“Frankly, I’m a little surprised you’re not still completely drunk. You put freshmen frat boys to shame last night, little brother.”
I wince, because she’s right. I’ve been twenty-five for a few weeks now, and the year’s off to a hell of a start. Elevator sex, heartbreak, and drunken darts. Look at me adulting like a pro.
She grabs her lunch box and her coat and heads toward the door. “I have patients soon, so I’ve gotta run. Dunc took your car to work, so you can walk home when you feel up to it. We’ll drive your car over tonight. And we’ll bring dinner, so text what you’re hungry for.”
“Thanks, Bets. For everything.”
“You might not be thanking me later. After I got Dunc patched up, we set up a Tinder account for you. Nick helped, too.”
“Sweet Christ.”
“Yep. And check the app we installed on your phone. As of 6 this morning, Cocky McDickerson—that’s you, by the way—was the king of Tinder. Everybody and their cousin was swiping left for you.”
I groan, but she keeps talking,”And really. You’re an IT guy. Your password should not be that transparent.”
What the hell? It’s 372021, because the odds of successfully navigating an asteroid belt are 3,720 to 1, but Han never wants to hear the odds.That’s a solid password. But I keep my mouth shut. The lady has access to my Tinder account, and she’s in charge of my dinner tonight. Gifted, you know…
“Love you, kid. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. And call mom. She feels terrible.”
I shake my head, and the searing pain has lessened a fraction. I grab the rest of the muffins in one hand and my coffee cup in the other. I figure I’ll veg here for a bit and mooch off Dunc and Bets’s cable. I’ll watch movies and raid their fridge until my head stops spinning, and I feel up to walking home.
Calling off work was a solid idea, though, I usually avoid calling off at all costs, but today was an exception. Just the thought of that noisy office and the ringing phones...Ugh. And I can’t face Elaine. Not today. I’ll just sulk and lick my wounds for a while.
I flip on the TV and grab the afghan from the back of the couch. It looks like one of the ones Nana made. I scroll through the channels until something catches my eye, and I smile because the god of hangovers has finally taken some pity on me: Leia stares back at me from the screen. Who needs a real girlfriend when you can have a fictional space princess?
I STARE AT THEclock for the 47th time and scowl at what I see. 10:07. Seriously? How can it only be 10:07? It feels like I’ve been editing this document for five hours, not two. And really, those two hours were a waste. I’m going to have to comb through it again to be sure I’ve caught everything and cleaned it up.
And I’m blaming my uncharacteristic lack of productivity on Simon. Damn him and his mouth. And his Snickers bar tied with a rubber band. And his arms. And his dimples. Fucking dimples. If he’d never asked me out, never crossed that line, never seduced every part of me, I wouldn’t know what I’ve been missing and could continue to edit into oblivion. Instead, here I sit in my rolly office chair, jumping at every sound, every voice that carries through the office beyond my doorway, sure that it’s Simon. And if he does walk in, should I make eye contact? Look down? Act as though nothing has changed? Help myself to a handful of ass? These are questions for which I have no answers, so I take a drink of lukewarm coffee and force my eyes back to the screen.
“HEY, YOU WANT LUNCH?” Molly’s freakishly cheerful voice startles me, causing me to screech like a howler monkey.
“Sweet Lord, Molly. You can’t sneak up on people like that.”
“Clearly, I can. And you’re easy to sneak up on. You’re totally zoned out. Besides, it’s time for lunch.”
“It’s not Friday.”
“You don’t eat on Mondays? That’s new.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I also know that you avoided my texts all weekend. That’s either because you spent two days being sexed up by your own personal love slave or because something bad happened. And the look on your face tells me something bad happened.”
“Um… that’s a long story. It will require food.” I save my current project and grab my bag and sweater. Afterall, a girl’s gotta eat. And, if I’m out of the building, I’m far less likely to run into Simon.
“And that’s precisely why I’m here. Let’s go to Fat Jerry’s. I could go for a sub. And does this story explain why Simon called off today?”
“He’s not coming in today?” I’m both relieved and disheartened.
“Nope. Dan’s in charge of IT today. I figured maybe you and Simon took a sex day, but you’re here, and looking a little rough, no offense, so I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“A sex day? That’s not real.”
“It’s totally real. It’s like a sick day, but for sex. I mean, I doubt it’s in the employee handbook, but who reads that thing anyway?”
“I proof that annually. People better read it.”
“I’m sure they do…” Molly gives a dubious shrug.
