“You don’t want to do the girl thing, drag what happened out, and talk about emotions and bullshit?”

“Nope. I’d rather not.”

My choice to remain tight-lipped is increasing his anger, and I’m getting off on it.

“I don’t get you. You had no problem talking about your ex.” The way he says the word “ex” sounds like he’s swallowing poison.

“Well, I am done talking.”

His eyes are focused in on my lips. I sense he is biting his tongue and in a matter of seconds he will explode.

“Why were you talking to Marcus?”

“Your cousin? Because it’s polite when someone introduces himself.” I almost laugh at the question.

“Is something going on between you two?

“It’s none of your business, Jerk. You keep reminding me I have an ex, which makes me single, right? So the last time I checked, I’m not bound to anyone.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want anything more to do with me?”

“That’s it,” I repeat, staring him directly in the eyes.

“You’re fine to sweep this under the rug and forget that it ever happened?”

“Consider it swept, vacuumed, and in the trash taken away. Are we done now?”

“Apparently so.”

Lunch with Clive couldn’t have rolled around fast enough. Haden had gone back to his desk and I was happy to put my head down and forget about our argument. Except, I couldn’t. Why was he so interested in my conversation with Marcus? He acted almost—don’t say it, Presley—jealous.

Okay, rewind. Haden had never shown interest in me prior to Friday night. He had been working at the company for six months now and apart from the annoying pranks, not once did he show any interest in my personal life including my dating status.

The same goes for me. All I knew was that he was a man-whore who somehow attracted women into his man-whore lair where he screwed them without a name to the face. I never really took the time to notice him, being so caught up in my work and relationship with Jason.

I’m fairly certain I’m overthinking things. He made it clear that we were to forget Friday night happened. Surely he was happy-dancing deep down inside that I wasn’t calling and telling him that I loved him.

And with all that said and done, it’s evident that we both made a huge error in judgment. A mistake never to be repeated, and therefore we move on because it’s all in the past.

Clive takes my mind off things at lunch, reenacting every scenario from his almost Lampoon European Vacation. All he was missing was Clark Griswold and a redhead named Rusty. We are sitting in a nearby café, having just ordered, when Dee walks in. She spots us immediately, and without using her manners and asking politely, takes a seat in the empty chair at our table.

Dee is the kind of woman that keeps the cosmetic industry booming. Her bleached blonde hair against her fake spray-on tan does nothing for her. She reminds me a lot of a Playboy bunny (an extremely flat-chested one). Beneath the layers of makeup she wears is no doubt a pretty woman. If only she didn’t make herself look like a Barbie doll.

“Your pitch was a winner. I think you’ve got that one in the bag,” Clive tells her with a mouthful of salad.

“Haden raised some good points though,” she mumbles, a little disheartened.

“He has no clue, Dee,” I remind her.

“I think he does. No offense, Clive, but women don’t want to read about men getting hot and heavy. They want alpha billionaires breaking their virginity.”

“Why are you letting him sway you? Yeah, I get that you’re sleeping with him, but honestly Dee, grow some balls.”

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“What? First of all, Presley, I haven’t slept with him. Fooled around, yes. Second of all, I’ve got balls! Or whatever…” she snarls.

“Ooh, catty.” Clive raises his hand and makes a claw.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I shouldn’t have assumed that because I see the both of you tongue-wrestling at every opportunity, you have actually slept together.”

My tone is off. Snarky. Catty, as Clive just put it. Gee, someone would think I was jealous. Again with that word.

“Everything but.” She winks this time.

“Ooh a wink? Do tell!” Clive’s enthusiasm prompts Dee to fess up.

“He’s pierced.”

I choke on the cherry tomato that I’m swallowing that instant. Clive is patting me on the back repeatedly as I try to calm myself down, gulping a whole heap of water.

“You alright there, cowgirl?” Clive asks.

I nod, bright red with embarrassment.

“I know, it’s taboo right? I mean it’s pierced right on the tip. I can’t wait to see what it feels like inside.”

Clive laughs. “Why don’t you just tell him you want to do the horizontal tango?”

“Because Clive, I have and he says soon. Lord knows what he is waiting for. We’ve kinda been fooling around for weeks.”

I’m not a gossiper, but I am desperate to get answers, so I bring it up. “What about Trina?”

“The chick that cried after they had sex? Apparently he was off his face that night. They were flirting for weeks.”

What the hell did this all mean? He flirts with Trina then fucks her when drunk or drugged. He hasn’t sealed the deal with Dee, but he screws me in the alleyway without any thought.

Do not read any more into this. It means nothing and even if it was something, you don’t think of him that way. It was a just a mistake. A big fat huge mistake that should be listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the worst mistake ever.

My thoughts are like poison, slowing seeping through my veins until I am consumed wholly by thoughts of the evil one. I need to stop this madness now. With Clive and Dee busily discussing genital piercings, I take out my cell and find Marcus’s number. I am straight to the point, asking him to meet up for lunch tomorrow. He responds immediately, naming a place and time.

Whatever Haden’s problem with Marcus and me being friends, he will have to overcome it. A week into being single and already there’s drama. This is not what I had in mind when I broke up with Jason.

Marcus is sweet, friendly, and hopefully drama-free. And to top it off, it feels good to sweep Friday night’s regrets under the rug. Just like I had said—swept, vacuumed, and in the trash the Jerk goes.

 

The next day, Marcus shows up at the office, midday on the dot. Since the last time I saw him (just short of twenty-four hours ago) I had forgotten how good-looking he is. Wearing a black-striped business shirt paired with charcoal pants, his tattooed arms are completely covered and one would think he was some corporate mogul.

But I know how deliciously dangerous he is underneath.

He sits casually on my desk, and we briefly chat while I gather my purse, ready to head out for lunch. In such close proximity, my senses have picked up that he is wearing the same cologne Jason once wore. I’m trying my damn hardest to remember my reasons for wanting more than Jason, scared to admit even to myself that it may have been a huge mistake on my behalf. Yes, I got that all from a bottle of Hugo Boss.

I stand up, straightening my dress, when the Jerk invades my cubicle. Today he chose not to wear a tie, exposing his smooth, tanned skin. Stop staring now; behave, Kitty!

“Fancy seeing you here, cousin.” Haden, has stretched his arms wide, blocking our exit.

“Well, if you see a gorgeous woman like Presley, you ask her out,” Marcus responds with a cocky grin.

The two of them watch each other intently, but I swear at this moment they are having a full-on conversation in their heads. I’m certain it involves boxing gloves and Brad Pitt standing in the corner of the ring saying “Welcome to Fight Club.”