“Are you joking? How inappropriate.”

“Yeah, maybe, but Dee sure looks happy today.”

Just when I thought my opinion of him couldn’t get any lower, I am proven wrong.

Vicky’s cell vibrates on my desk and immediately she picks it up with an amused smile and shoves it in my face.

“What am I looking at?”

She points to the message from Jean-Phillipe; it’s hot, heavy, and wow, could this man talk dirty!

“What’s with all the hashtags?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s this thing we do. You know, rather than typing sentences together we just hashtag a word or a string of words which kind of mean the same thing.”

Right, I am so out of the loop. Is this how you communicate today with potential lovers? All in hashtags? What happened to old-fashioned flirting? You know, some playful banter face-to-face and a ‘Hey, how about a nightcap at my apartment’ type of wink at the end?

“So tell me, Vicky, what would you type to describe how much of an asshole Haden is?”

She places her index finger on the corner of her mouth, then as if a light bulb goes off in her head, she says, “Worst day ever #RuinedBlouse #Jerk.”

I smile instantly. “You summed it up perfectly. #Jerk.”

 

Whoever invented the saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ had obviously never been knee-deep in manuscripts that required immediate attention. Thursday rolled around fast, and being the busiest day in the office, one person was always nominated to do the lunch run. With deadlines hovering over my head like a grey cloud, I was quick to pass the buck to someone else.

Deep into the second chapter of an erotic thriller, I feel the presence of someone beside me. The charcoal grey pants are a dead giveaway and inadvertently, I groan, granting myself some patience to deal with him today. Why the fuck won’t he just leave me alone? I’ve met my share of annoying human beings but Haden Cooper takes the cake.

“I’m taking orders,” he huffs in annoyance.

I give him my full attention and decide to have a little fun with him. After all, he did ruin a blouse that even the dry cleaners declared a write-off for. Yes, I will have fun. Serves him right for being such a jerk.

“At my beck and call? Well I’ll have the roast chicken on rye, lettuce, tomato, and no mayo. I repeat—no mayo.”

He stares back at me without writing down my order.

“You might want to write it down.”

“I have a good enough memory.”

A loose laugh escapes me. “That’s funny, I think Trina down on ten would beg to differ.”

His eyes twitch, caught in an awkward moment. I want to see what pathetic excuse he has for this.

“Who?”

“Really, Haden? I don’t know how men can just screw around with strangers and not even take a moment to remember someone’s name,” I rant.

He leans on my desk and rubs the slight stubble on his chin. “You seem awfully interested in my sex life, Presley Malone. Is there something I’m missing here?”

“What?” I shoot back, almost a little too nervous. “Please, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. No, make it a twenty-foot pole with an extension. God, you’re so insensitive. You don’t care about anyone’s feelings and have zero respect in the workplace.”

“Anything else?”

“Plus, you’re a jerk.”

He leans into me, invading my personal space. “Her name is Trina Flower. I didn’t call her back because after the one time we had sex she cried and said she loved me. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping around if it’s mutually agreed upon. Maybe you need to try it sometime.” He raises the finger that once held my engagement ring. “And since there is no longer a ring on this finger, maybe that’s just what you need.”

The fucking nerve! To blatantly come out and suggest such a thing. The vein in my forehead is surely going to burst and my hands are itching to smack that smirk off his face.

“How dare you say that? You don’t know me and I’m certainly glad you don’t! Don’t you have lunch to collect?”

He stands up straight and I relish in the thought of him leaving me alone, the whole conversation disappearing along with him. Why does everyone assume that because Jason and I broke up, we would drown ourselves in meaningless sex with strangers? I am not that person. Before Jason came along I had slept with three men, and each time I had been dating them for at least seven weeks before I jumped into the sack. It is kind of my rule, and I strongly believe it gives me sufficient time to get to know the person I will be intimate with. And anyway, the mere thought of another man touching me right now makes my skin crawl. I still have a tan line on my finger from where my engagement ring once sat.

Surely, there has to be some rule to follow for breakups. For example, one year of a relationship equals one month before dating, two years equals two months, and so if that is the correct equation, five months is officially my ‘back on the market and ready to date’ timeline. I know if I run this past Vicky, she would give me a lecture about how your hymen could grow back and you’ll be re-virginized or some bullshit like that.

An hour later the Jerk returns, throwing a brown paper bag onto my desk before walking away. I pull it towards me as I hear him laugh along with Dee at her desk. Not wanting to eavesdrop (because I don’t give a shit), I open my sandwich and see the mayonnaise spread all over it. I stomp my feet under my desk; I am allergic to mayonnaise! Scooping my sandwich into my hand, I follow his voice until I am standing at Dee’s desk, interrupting their flirtatious encounter once again.

“I said no mayo.” I shove the sandwich in front of his chest.

He pushes it back towards me. “Sorry Princess, I’ve got the memory of a goldfish apparently. I’m sure you can handle a little mayo. The extra calories won’t harm your precious diet.”

“It’s not about being on a diet! God Haden, you’re a jerk, you know that?”

“Apparently so,” he responds, amused.

“I can’t even…. Just stay away from me.”

I throw the sandwich into the trash and storm off back to my desk. By 3pm, I’m starving. My stomach is making a symphony of noises that sound like a bunch of angry lions. The vending machine provides comfort, but a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar are a far cry from lunch.

I immerse myself in my work until the office starts to clear out. Knowing that I’m going home to an empty apartment makes it hard to leave. For the past week I have purposely stayed late, until that nagging voice inside my head reminds me that it was my decision. I chose to let go of a perfectly good man for reasons that still baffle me. Being alone is something I have to get used to, but after five years of having a man beside me every night, sleeping alone became tough and insomnia reared its ugly head.

Tonight, I want to curl up with a good book and visit my fictional boyfriends. Now let me tell you, my list is long. I am the equivalent to Hugh Hefner, but instead of bunnies I have this ever-growing list of male characters that have stolen my heart.

I pack my things and just as my monitor shuts down, I hear the muffled chatter from Dee’s desk. I make my way towards the lift, happy to put this awful day behind me. Entering the lift, I hit the button to take me to the ground level when a pair of hands push the door open. I look up and see Haden’s arm draped over Dee’s shoulder. As the doors close, I move as much as I can to the corner and count down the seconds until we hit my floor. Her lighthearted giggles and a possible pinch on the ass as he whispers something in her ear are highly inappropriate in this confined space.

When the lobby greets us, I have already made my way to the front of the elevator, ready to flee this nauseating display of affection which I’m sure is for my benefit...well, on his part anyway.