The nerve of this fucking asshole to do this today, a Monday morning for Christ’s sake, when I have a presentation to do in one hour. And my poor, poor blouse. I had really high hopes that it would keeping me smiling throughout this whole ordeal. I no longer care what comes out of my mouth; Haden Cooper needs a fucking lesson in manners and I am just about to give it to him when he pulls my chair closer to him, catching me off guard with a devilish grin.

“You know, if you woke up with me, you’d always be on the right side of the bed.”

Is he serious? What a complete ass!

“Haden, thanks for nothing. Now get out of my way.”

I spend close to an hour in the bathroom, cleaning my blouse and standing in my bra, trying to dry off under the hand dryer. My heels tap impatiently against the floor tiles. Argh! The nerve of him! And to make it worse, what kind of a line was that? I replay the words in my head; like seriously, cheesiest line ever.

So stop thinking about it.

Thankfully, I borrow a blazer from a fellow employee and button it up to cover the stains. Providing the room stays at the same temperature, I can manage.

The boardroom is filling with colleagues and I prepare my materials, ready to stand at the front of the table. Having done this a dozen times, it has become second nature. Halfway through my presentation, the air becomes stifling hot and my armpits start to stick to the blazer. Did someone turn up the heat in here? It’ll be alright, as long as I don’t sweat where anyone else can see.

As I look at others seated around the table, some are peeling their jackets off while others use a piece of paper to fan their face. My eyes scan the table for the remote to the air con unit but cannot spot it for the life of me. There were a million questions asked, and normally I enjoy answering, but today I am a bitch in heat and ready to tear that smug look off Haden’s face. It’s clear that this presentation won’t end as quickly as I want it to, so I take the jacket off and watch as everyone stares at my stained blouse with curiosity.

“Enough with the staring, a moron spilled tea all over me this morning.”

“Sounds to me like you need to pay more attention to those around you,” Haden snickers.

I shoot him a death stare, ready to tear him a new one. I don’t think anyone dares to question me further, so I carry on and wrap up as quickly as possible.

Making my way back to my desk, I slam my notebook and pen down, nearly missing the showdown that is happening beside me.

“I know you didn’t want me to come up here, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

As the familiar voice continues, I lean my head slightly to see Trina at Haden’s desk.

Get out of town! Of course he would do something like this.

The voices become muffled until Trina storms off, visibly in tears. I give it a few moments before standing up to confront him. He is leaning causally over Dee’s partition, and from where I can see, she is flashing some major leg. You’ve got to be kidding me. I know it’s none of my business, but I head over to where he is standing.

“Wow, it’s like you have no moral conscience whatsoever.”

“What’s your problem now, Malone?”

“You just don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. I mean look at me, you don’t care that you’ve ruined a brand new blouse that cost me a hell of a lot of money, then you embarrass me in front of everyone in that presentation, and to top that off, you treat Trina like last night’s take-out box!”

Dee is shocked at my outburst, and carefully pulls her skirt down to cover herself up. Haden is livid, and I swear if you look closely, you can see steam coming out of his ears. His eyes have narrowed behind his glasses, and in an effort to control himself, he runs his hands through his dirty-blond hair.

“Some mouth on you, Malone. You better watch your back. Human Resources would deem that as harassment.”

“Harassment? I’m the victim here, not you!”

I storm off, having spent enough time and energy on him that I forgot all about my best friend Vicky. She is sitting on my desk when I return, all smiles and giggles, having returned from Paris only yesterday.

“Ah Mademoiselle Malone,” she says in a thick, but fake, French accent.

Defeated, I slump in my chair. “Tell me about Paris, in your normal voice please?”

She sits on the corner of my desk, crossing her legs appropriately. Vicky and I met a couple years back through mutual friends. At the time, she was having an affair with the biggest loser to walk this earth, a married man with three kids. It ended badly so from that day on, Vicky vowed to never get into a serious relationship again, and was happy to play the field.

“The shopping was fantastic, totally maxed my credit card. The sightseeing was awesome and the men…. Pres, like seriously, the French men know how to make you scream so loud, I swear the people at the top of the Eiffel Tower could hear us.”

“A one-time type of thing?”

“You know me, Pres. I like my men foreign. Keeps the fantasy alive.”

“But aren’t you worried about what could happen after?”

“Like what? I’m always protected, you’ve got to make sure the both of you understand it’s a no-strings-attached kinda night. Anyway, I met this guy, Jean-Phillipe, and he’s been texting me all day.”

Distracted by her cell, she types something ridiculously fast into it, then places it on the table.

“So, are you going to finally tell me what happened with Jason?”

“We broke it off. I’m fine, really,” I lie, convincingly.

“We so need to get you drunk and in someone’s bed, pronto.”

“Wait, Vicky, that’s awful. I’m not like that, plus I would never do that to Jason.”

“How do you know he hasn’t done it already? Where did he stay last night?” she is quick to interrogate.

“At a friend’s house, and besides, Jason is not like that.”

The thought of Jason being with another woman pulls on the jealous strings that I thought laid dormant. I am not that type of girl and I strongly believe Jason wouldn’t so heartlessly jump into the next bed that came along. He is a better man than that.

“Pres, look, I’m not trying to be insensitive. Jason is a guy. Just don’t be surprised if he has moved on,” she says, this time in a softer tone.

I’m not a big crier, and the thought of crying at work is embarrassing in its own right. I can control my emotions, even if Vicky is staring at me like I’m an orphaned child with no shoes on my feet.

“We only broke up last week. His stuff is still in our apartment,” I croak.

“Yeah, well trust me, they only need a minute of being released from the ball and chain.”

“I’m not a ball and chain!”

“Well you’re not exactly a spontaneous ‘let’s push everything off the table and fuck like wild animals’ kinda gal either.”

She has a point; I can’t think of anything worse. What a mess that would make. And my pens? No, don’t go there.

I move my mouse to start up my computer when I notice some excess tea on my desk. Letting out a huff, I grab another tissue to wipe it down. This day needs to be over so I can crawl into bed and forget the world exists. Vicky raises her eyebrow at me and I unbutton the blazer that I had placed back on, revealing the stained blouse.

Unable to control herself, she laughs out loud, resting her hand on my shoulder with a sympathetic look.

“On the bus ride over here?”

“Nope, just an asshole that is now trying to get into Dee’s pants.”

“Haden? How can someone so hot be such a royal pain in the ass?”

“Hot? I can’t see past the arrogance and petulant behavior. He’s like a goddam box of mixed chocolates; you don’t know what you’re going to get next.”

“Dee told me he wanted a threesome on Saturday night. Tried to get with her and her sister.”