“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” I say. “I want…” I trail off. Should I really have to not only spell it out but beg for it as well?
“You want to be treated like a person,” he finishes. He looks so sad leaning there against his desk, it makes me want to go to him and wrap him in a hug; press his head against my chest.
“Can you not do that?” I ask.
He runs a hand through his hair, making the blond waves in the middle stick up. “I can try.”
I’m not sure what he’s suggesting is next. Do we go back to frantically making out? Are we going to actually see each other outside of work? Something about the idea of a traditional date makes me sick.
“I need to get my stuff together and head over to the lot for the morning’s dailies,” he announces.
I swallow down my disappointment. “Okay.”
So this is over with. And maybe not just for today. Maybe for each and every day from now on. Perhaps Mr. Mulroney’s idea of treating me like a person involves never touching me again.
If that’s the case, then I’m kind of sorry I opened my big mouth. We could both be totally naked by now, and the burning pain between my legs halfway taken care of.
And yet, what about the burning pain in my heart? The desire to have a physical connection with a person in a deep and lasting way?
I clear my throat. “I’ll go then.”
He watches me as I turn. My back to him, I blink rapidly, drying up the tears forming there. I turn the doorknob and go into the outer office. The three people there all have sympathetic looks for me. They probably think my eyes are red because Mr. Mulroney just gave me a serious talking to. They probably think my pride is hurt and I’m feeling sorry for myself.
They have no idea how truly bad it really is.
Dana stares at me intently and waves me over.
I blink hard, my eyes almost dry but not quite, and go to stand by her seat.
She stands up and puts her mouth close to my ear. “I can see your breasts,” she whispers.
Quickly, I glance down at my chest. Yep. There are my nipples, slightly visible through the white cotton shirt. And they’re hard, at that.
In this morning’s rush, I forgot to put on a bra. Which means Brendan saw my boobs… the tow truck driver saw my boobs… and Mr. Mulroney saw my boobs.
And the last man saw them erect because, let’s face it, he turns me on even when we’re fighting.
“I have a sweater in my bag,” Dana says.
“Thanks,” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest so Chuck and Daniel don’t have to be added to the list of men to see my lady bits today.
*
He doesn’t come back after he goes to see the dailies, and he doesn’t come in on Tuesday either.
I’ve got my car back, though, thanks to Dana dropping me off at the mechanic’s after work. A steady oil leak was to blame, and the man working on the car suggests I’d do best just trading the Chevy in for parts and getting a new one.
Not without a raise, I think.
It seems like a really, really bad time to ask my boss for one of those.
I tap my pen against the desk, replaying the events of the day before over and over in my mind.
“He must really like you,” Dana says to the computer screen. “I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. I mean, not that you did anything wrong. He’s just such a hard ass. He’s fired people for much less than coming in to work late.”
“Yeah,” I slowly say. “I guess I’m just lucky.”
“So when did you say that drag show is?”
“Oh!” I gasp, unable to believe I forgot. I grab my backpack and pull out the fliers Eryk stuffed in there the night before. He made them at home, inserting a big picture of his smiling face above the time and location of the show.
“It’s this Friday night,” I say, handing her one. I pass Chuck and Daniel each one as well, though they don’t appear too interested. “It’s Eryk’s first time doing drag.”
“Cool. I might come.”
“Really? I think that would mean a lot to him. He specifically asked me to invite people from work. He doesn’t think anyone is going to show up.”
Dana smiles. “Yeah, well, they have alcohol, I assume.”
“I imagine so. If not for the customers, then for the performers. Personally, I’d have to have at least one or two shots before getting on a stage.”
“Then I’m there. It’s been a while since I’ve seen some good drag.”
“Cool.” I lean back against the desk and rub at the sore spot above my temple.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.
“Don’t let him get to you.”