Love to Hate You

by Jo Watson

  “Arrogant!”

  “Enamored!”

  “Overdressed.”

  “I could say the same for you.” The look in his eyes changed as I felt my entire body shiver under the intense stare of him trying to undress me.

  “Like I said, pervert!”

  “Perhaps there’s more to me than meets the eye. Something you might discover when you go on your first date with me.”

  “Presumptuous.”

  “You know, it would be great if we had a conversation that didn’t only consist of three-syllable words. But unfortunately not today, I have to go to work.”

  “On a Sunday?” I asked.

  “This calendar thing is becoming a bit of an issue.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “We need to present the client with our big, awesome idea soon and we don’t have one. And the shoot is scheduled for early next week.”

  “Not a lot of time.”

  “There never is in this industry. But I guess that’s what keeps it exciting … I like challenges.” His eyes flicked up and down my body one more time and I tried to ignore their loaded look.

  “Why don’t you just come up with the idea and save the day? Legend has it that you’re supposed to be this creative genius.”

  “It’s not really my job to come up with all the ideas all the time. It’s my job to coach others and mentor them to get the best ideas out of them and then refine them. Your last Creative Director didn’t really do a good job at that and now my creatives can’t seem to come up with any original ideas worth working with. They have potential, but they haven’t been challenged or pushed …” He paused and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I shouldn’t really be speaking to you about stuff like that. It’s not appropriate.”

  “I won’t tell anyone you said that.”

  “I know.” He smiled up at me. “And like I said, the calendar shoot is the only piece of work the client actually cares about all year. And he wants to hire this Italian photographer too who is apparently the ‘best,’” he gestured air commas, “which just means some very overpaid egotistical ‘artist’ who thinks the sun shines out of his arse and who thinks he’s the most important thing since Picasso.”

  I laughed out loud at that trying to imagine Ben working with someone who possibly had a bigger ego than he did.

  “I honestly think it has nothing to do with the calendar at all, I just think the client likes jetting off to exotic locations and watching a bunch of scantily clad models drape themselves all over his sports cars.”

  “Mmmm,” I mumbled, “sounds like something every guy wants.”

  Ben took a dangerous step closer. “Some guys prefer their women inside their cars, rather than outside.”

  “Stop!” I pointed a finger at him. “Why do you do that?” I stepped back. “Why is everything that comes out of your mouth so filthy?”

  Ben threw his head back and laughed. “Admit it, you love it.”

  “I don’t!” I retorted.

  He shook his head looking amused before walking away to his car. “Yes, you do. And that’s why you’re falling hopelessly in love with me,” he shouted over his shoulder before climbing into his car and driving away.

  My mouth fell open in shock and then I quickly yelled after him. “I am not! I am so not! You’re wrong!”

  “Whatever, Sera.” He gave me a wave in the rear view mirror before driving out the garage and out of sight.

  Later that day the second half of the Sunday routine began. Sunday afternoon is the only time that the restaurant is closed and we all go there to do a stocktake, and sometimes JJ likes to practice his new routines in peace. When I arrived they were already there mincing around the place. I stopped and watched them for a while, they looked like they were having a playful debate about where to put the new pot plant. I continued to watch them for a while longer, feeling amused, before stepping in and making the critical decorative decision myself.

  “So you have a bit of a smile on your face,” Bruce finally said after we’d maneuvered the surprisingly heavy plant into the chosen position.

  “It’s more than a smile,” JJ remarked, “it’s the glow of lusty-ness.”

  “Oh please,” I tried to brush it off but I knew that I couldn’t fool these two.

  “He’s gotten under your skin,” Bruce said.

  JJ tisked loudly. “Under your skin? He’s gotten under you.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Bruce asked, opening a bottle of wine and pouring three glasses. Another ritual of ours, Sunday stocktaking and drinking.

  JJ took a sip of the wine and then let out a loud breath, as if he was about to announce something. “I’ve thought about it,” he said, “and if you really want to go out with him, I’ll forgive your obvious betrayal. Fraternizing with the enemy and all that.”

  I laughed. “Gee, thanks. So generous of you. But no need to worry, I won’t be going out with him.”

  “You’re not even going to entertain the idea of going on a date with him?” Bruce asked.

  I shrugged. “I told him I’d think about it.”

  “Okay, so who’s going to film me?” JJ suddenly asked, jumping onto the stage . . “It’s Priscilla, Queen of the Desert night next week and I have to practice my routine.”

  Bruce took out his phone and went straight to the camera. JJ often filmed his routines so he could watch them later, often inflicting them on us too. “I live to serve you, dear,” Bruce said with a smile and pressed record. JJ immediately started belting out the famous Gloria Gaynor song. He followed the first chorus with a very dramatic spin around the stage and an attempt at what I presume was meant to be a pirouette.

  I laughed and shook my head. “Like I said, total gay cliché,” I teased.

  “Oh please, little miss intern doing her hot boss.”

  I immediately cringed at the sound of that, but nodded. “I guess so,” I said softly. “Oh God. I’m such a fucking cliché. All I need now is to find out he’s some kind of Persian Prince and fall pregnant with his illegitimate baby and then fall in love and get married and become the princess of some far off country called Genovia.”

  Bruce and JJ laughed out loud. “Have you been reading JJ’s romance novels?” Bruce teased.

  “What can I say, they’re my guilty pleasure,” JJ said with a naughty smile.

  I shook my head. “No. But every now and then I read the descriptions on the back. Oh, and P.S., just how many virgin brides are there out there in the world these days?”

  “Enough for all those sexy Arab sheiks to claim them as their desert concubines,” JJ quipped. We all laughed but JJ quickly stopped us by belting the song out again as loudly as he could. I sat and watched for a while, but half way through the song I got up and gave them all a wave.

  “Hey. Where you going?” JJ stopped singing and yelled.

  “Home.”

  “Liar,” JJ shouted even louder as I walked to the door, “you’re going home to have wild sex with your hot neighbor.”

  “That’s right. And I’m ovulating too so I’ll be falling pregnant with his illegitimate baby,” I laughed as I exited.

  23. Inexplicable Anticipation

  I was almost home when the car suddenly made a loud, ghastly sound. It started swiveling and skidding uncontrollably across the road. I quickly slammed on the brakes in absolute terror and it finally came to a grinding halt.

  “Shit!” My heart thumped in my chest and I cursed loudly. I looked around. At least the place I had stopped was illuminated, the road wasn’t completely dark, dingy and dangerous. I opened the door tentatively and climbed out.

  I immediately assumed it would be some kind of major engine meltdown, complete with flames and dramatic smoke billowing out of the bonnet, but that quickly changed when I saw the state of the front tyre. It was completely flat, and there, sticking out of it, as if it was mocking me, a giant nail.

  “Shit!” I cursed again, what were the chances? I stood up
and tried to figure out my next move. I didn’t have the kind of fancy insurance that you could call when you broke down and they swooped in to rescue you. Or did I need rescuing at all …

  Perhaps the one and only thing my father had given me, was the ability to change a tyre. And only because it had been a necessity. He’d been too drunk to change the tyre himself so had slouched on the side of the road barking commands at me.

  I walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. I had one of those stupid thin tyres that looked like a biscuit. I took it out, as well as all the tools. It was freezing outside and I momentarily thought of phoning the guys for help, but realized very quickly that they probably knew less about changing tyres than I did. The idea of phoning Ben flashed through my mind for a second, but I quickly pushed it out.

  I laid the tyre on the ground next to my car and then tried to locate the jack. But it was nowhere to be found. By this stage my fingers and nose felt like they were about to fall off. And then, just to add insult to injury, a car sped by and through a massive puddle of water and …

  My face and upper body were covered in freezing cold, filthy puddle water. I wiped my face, trying not to think about what else could be in that water, like rat droppings and drowned earthworm carcasses that had been marinating for days.

  I shivered and my teeth began chattering together as the water seeped through my top and coated my skin. It was official, I needed help. I pulled my phone out, dialed JJ and Bruce’s numbers, but both just rang. They probably couldn’t hear their phones over all the singing, so I left a message. I looked down at my phone, realizing that I didn’t really have a choice, unless I wanted to freeze to death on the side of the road, or worse, be whisked away by highway bandits.

  I went to my messages, and looked at Ben’s number for a few moments, before summoning up the courage to dial it. This was the first time we’d talked on the phone, and despite the cold, my heart started pounding with some kind of weird inexplicable anticipation. I didn’t have to wait long, two rings was all it took before he answered.

  “Sera!” He sounded so pleased with himself.

  “Hey, what are you doing right now?” I asked. “Like, this very second?”

  His voice took on a predictable naughty tone. “Whatever you want me to be doing?”

  “Okay. And do you have a jack?” I asked, through chattering teeth.

  I heard a chuckle on the phone. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. This was definitely not the time for not-so-subtle sexual innuendos. “Ben, what I need is a car jack. And what I really need is for you to please come to the off-ramp of the M1 North and help me change my car tyre, please.”

  “Shit! Have you broken down?” He sounded worried.

  “Yup.”

  “That’s not safe. I’ll be there in five minutes. Climb into your car and lock the doors.”

  “Okay, I will. Uh … thanks for doing this.” I started climbing back into my car and locked my doors.

  “I’d do anything for you, Sera. In case you hadn’t noticed by now.” He hung up and suddenly I didn’t feel as cold, thanks to all the warm flutterings happening inside my body.

  It was more like three minutes when I caught sight of the black car tearing around the bend. The car almost skidded to a stop and then he jumped out wearing a full black suit. I almost laughed at the James Bond-ness of this moment.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, as I opened my car door and stepped out.

  I nodded. “Fine.”

  He eyed me. “You don’t look very fine, your lips are blue. Are you cold?” He reached down and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Shit. You’re wet.”

  “Compliments of a passing car.”

  “Here.” He whisked his jacket off in one very heroic-ish move and passed it to me. “You should probably take off your top and put this on.”

  “Off?” I looked at him, he wasn’t being flirty and playful this time, in fact, he sounded serious.

  “Well, you can’t keep those wet clothes on in this weather. Take your top off, put this on and sit in the car next to the heater.”

  “My heater doesn’t really work.”

  “Here,” he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to me, “I’ll sort the wheel out, you get warm.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. I was really grateful for his suggestion, because by this stage, I was freezing. I climbed into his car, pressed the fancy start button and turned the heater on full blast. His windows were tinted, something I clearly remembered from the other night, but still I tried to duck down as low as I could when taking off my top. My bra was soaked too, and I unclipped it and slid it off. I wrapped the huge jacket around me and then sat as close to the heater as possible.

  The heat immediately started doing the trick, and when I was a little less frozen, I suddenly became aware of the smell. His scent clung to the jacket like a fine mist, and the smell was intoxicating. I looked out the window; Ben had already lifted the car up with the jack and was now putting on the tyre and screwing it in place. Handy both in and out of the car, I thought involuntarily biting down on my lip as I watched him bending over.

  My mind went one way, fast. To the deep, dark depths of the filthy gutter. Watching him wielding a spanner was having more of an effect on me than I ever would have imagined—who knew I loved a man with tools? Ben seemed completely unaware that I was currently undressing him with my eyes and imagining him shirtless and sanding a floor, or some such thing that required large motorized tools with decidedly phallic-looking qualities.

  God, I was terrible. I mentally scolded myself for these seriously wanton thoughts. But I just couldn’t help myself when I was around him.

  He finally finished putting on the new tyre and then walked back over to the car, climbing in to the passenger seat and started warming his hands by the heating vent.

  “It’s cold.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously.

  “Yes, sorry to drag you out in this weather.” I suddenly felt bad for asking him to come and rescue me, especially considering he’d been working today and was probably desperate to relax.

  But he shook his head and smiled at me. “It’s my pleasure.”

  “When you break down, I promise to come and rescue you,” I offered.

  His eyes lit up slightly. “Deal. I look forward to being rescued by you then.”

  “Well, don’t go and breakdown on purpose now.” I had sudden images of him sabotaging his car just to drag me out at some ungodly hour.

  He laughed, “I was actually just wondering if that was possible.”

  “Ben!” I shook my head and gave his arm a playful slap, but when I did, my hand decided not to come away from it and landed up staying there. I looked at it, willing it to behave itself, but it didn’t. It gripped his arm a little tighter, and then, to my horror, it started rubbing it. Suddenly, the air and the mood in the car changed. Shifted.

  It was no longer cold. We were no longer parked on the side of the road, the back seat suddenly looked very inviting and all those silly reasons about why I shouldn’t let anything happen with this man melted away into oblivion. My hand started traveling up his arm, to his shoulder and then up to his neck. He inhaled sharply and his whole body stiffened when my finger traced the lines of the tattoo that came out from under his collar and ran up his neck, to the back of his ear.

  I looked up at him, he was looking down at me with dark, almost black eyes, and there was definitely no hiding what he wanted. The thought made me feel powerful, stirring that inner porn star of mine that had come out a few nights ago.

  Don’t give in … stay strong … resist him!

  The tiny voices whispered somewhere in the back of my mind, but the louder voices that were shouting the complete opposite, were inconveniently prevailing. That is, until the sound of my phone ringing squashed them all.

  “Shit!” I said, snapping out of the spell I’d just been under. I reached for my pho
ne, JJ’s number was flashing across my screen. He was probably worried after my message. And I was right. After assuring him repeatedly that I had not been assaulted, kidnapped or had befallen some terrible roadside fate, I hung up.

  The moment between Ben and I had been broken, and suddenly all those rational voices were whispering a little louder again.

  “It’s not really safe on the side of the road. We should probably get back,” I said, and started climbing out the car.

  Ben smiled at me, I could see he was disappointed, but trying to hide it. “Cool, I’ll follow you home,” he said, reaching over to close the door. I was just about to walk back to my car when he called out.

  “Sera, I think you’re forgetting something … again.”

  I turned to find Ben holding my shirt and my bra in his hand. “Unless you’re doing it on purpose now?” His devil smile was back.

  “I am not!” I quickly said and involuntarily grabbed the jacket I was wearing and pulled it tighter across my chest, suddenly very aware that I was completely naked under it. And clearly so was he, his eyes drifted down to the place that my hands were now clutching and I gripped the material even tighter.

  He smiled at me and then raised an eyebrow, “God, you’re fucking gorgeous, Sera.”

  24. A Very Overactive Imagination …

  We both pulled into the underground parking at the same time. I intended to immediately go upstairs, take a shower and get out of Ben’s jacket. I felt like I needed to get away from him. He thought I was gorgeous, and I no longer felt like I was able to resist him, even though I knew I should. And to top all the irresistible sexiness off, he was also genuinely thoughtful and had swooped in like a knight in shining armor to save me from the side of the road. This strange mix of bad boy and nice guy was really doing my brain in, and I needed to put some space between us. But it seemed that the universe had other plans for us. Because as soon as I climbed out of my car, something was thrust into my hands.

  “Thank you. Please take these, since you’re on your way there too. Hurry, hurry, we’re running late.” Suddenly I was holding a large box of biscuits. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on. The caretaker, Raymond, had pulled up next to me and was hurriedly taking bags out of his car.