate as I try to articulate my words.
“Two lattes, please,” she asks the server behind the till. “He’s what?” She smirks.
The coffee lady is listening, so we choose to wait in silence for our coffees, then head back to the car. “He’s not really my type, I don’t think,” I mumble as I climb into the Venga bus.
“Why not?”
I throw my head back into the headrest and slam the car door. “I don’t know. There is definitely no lightning striking me.” I think for a moment. “But I have to tell you, I have been having the weirdest of dreams.”
She looks over at me. “What kind of dreams?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, a young girl with dark hair. She’s, like, in old fashioned times.”
She screws up her face deep in thought and we both watch the kids kick the ball in front of the car. “Hey, maybe you are going to be an author?” I smirk as my eyes flicker back to her face. “Why do you say that?”
“Apparently authors do this weird thing where the characters just come to them and wont leave until they tell their story.”
“Are you serious?”
“Maybe you are going to be an author and your first subject has long brown hair.” She widens her eyes in excitement and I laugh out loud.
“That could be cool, actually,” I whisper.
“Write down what you dream about. You never know? There could be a novel in there somewhere.”
I smile and lean my head back against the headrest as I think. Yeah, I might just do that. You never know until you try, I suppose. I have always loved writing. Hmm, maybe London is having an artistic effect on me?
“Oh, look there’s Julian.” She jumps out of the car and waves to her boss as she walks towards him. He smiles as he approaches her and they talk for a moment. She laughs freely and pulls her hand through her hair. He seems to study her face as he talks. I narrow my eyes as I watch them. Oh my God, are you kidding me? They are flirting. I sit, stunned as I watch them, until finally she turns and comes back to the car, but my eyes stay on Julian, and as she walks away his eyes drop to her behind.
Oh. My. God. He’s checking her out. She bounces into the car, all effervescent and dreamy until my horrified eyes meet hers.
“What?”
“Are you for real?” I snap.
“What?”
“He’s forty-something.”
“He’s thirty-eight.”
“You like him?” I can’t hide my mortification.
“No!” she snaps.
“Well, he definitely likes you.”
“He does not.”
“He was checking your ass out as you walked away.”
“Really?” She smiles excitedly.
“Oh my God, this is a disaster. I bought you here to get away from that dickhead and now you’re falling for old men.”
She raises her eyebrows. “I’m not falling for anyone, and you have bigger worries on your plate with your boss, that artist, and the fact that they know each other to be worrying yourself about me.”
“Uch. I’m becoming a nun.”
She smiles. “You won’t become a nun. You love sex too much.”
I blow out a deep breath. “Not that I would remember.”
She smirks. “So, London is making you artistic and me as horny as hell.”
“This is a nightmare.” I shake my head. “If you sleep with your boss, I’m going to kill you.”
She smirks. “I’m not going to sleep with him, but you do have to admit he’s kind of hot.”
My eyes find him out on the field and I smile. “I suppose he is… in a rich, old man kind of way.”
* * *
I have been summoned to Mark’s Office and I am dreading it like the plague. I have worked with him for three days now, and here it is, Wednesday afternoon, and I don’t even want to talk to him at work, let alone socialize with him after hours. His eyes are lingering on me longer than they should and I know he has more on his mind than friends. I have to tell him it’s a no go, but how?
This is why you don’t fuck with bosses, Emerson, you stupid idiot. I didn’t think this through at all.
I walk up to his office door. Knock, knock.
“Yes!” he calls seductively.
I walk in and stand silently next to his desk. “Take a seat,” he orders as he looks at some spreadsheets.
I swallow the lump in my throat and drop into the seat.
“How have you been going with the good news stories?” he asks.
“Um, okay. I really only started it today.”
His eyes shoot up. “Why are you only starting now?”
“I had other things I had to get finished before I started on this,” I murmur nervously. “Filing and stuff.”