Authors: N. Isabelle Blanco
A tiny body lands next to me, jumping up and down.
I lurch backwards, disoriented.
Gravity fails.
I tumble over the side of the bed, my head slamming into the nightstand. My vision goes white on impact.
Cursing, I cup the back of my head and squint up.
The small blur bounces at the edge of my bed. “You like her. You like her. You freaking
like
her!”
“I fucking hate you.” Groaning, I disentangle myself from the covers and rise to my feet. “Can’t you at least pretend to be an adult? I knew you were going to do this.”
“Eli, this is huge. You really like her.”
Reaching for one of the pillows on the bed, I throw it in Sophie’s face before walking out of the room.
Freaking bullshit. Of all the stupid ways to wake me up.
Sophie’s right behind me, not giving me even a foot of breathing room. “I’m serious!”
I open the fridge door and yank the bottle of orange juice out of it. The pounding in my head is a killer, and now I have to deal with this crap. “So am I.” I raise the bottle of orange juice to my mouth and chug down three gulps. “Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”
One of my black t-shirts hits me in the face.
“It’s not ‘nothing’, you idiot. And cover up.”
Just to annoy her, I fling the t-shirt in the direction of the living room and get busy pouring some more vitamin C down my throat.
“I don’t need to stare at you half-naked, Eli.”
“Then what are you doing here in the first place?” Rhetorical question. How did she get in? Did I forget to lock the door last night? “You want to know what
I
don’t need? You making a bigger deal out of this than it really is.” God, I need coffee. I feel like I’ve barely slept.
The microwave reads 9:47am.
That answers it.
I arrived home at one. Spent two hours uselessly trying to fight the need to tug it, all because I didn’t want to succumb to the images of Paige like a pathetic, hopeless fuck. When that failed, I spent another
three
hours fucking my fist, almost back-to-back, until I finally fell into an exhausted sleep around 5:00am.
Less than five hours of sleep.
Enough come pumped out of me to prove that I am, in fact, a very pathetic dickward when it comes to how badly I want to sleep with the girl.
Fuck my life.
Sophie follows me to the other side of the kitchen and stands next to me while I begin loading up the coffee filter. “Let me just ask you something.”
I gulp down more orange juice, hoping it will help me start feeling human again. “No. Go away.”
She slaps my bare shoulder. “Shut up and listen. When was the last time you called a woman
baby
?”
That answer is easy. So easy, actually, that I don’t even think about it when I open my mouth to answer. “Joa—” I slam my mouth shut, realizing where Sophie’s heading with this.
Triumph flares in her eyes. “When was the last time you hung out with a woman,
and
had fun while doing it?”
“
You
are responsible for her hanging out with us.”
“And you loved every minute of it. Don’t deny it!”
Needing to escape this conversation, I give up on the coffee and walk out of the kitchen. “I don’t
hate
Paige, Sophie. Of course I was going to have some fun with her.”
“Some fun? Stop downplaying it, fool.”
If there’s a God, she’ll leave me alone once I’m in the shower. Doubtful, but I head in that direction anyway.
“When was the last time you were that into a girl?”
“I want to fuck her. Won’t deny it. Have you
seen
her?”
“Duh, and obviously, she wants to fuck your brains out.”
“Won’t deny it. Have you seen
me
?”
I barely manage to duck her hand in time.
The wake-up call Sophie gave me killed any possibility of morning wood.
The reminder of how Paige was with me last night makes my cock awaken with a vengeance. Closing my eyes, I pause, wondering why she affects me that much. She isn’t the only horny woman I’ve ever been with.
None like her.
Okay. Not the time to self-analyze. Time for that shower.
I resume my march to the bathroom.
“You’re totally into her, Elijah Parker, and you can deny it to yourself all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Can you go fall off a building now? Not later.
Now
.” I slam the bathroom door closed in Sophie’s face, refusing to listen to her anymore.
Because she’s absolutely, unequivocally, undeniably full of shit.
I don’t like Paige that way.
Not at all.
Paige
I was such an idiot last nite. I’m so sry.
U were perfectly fine. Don’t worry bout it.
That was the extent of my last text communication with Elijah. Sunday, I spent all day fighting the most vicious hangover in the history of mankind. I woke up late afternoon, long enough to drink some water and send him that apology.
Then I crawled back into the darkness of sleep to escape the misery.
By the time I woke up again, it was late at night and I had to focus on eating something. I also didn’t want to intrude by texting him so late. What if he was busy, or sleeping?
Thanks to my sleep cycle being wrecked by that sleep-a-thon on Sunday, I wake up later than I should on Monday, and I’m five minutes late to work.
Unprecedented.
That’ll teach me to behave like such a lush.
Elijah’s already in, sitting at his desk, focused on his computer.
He doesn’t even look my way.
Weird.
I wonder what he’s so focused on and if it has to do with the tablet’s design.
But when I fire up my computer, I find that he shared a new version of the file with me via the network drive. His notes only state that he thinks we should add more of a curve to the tablet’s corners, rounding them out even more than the previous tablet’s design.
He even praises me on doing a great job with my additions the week before.
Smiling, I get right to work on what he requested. An hour and a half later, my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t had breakfast.
Or coffee.
There was no coffee delivery on my desk this morning.
After ringing the nearest deli for a delivery, I leave my office.
Elijah’s office is empty.
I head to the lounge room in search of that much needed caffeine.
Eli exits the lounge room at the same time I make it to door, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.
He keeps his head bowed, eyes on his phone as he walks past me.
Doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.
And that’s the exact moment I realize what’s going on.
Out of control would be a kind way of describing my behavior on Saturday night. Deep down, I knew I’d come across as desperate.
Needy.
Anyone would think me clingy.
Or worse: too attached.
Clearly, Elijah thinks I’m developing feelings for him and he’s done with me.
Done with our arrangement.
Disappointment floods my system. The feeling weighs me down to a point that it takes me some time to properly formulate thoughts and make sense of why it’s so intense.
But of course. I finally discovered pleasure—a mere taste of it—and I lost my chance to explore it fully because I wasn’t able to control myself.
I wasn’t capable of hiding how
hungry
I am for it.
Mortification adds to the heavy weight in my chest.
God, how long will it be before I experience that passion between a man and a woman again? It’s not like I can snap my fingers and instantly find another willing,
understanding
candidate.
I’ll have to face Elijah, I know that, but right now I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to do so.
I made such a fool out of myself.
In a daze, I turn and walk back to my office, not bothering to make myself the coffee. I keep my gaze averted as I pass Elijah’s office.
The disappointment doesn’t leave me no matter how many hours go by.
I’ll have to find someone else now. Confess to them that I’m still a virgin. Try to explain how I’m not at a point in my life where I can date.
Or trust another man.
Yes, because setting up that deal was so easy the first time around.
Ugh. I think I hate Elijah.
Mostly, I hate myself.
Why did I have to behave like such an idiot with him?
. . .
I stayed at work until seven on Monday night, as per my usual, immersed in work. Tuesday morning, I make sure I arrive at work an hour early; also as per my usual.
Looking through my closet that morning, I spot a brand new dark blue, silk button up with cute, short cap sleeves. The collar of the shirt is high, and it opens into a
V
that ends right where my cleavage begins.
Giving into an odd impulse, I decide to pair it with a tight, white, empire-waist knee-length skirt that’s also brand new. The skirt has a gold zipper running all the way up the back.
I purchased both items on my shopping spree the weekend I confessed to Lana about my arrangement with Eli.
Which is over now.
Pushing that thought to the back of my head, I get dressed, and finish off the outfit with nude, six-inch pumps.
And, for the hell of it, I put my hair in a tight pony-tail high on my head.
Liking the edgy look my outfit and hair give me, I decide to do my eyeliner to match—a flared cat-eye that brings out the blue in my eyes even more.
Red lips finish off my makeup, and gold hoops finish off my outfit.
This is definitely different from anything that I’ve ever worn to the office before, but it’s still on a professional level.
Deciding to also forgo my blazer, I head to work, ready to face the day.
I step off the elevator with my head held high, feeling absurdly good about myself for some reason.
Elijah is standing inside his office, next to his desk. He turns sharply at my entrance.
His hand bumps into the cup of coffee on his desk, spilling it all over the place.
My head rises just a teeny bit higher.
Ignoring him, I turn into my office.
Zach’s waiting for me inside.
“Paige.” He shoots to his full height, green eyes trailing up and down my body. “Wow.” Swallowing nervously, he runs a hand through his brown hair and holds out a cup of coffee for me. “I brought you this.”
I become aware of two things as I smile at Zach and reach out to accept what he offers me.
One: Zach wants to sleep with me. I didn’t notice it before, but I’m sure as hell noticing it now.
And two: Elijah’s stare is glued to my back. I feel it.
“Thanks.” As flattering as it is, I’m not quite sure I want to encourage Zach’s attention. For one, regardless of how handsome he is, he does absolutely nothing for me. No heat. No spark. Not even a little tickle.
Also, I already tried making the sex-only agreement with someone that’s my coworker. Do I really want to make it with another one?
Absolutely not.
Lastly . . . and this is sad for me to admit . . . coffee is Elijah’s thing. It would’ve been nice if Zach had come up with something more original.
“Paige, I would love to take you out for lunch today, if you’re available.”
There isn’t even a moment’s hesitation on my end. “I’m sorry Zach, but I’ll be taking lunch here. Too much to do.”
He smiles at me, taking my rejection so gracefully that I instantly feel bad. “Some other time, maybe?”
“Maybe,” I say, even though I still think it’s a bad idea.
Zach beams at me and I feel like even more of an asshole.
Why am I so picky when it comes to men? It’s almost impossible for them to turn me on.
Well, not impossible, as one man has already proved.
A thought I don’t dare analyze too closely.
Close to lunchtime, the intercom on my desk goes off. “Paige,” Gilliane says. “Can you please come into my office?”
“Be right there.”
Tablet and notepad in hand, I walk to Gilliane’s office. The first thing I hear when I open the door are the excited squeals.
Followed by playful growls.
I freeze inside the office, eyes on the scene playing out before me.
Elijah has Gilliane’s little girl pinned to the couch, tickling her with absolutely no mercy.
Joyce kicks and screams, trying to get away, even though her smile and laughter say she loves the torture.
“Stop. Please. Eli!”
He lifts her in the air, tickling her some more. “That’s Uncle Eli to you. Say it. Say ‘Uncle’.”
Gilliane laughs, smiling warmly at them. “Since when are you my brother, Eli?”
“
Uncleeee
!” Joyce cries out, her cute purple shoes kicking in the air.
Elijah brings the five-year-old down and plants a big kiss on her chubby cheek.
In response, Joyce throws her arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life.
Gilliane sighs. “I honestly don’t understand why she loves you so much.”
His expression is pure
duh.
“Uh . . . maybe because all the ladies do?”
That reminds me: no doubt he’s already found someone to replace me in his bed.
Not that I ever got a chance to be in it.
And that’s perfectly fine. Yes . . . perfectly fine.
“Stop saying such blasphemies in front of my child.”
As if to contradict her mother, Joyce hugs Elijah tighter.
Smiling a purely malevolent smile, he attacks again, tickling her belly.
I scowl. Why does my throat feel tight?
“Oh, Paige. Come in. Please ignore the madness. I can never get these two to behave when they’re together.”
Forcing a smile for my boss, I close the door and head for one of the seats in front of Gilliane’s desk.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elijah pause, his eyes raking my body.
Twice.
No, wait. Three times.
Scratch that. His eyes keep bouncing up and down, and it doesn’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.
That’s all it takes for my thighs to start quivering. His eyes lock on me and
presto
! Useless legs.
I sit down before my legs fail me.
“Joyce, honey, aren’t you going to say hi to Paige?” Gilliane asks.
We’ve only met once before, right before Joyce’s fifth birthday, but Joyce releases her death grip on Elijah and runs to me like an old-friend. “Paige!”
Dropping my tablet and notepad on the seat next to me, I catch mini-Gilliane and lift her onto my lap.
Joyce hugs me, kissing my cheek.
My heart cries out in my chest. One day, I’m going to have to figure out how to trust a man again. If only to procreate my own little “mini-me”.
Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, I give Joyce three kisses and hug her back. “Hey you. Didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“Of course my daughter remembers you. You gave her that ridiculously expensive doll I’d sworn never to buy her.”
“Mommy, my doll is not ridiculous, thank you very much. And I remember Paige because she’s pretty.” Joyce twists in my arms to look to the left. “Isn’t she pretty Uncle Eli?”
He settles in the seat next to me. “No, Joyce, she’s not pretty. She’s unbelievably beautiful.”
Unbelievably beautiful?
Heat. All over the side of my face. From his stare. Inside me, growing stronger. From his words.
How does he do that? I’ve never met someone whose stare is powerful enough to make my skin react.
Joyce smiles at me, all red curls, big green eyes, and innocent naïveté. “See? Unbelievably beautiful!”
“Alright. That’s it. Come over here and give your mother some love.”
Heart thundering, I put Joyce down and watch her run around her mother’s desk.
Elijah won’t stop looking at me.
Why? He ignored me all day yesterday.
“I brought Joyce here to helps us with opinions,” Gilliane begins.
“I get to work with mommy!”
I smile.
Elijah chuckles low in his chest.
The smile falls off my face.
“Settle down, honey.” Gilliane ruffles her daughter’s curls. “Joyce here is going to give us her opinion on which colors we should offer for the girls tablet in—”
“Pink! Purple! Baby-blue!”
I scramble for my notepad, writing down each color as Joyce calls them out.
“Fuschia, Unmellow Yellow, Cyber Grape, Light Salmon, Egg Nog, Electric Lavender, Jazzberry Jam!”
Elijah laughs again. “Where is she getting all of this from?”
“I think more than one of these is a variation of purple,” I mumble.
Gilliane places her hand over her daughter’s mouth. “Alright, honey. Good job. That’s enough for now.” She drops her hand.
“Mardi-Gras, Petunia, Pomp and Power!”
“Joyce, honey, enough!”
Joyce pouts up at her mother. “But I know all of them.”