Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  Lowering myself back into the chair behind my drafting table, I picked up my pencil and didn’t look at her again. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Don’t worry. None of this ever happened between us.”

  It hurt to say the words, but I said them anyway. She regretted what happened. That was all there was to it. I wasn’t likely to forget her anytime soon, but I would damn well fake it until I made it.

  Gripping my pencil, I started furiously sketching my first draft. If she wanted to go back to being nothing but boss and employee, then so be it. I would never fucking bring it up again. We were over. Done. End of story.

  Chapter 26

  Layton

  Freezing rain pelted the office windows, the skies angry and miserable. I stood with my back to my office, staring at the Boston skyline –what little of it not obscured by the weather. Lightning cracked the sky in half, adding to the general gloom outside.

  It wasn’t much better in my office. Sighing, I dragged my hands through my hair. In the two weeks since Marissa came into my office and went off about how we had to forget anything ever happened between us, we’d managed to avoid each other.

  It was no easy feat in an office the size of ours, but I hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of the buxom blonde who had intrigued me as much as she’d annoyed me from day one. The last two Fridays, I’d let my second in command handle the weekly staff meetings.

  Marissa had sent the reports she needed to get to me via email to my assistant, and several times had dropped documents with her. One morning I arrived to find a pile of papers neatly stacked on my desk.

  The loopy handwriting on the notes stuck to the pages belonged to Marissa, but I doubted she had been the one to bring them into my office, since the stack had been perfectly aligned. In some ways, I missed the way nothing of hers ever really lined up. The way some documents were always sticking out at odd angles and the sticky notes never had the same amount of overlap on the page.

  I shut the parts of me that missed those things down before the thoughts could fully form. Marissa and I had our fun, but she made it clear she wanted no more of that aspect of our relationship.

  Frankly, she’d done me a favor. Not only had she all but lied to me about having a daughter, but if she always handled potential confrontation about something that needed to be discussed like a very stubborn bull in a very small china shop, things were bound to have ended with a bang sooner rather than later anyway.

  I shook my head. It was better this way. She was nothing more than an employee to me at this stage and I was nothing more than her boss. That was the way things should have been after all. But for a guy suffering from borderline obsessive compulsive disorder about everything being in its proper place, I should have felt more relieved that things with Marissa were finally the way they should have been.

  Unfortunately, despite our unspoken agreement to give each other some space, I had to go to her office soon. Another crack of lightning followed by a rumble of thunder split the sky as I turned around to grab the documents I needed to discuss with her. I hoped it wasn’t an omen of the conversation we were about to have.

  I wasn’t the type of person who avoided people or confrontation. I preferred to get whatever had to happen out of the way. Mostly, I’d avoided contact these last weeks in deference to the very obvious ‘I need space so leave me alone’ vibe Marissa gave off at our last conversation, but I couldn’t do it anymore.

  Clients were waiting for us to deliver finalized quotes and budget estimates. I couldn’t put it off because my accounting manager didn’t feel like spending time with me at the moment.

  Resigned to what was sure to be a tense meeting, I grabbed the stack of reports from my desk and headed to her office. I needed to get to our project site anyway, so I couldn’t stay in Marissa’s office very long even if I wanted to.

  Which I did not.

  The faster I could get in and out, the happier I would be. Getting involved with her was a mistake. I had suspected as much before we’d ever slept together, but now I knew for sure. And it wasn’t a mistake I felt like repeating.

  If I could only get my traitorous body to go along with the plan, that would be great. As it was, my body had gotten along with hers rather well, and wasn’t so quick to let go. It would be lying to pretend otherwise. My body missed the feel of hers.

  It missed her soft skin and low moans. It missed the accidental brushes of our hands or legs, and the way her hair felt between my fingers. Most of all, it missed sinking into her slick core and finding her hot and wanting.

  But it wasn’t the sex that was the problem between us. It had never been the sex. It was much more complicated than that. For that reason, I had to force my body to forget about hers and to eventually stop missing things I would never feel again.

  Along with my respect for Marissa’s clear wishes that I keep my distance for a while, I was hoping staying away from her would help my body forget.

  It turned out that two weeks wasn’t nearly long enough to achieve that goal. As soon as I set foot in her office and that lilac and vanilla scent hit me, I had to fight the dizzying need that blazed through my veins and hit me straight in the cock.

  Clearing my throat, I waited for her to look up before making my way to her desk. “I reviewed the reports on the Anderson and the Gala Foundation files. My notes on the amendments to be made before we can finalize them are in the margins.”

  Politeness dictated I start with a greeting and perhaps some small talk, but I didn’t think either of us cared about politeness at this point. Civility was as far as I was willing to reach and I was pretty sure hand delivering the reports because of the urgency and telling her what needed to be done next qualified as civility.

  She looked up when I set the documents down on her desk, her blue eyes stormy and dark. The tense set of her jaw matched mine and our shoulders were competing for rigidity. Nodding briskly, she dragged the stack of papers closer. “I’ll get it done before the end of the day and have it back to you before I leave.”

  As she dragged the reports I dropped closer, the papers clipped the edge of another stack on her desk, sending it dangerously close to toppling over. I caught myself just before I reached out to straighten it, tapping my fingers against my thigh instead.

  The old tick to modulate my urges to set things straight had returned with ten times the intensity it had before I met her. For a couple of days there, I learned to let things go, to let them just be the way they are around her. She brought organizational chaos wherever she went and somehow, I managed to relax my urge to correct it around her.

  Those days were long over. Horrified, I watched the stack of papers wobble, but Marissa didn’t even seem to notice. Meeting my eyes again, she gave me a pointed look. “Was there anything else you needed?”

  “Not a thing,” I said curtly, then gave her a quick nod and walked out of her office.

  I didn’t thank her for the reports or for promising to get the work done by day’s end. There was no need. She was just an employee and I was just her boss. If I had to run around thanking every one of my staff members for doing their work, I wouldn’t get any of my own done.

  On my way to my car to meet Craig at the site, I shook out my tense muscles. My first conversation with Marissa hadn’t been comfortable, or really much of a conversation, but at least it was over now.

  My best friend and main contractor waited for me when I reached our site, holding out a takeout cup of coffee in his gloved hand. Craig handed it to me when I got closer, a grin on his bearded face. “Whoa. I’m not gonna lie boss, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” I snapped, accepting the coffee and taking a sip of the bitter liquid inside. It was piping hot, but it was so cold out I didn’t mind. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I can see that,” he commented, narrowing his autumn hazel eyes. Craig was a gentle giant. A big ball of muscle and brawn with a soft and gooey center. It was a center he kept mostly to himself, but I knew
him well enough to know that in his own way, he wore his massive heart on his sleeve.

  This time of year, his shaggy brown hair was forever hidden by a woolen beanie jammed over his head, the edges of his curls peeking out. He wore a bright orange safety jacket and brown leather work boots with faded jeans, his standard fare.

  Where I chucked my clothes when they began to show signs of wear, Craig kept his well beyond, and seemed to prefer them the more scuffed and worn out they got. He stared at me from the corner of his eyes, narrowing them to slits. “What’s going on with you?”

  I shrugged. “Work has been busy. What’s going on with you?”

  Shaking his head, he laughed. “No way. You’re not getting off the hook that easily. What’s going on with that Marissa girl?”

  “There’s nothing going on with her.” I replied more brashly than I intended to. This set Craig’s alarm bells off.

  Pausing mid-stride, he turned to face me. “Oh. There was something going on, now there’s not. That explains why you look the way you do. What happened?”

  It wasn’t a request for information, it was a demand. Blowing out a deep breath, I gave him the basics. “It turns out she’s a mom. She never told me. The kid came to the office a couple of weeks ago with Marissa’s friend. She was sick. I’m not exactly sure what was wrong or what happened, but I gave her the rest of the day off to go to the doctor. The next day, she barges into my office and tells me we have to stop what we’re doing.”

  Craig’s eyes widened, his brow lifting. “Just like that? Were you an asshole to her about the kid?”

  I snorted. “I didn’t have time to be an asshole about it. She was in my office, things were good between us. Next thing I know there’s a mini-Marissa, the woman who brought her says they have to go to the doctor and they were out of there.”

  “She didn’t explain why she didn’t tell you about the kid?” He asked, pushing his eyebrows together as he scratched his chin.”

  “I asked,” shrugging like it didn’t matter, but it did. I still didn’t really understand why she hadn’t told me or why she was as angry with me as she had been. “She said I wasn’t her boyfriend, so there was no reason to tell me.”

  “Ouch,” Craig winced, sighing as he yanked his beanie off his head and ran his hand through his hair before shoving it back on. “I think I kind of get it, though.”

  “Get what?” I frowned, annoyed. I didn’t fucking get it at all.

  Craig’s expression turned pensive. He stared at the buildings behind me before sliding his gaze back to mine. “My mom was a single mom. She was crazy protective over me, stupidly so at times.”

  “My dad was a single dad most of my life,” I retorted. “It’s not an excuse.”

  He shook his head, rolling his eyes like I was missing something. “I don’t have a kid and I obviously didn’t have much of a dad, but it’s different with moms, man. It runs deeper than I think we’ll ever understand.”

  Waving my hand, I turned away from him and sipped my coffee. “It’s not something I’m interested in understanding. Not anymore.”

  “It’s your call,” he said, but didn’t sound like he meant it. I could hear from his tone that he disagreed with my assessment of the situation, but he let it be. “It’s a bummer things didn’t work out. Especially since you still have to see her every day. If she didn’t do the work she did, you could’ve just let her go. But damn, she’s good at her job.”

  I ignored his comment, not bothering with a reply. Instead, I walked to the entrance of the new building. “Why don’t you show me around here? The client needs me to report back if we’re on track and on budget. Talking about Marissa tells me neither of those things.”

  Chapter 27

  Marissa

  Days at the office dragged on and on. The clock seemed to have slowed down, hours passing as slowly as an antagonizing snail. One who knew you’d bet on him and was intentionally showing you why it had been a mistake to do so.

  At the same time as it felt like years had passed since that day in Layton’s office when I broke things off, it also felt like the conversation had happened mere minutes ago.

  With the stubborn refusal of the hands on the clock to move at any freaking decent speed, I had way too much time to think about the man in the office on the other side of the building. I found myself bracing for when I would finally see him again, both hoping I would and dreading the minute it would happen.

  When he came to my office earlier, it was all I could do to not burst into tears. I hated the distance between us, the frigid tension. I wished more than anything that things could be different between us.

  Those few weeks I’d spent being more than just his employee—if not as his full-blown girlfriend—were the most alive I remembered feeling in the longest time. He made me feel like the woman I used to be and the woman I wanted to become all at once.

  While things had always been casual between us, there had been nights where under the cover of darkness and in the infinite possibility of tomorrow, I allowed myself to fantasize about really being with him.

  The fantasies were few and far between, but I remembered them vividly. How I imagined Layton would be shocked when I told him about Annie, but would then meet her and fall head over heels in love with both of us. I pictured us becoming a family, and doing family things together.

  It was always an impossibility, but I let my head go there in those moments when I was too tired to fight it. When I thought there was no harm in letting my mind run free and enjoying the daydreams.

  I was wrong about there being no harm. There was harm. Plenty of it. Those thoughts harmed me now that things were over between us. They plagued me, making me mourn a future I was never going to have anyway, yet stupidly let myself conjure up.

  Along with wishing things could have been different between us, I wished I could take back some of the things I’d said to him that day in his office. I was so angry that day, furious with myself for having been too busy flirting with him to notice my phone buzzing in my purse.

  Guilt ate me up from the inside out, and determination never to be so distracted that I wasn’t there for Annie when she needed me burned so hot in my heart that I wasn’t thinking straight. All of my negative emotions—everything I felt from the minute I found out she’d been sick and they couldn’t reach me—I took out on him.

  Every bit of my guilt, rage and conviction to do better was churning inside me when I marched into his office, and came flying out of my mouth and landed on him. Hindsight being perfect vision, I knew I acted irrationally.

  It wasn’t Layton’s fault I never took my phone out of my purse that day. It wasn’t his fault I never took it off vibrate mode after our last meeting together. It wasn’t his fault Annie got sick, or that Denise had to drag her all the way to my office before we could go to urgent care.

  All of those things were on me. It was my fault. It had been unfair and unreasonable of me to blame him for it. I had done it though, and that was on me too.

  I couldn’t take it back. There was no way to unsay all those things I said to him, no matter how much I wanted to. I owed him an apology, but I hadn’t given it to him yet.

  The truth was that I was afraid of what might happen if I apologized. If he accepted and told me he would forget that day ever happened, would he want to go back to the way things were between us before? Would I?

  It was better that we were over. I didn’t want to experience what I had when Denise brought Annie to my office that day. I never wanted to have to stand in the urgent care office again, telling a doctor what had transpired as a second hand account because I hadn’t been there.

  I should have known what was happening with Annie every step of the way. Should have been able to give the doctor that information because I had been there, or at least been informed as the morning went on.

  If Layton accepted my apology, which was a gigantic if, I wasn’t ready to go back to being whatever it was that we used to be to each other
. And so, like a coward, I left things to be what and how they were.

  I avoided Layton as much as I could, kept my head down and did my job to the very best of my ability. On the one hand, it was my way of apologizing—by working twice as hard while the clock moved twice as slowly. On the other hand, it was my attempt to bury myself in my work so I wouldn’t have time to think about him.

  Thinking about him wouldn’t do anyone any good. I had to move on from him, and do what he had agreed he would and forget anything ever happened between us. It really was for the best, for personal as well as job security reasons.

  The long hand of the Batman clock on my desk finally hit five and I breathed out a relieved sigh. Seeing Layton and speaking to him for the first time hadn’t been good to me. Those fantasies surfaced along with memories of the time we had together and it had distracted me all day.

  Thankfully it was Friday and I wouldn’t be seeing him again until Monday morning—at the very earliest. I couldn’t wait to spend the weekend with Denise and Annie, to give my girl some cuddles and regain my perspective on why breaking things off with Layton had been the right thing to do.

  All the way home, I tried to shut down the feelings the brief time and few words I had shared with Layton had brought up. I wasn’t that successful, and struggled to refocus my attention.

  Denise and Annie were in the living room when I got home, crafting blobs out of pink playdoh. Coaxing a bright smile onto my lips despite my melancholy, I shrugged out of my coat. “What have you two been up to?”

  Annie whirled around at the sound of my voice, excitedly and proudly displaying a misshapen figure on her palm. “We’re making dinosaurs. Look at this one, her name is Dippy.”

  “Dippy?” I asked, crouching down to give Annie a hug and get a closer look at Dippy the wannabe dinosaur. She had what might have been a long neck, a bubble of a body and four balls as feet. No head as far as I could see. Certainly no features that distinguished her as a dinosaur instead of an elephant-in-the-making. “Did you have fun making Dippy?”