Each step is shaky as I walk to the car, and once I’m safely inside, I finally let myself go. My forehead drops against the steering wheel and my hands clench into fists. After one good, hearty dry sob, I pull my phone out and compose a group text to my roommates.
S.O.S. I fucked my boss.
Dropping the phone in the passenger’s seat, I start the painful drive home. At every intersection, I think I see Simon’s car, and every few minutes, I have the desire to check my phone and see if he’s texted me. I know he hasn’t. He may have apologized for what happened early in our relationship, but this last spat is different.
Maybe it’s my fault. Perhaps he was trying to be sweet by telling me I “had him” and didn’t need his father. His upbringing was different from mine. As much as I like to talk shit about my parents, they were relatively normal. Never would they have thought of sending me off to boarding school. Never would they go to a party and make backhanded remarks about me while I was standing right there.
Maybe Simon doesn’t know how to say some things. God, maybe he doesn’t even know how to feel them.
I angrily pull at some of my hair. It doesn’t matter. I’m not a psychologist and these guesses aren’t much more than shots in the dark. I’m tired of trying to dissect his behavior. Why can’t he just act like a normal human being for once?
After I park the car, I check my phone. There are six text messages, but they’re all a stream of questions from Crystal and Eryk. Mostly, Crystal wants to know how I feel about what happened, and what Simon said and did once the act was done. Eryk wants to know how it was on a scale of one to ten and how big he is.
Men and women, ladies and gentlemen. There are big differences between them.
Home, I text back. Let’s talk there.
They both jump on me the second I open the front door.
“There’s the boss fucker!” Eryk gleefully shrieks.
“Ugh,” I groan. “Someone lock me away. I’m a menace to society.”
“How was it?” he grins.
I clench my teeth. My lower lips starts to tremble, but I hold back the tears. Eryk’s mood instantly changes, the smile falling from his face.
“Damn,” he whispers. “That bad?”
“No,” I sob. “That’s not it.”
Crystal wraps her arms around me and leads me to the couch.
Ten minutes and a glass of cheap whiskey later I’ve told them the whole story, including as much as I can remember of mine and Simon’s conversation.
“Oh, girl.” Eryk shakes his head and leans back into the cushions. On my other side, Crystal reassuringly rubs my arm.
“We’ve all done it,” she says.
“Screwed your boss up against a window?” I sadly joke.
“Hooked up with people who weren’t good for us. Just because your hormones match up doesn’t mean everything else does.”
“You know what I think?” Eryk asks. We both look at him, and he pauses for dramatic effect. “He was trying to show you how much he cares.”
I groan. “That’s what I thought for about a millisecond, but no, he wasn’t. That man can’t care.”
Eryk leans towards me. “Yes, he can. It’s just hard for him. Sydney, look at everything you’ve told us about the guy. His dad hates him; he grew up in boarding schools; his one serious relationship failed. He doesn’t know how to show he cares because no one taught him how.”
I think about that one. It’s what I already suspected but was kind of afraid to believe. If it is true, then there’s still hope for him to learn how to care and show it.
Right?
“Wow,” Crystal says. “That was good. You should be a therapist or something.”
I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t matter. All that matters are a person’s actions.”
Neither one of them responds.
“Right?” I ask, looking between the two of them.
Crystal feebly shrugs. “That’s what they say. I don’t know. Maybe he just needs some encouragement. People who act so harsh are usually the ones who have been really hurt. But you probably know better than I do. You’re the smart one in this apartment.”
“Hah,” I bark. “Hello? Boss fucker here, remember?”
“But seriously,” Eryk says. “How was the sex?”
With a groan, I drop my head to my knees. “The best I ever had.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On Monday, I warily hang my backpack on the hook, glancing around the office. Chuck yawns into his hand and Daniel rubs his face as he struggles to sit up straight.
Dana loudly claps her hands together, making everyone jump. “So,” she announces. “Mr. Mulroney had to go away on a last minute trip. He’s probably going to be gone all week.”