Troublesome Roommate

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Troublesome Roommate Page 6

by Chloe Grey


  Chapter 12

  We drove in silence, and despite telling myself to relax, I couldn’t, hypersensitive to the man beside me.

  Why was I so uncomfortable with him? Maybe it was the fact that he saw my bare legs or that I knew he liked me. Or maybe it was because there was no damn music playing. I wasn’t daring enough to reach out and turn the radio on.

  Midway to work, we got stuck in traffic.

  “How’s work so far?” Mr. Asshole two asked.

  “It’s only my third day,” I said. “But so far, so good. Everyone is nice, especially Sam.”

  “Yeah, she’s awesome. Very helpful.”

  I wondered if he knew of her huge crush on him—of everyone’s huge crush on him. I mean, she wasn’t hiding it, and the ladies who passed by would look into his office and giggle. He would be blind not to notice.

  The traffic started moving, but our car wasn’t. Honks started blaring behind us and my boss snapped back to attention.

  He pressed the gas. We drove for a moment, and then my ears pricked up from hearing my name from his lips.

  “Audrey.”

  He said the word all low and seductive and shit again.

  My heart raced. The butterflies began to appear in my stomach.

  “Yes?” I tried my hardest to focus on the road in front of me and not him.

  He coughed into his fist. “Nevermind.”

  After what felt like an hour, we arrived at work. Mr. Asshole two wasn’t lying, he did have his own parking space. The windows of the car were tinted, so I had the luxury of looking all around us. They weren’t many people, and I didn’t recognize any faces.

  I got out of the car and turned to my boss. “I’ll just, uh, I’ll go ahead first.”

  He nodded. “I’ll wait here for a minute.”

  Briskly, I walked towards the building, turning the corner and increasing my pace as I pushed past the crowd, beelining towards the front entrance. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck on the elevator with him.

  And these damn high heels. Who the hell invented these monstrosities, anyway? I swear there were used as torture devices long ago.

  I cleared security, and a gentleman kindly held the elevator for me as I rushed toward it. I thanked him and squeezed past the suits I was sharing the car with, managing enough space to fix my hair from the mirrors around us.

  Sam smiled and greeted me when I reached the office.

  “Hey, Audrey,”

  “Hey, Sam,” I said, a little bit out of breath. Man, I needed to start upping my cardio game in the gym. I had been slacking off.

  Sam and I chatted as we headed toward my desk. Just like yesterday, she would supervise me for the first couple of hours.

  She told me about the recent Marvel blockbuster, Avengers: Endgame, as we took our seats. I warned her not to spoil it for me as I hadn’t had the opportunity to see it yet. All the movie theatres were booked for the next two weeks.

  As she gushed about how great the movie was, our boss arrived. Sam immediately stood up to greet him. I stood up too because it would be awkward if I was the only one sitting.

  This time, he acknowledged her, but only for a split second before his gaze moved to me.

  “Morning, Audrey,” he said. “You’re a little early today.”

  I frowned at him.

  His mouth twitched. “Did you have a good breakfast?”

  “Not really,” I replied. “The bacon was a little overcooked.”

  It wasn’t, but I wanted to throw some heat back.

  “I had a good breakfast,” Sam cut in. “I went to a place called Cherries and had some wonderful hazelnut pancakes.”

  “Sounds good,” Mr. Asshole two said, his gaze not leaving mine. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked into his office.

  “What’s with you and him?” Sam asked me as she sat back down. “He keeps looking at you.”

  I shrugged.

  “Hmm,” my co-worker said. I was trying to focus on my screen and not look at her. “Anyway, he smells so good, doesn’t he? Just like pineapples. I want to lick him right up.”

  “I have to hand him his schedule, right?” I said, changing the subject and holding out the schedule sheet I had printed out on Saturday.

  “Yep. You should do it now.”

  “Can I send it to him via email?”

  “Email?” She frowned. “Why would you do that? Walk in his office and hand it to him.” She studied me for a second before she broke into a huge grin. “Ah, I get it.” When I looked at her, she continued. “Sometimes I get nervous too, walking in there. My heart would go boom, boom, boom. Mr. H can be very intimidating, but you’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m not intimidated,” I muttered.

  “Objection,” she laughed. “You turn bright red when he talks to you.”

  “I do not!”

  AFTER MENTALLY COUNTING to ten, and doing it again, and again, I worked up the courage to walk into our boss’s office. Sam squeezed my arm for good luck.

  I closed the door and the see-through glass around us became opaque. The last thing I saw outside was Sam’s questioning look.

  “Here.” I faced him and walked up to his desk, but he stood up and walked toward me first.

  He took the schedule, and, without glancing at it, set it behind him on his desk.

  “Overcooked bacon?”

  “It was,” I lied, feeling my heart going boom, boom, boom just like Sam had said.

  He did the whole keeping-quiet-and-just-staring-at-me thing again.

  “If there is nothing else, Mr. A,” I said, tearing myself away from his eyes but landing on his lips, “then I will get back to work.”

  His lips opened. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Can you please stop calling me that? It bugs me.”

  “You made fun of my name.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry about making fun of your name. Just stop calling me that. Hell, I will even allow you to call me,” he sighed, “Mr. H.”

  “I’m not calling you Mr. H.”

  “Kevin then. Anything but that.”

  Before I could reply, there was a knock at the door.

  It was Sam. “Sir, your eight o’clock is here.”

  “Eight o’clock?” he mumbled, turning to pick up his schedule.

  When he turned back around, my hand was already at the door handle. I smiled at him. “Good luck with your meeting, Mr. A.”

  “What did he say in there?” Sam asked me when we were seated again.

  “Nothing much.” I had already prepared my answer. “He asked me how I was coping and if I needed anything.”

  “Okay,” she replied, nodding. “But why did he frost the glass?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t think about that.

  The morning consisted of me making and receiving phone calls, sending out invoices, and greeting and seating clients that came to meet my boss. It was hectic, but I was getting used to it. Mr. Asshole two had meetings until two in the afternoon, and again starting at three for another hour and a half.

  “Have a nice day,” I said, smiling to the clients of the two o’clock meeting. That was the other thing. I was expected to smile a lot. My cheeks were beginning to hurt.

  Finally, I thought, as I sorted out some papers. I can have a late lunch. Sam had already left me solo long ago.

  Just as I was about to leave, I heard the buzzer ring, crushing my hopes and dreams.

  I walked into his office, praying he wouldn’t assign me a tedious task.

  Mr. Asshole two was typing on his laptop.

  “Get me lunch for two,” he said, not looking up.

  My stomach growled. “Anything specific you want?”

  “Fish and chips. Make it quick. I have work to do and meetings again soon.”

  He didn’t catch my scowl as I retreated.

  Chapter 13

  I got the fish and chips in record time. Luckily there was a restaurant that sold
fish and chips nearby. I called them, ran all the way there, used the company’s card to pay, and ran all the way back. By the time I returned to the office, I was sweaty, my ankles were burning from the damn high heels, and I felt like I had participated in a marathon.

  “I definitely need to up my cardio game,” I muttered, entering Mr. Asshole two’s office. I made sure to close the door behind me. “Here are the fish and chips.” I dumped the takeout on his desk. “Can I go have my lunch now?”

  “Of course.” He looked up. “Sit.”

  He pressed a button, and nobody could see us again.

  My eyes went wide. “This is for me?”

  “Yes. Don’t you like fish and chips?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He gestured to the chairs in front of him. “Sit.”

  I sat. He took out one of the takeout boxes from the bag, and I took out the other.

  “I can eat in the dining area,” I mumbled as I ate a chunk of deep-fried fish. It wasn’t as good as the place Zane and I went. “Didn't you say you had a lot of work to do?”

  “Eat your food.”

  He was ignoring me again. It was as if he was a completely different person in and out of the office.

  I could feel the weight of his gaze as I lifted a fry to my lips.

  “Is it good?” he asked me.

  “It’s alright.”

  “If you want some chips, you can have some of mine. I’m not that hungry.”

  He still hadn’t touched his food. I ate in silence for a while.

  “You’re doing a great job, by the way,” he told me, breaking the awkwardness. “You’re much better than the previous girl.”

  That piqued my curiosity. “Why did you fire her?”

  “She decided spending time on her phone was much more important than doing her work. I had to do everything. And the one before her left because her husband got promoted, so she could afford to be a stay-at-home mom.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?” I glanced at his untouched food and wondered how he got so muscular if he didn’t eat. I was halfway done with mine.

  “No.” He paused. “Are you going to dinner with Zane later?”

  “Yeah. Why? You want to join us?”

  “Are you interested in the new Marvel movie?”

  “Yes, but all the movie theatres are booked for the next two weeks.”

  He leaned forward. “Let’s go to the movies after dinner. I have two tickets for tonight.”

  A date. He was asking me on a date.

  Shit.

  I had to turn him down. But then again... free dinner, free movie tickets, not having to try and dodge spoilers online for two whole weeks, and going on a date with a guy I was hard crushing on...

  It was tempting. Very tempting.

  But it always starts out with a date. Then more dates. Then sooner or later came the one-sided falling in love bit. Then the arguments, then the fights, then the breakup, then the alcohol.

  But I really wanted to watch the movie.

  “Audrey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re turning me down.”

  “It would be a first for you, wouldn’t it?”

  “Do you have something else planned after dinner?”

  “No,” I said. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “It’s just...”

  He settled back in his chair. “It’s fine. I’ll go alone.”

  I started to feel guilty. “Maybe you could take Sam or somebody.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Okay.”

  I LOOKED UP WHEN MY boss exhaled air from his nostrils for the third time in five minutes. We had finished our food ten minutes ago, but he hadn’t dismissed me yet. Whenever I started to get up from my seat, he would ask me something, so I would sit back down and answer, then fidget in my chair once silence ensued.

  “Which part are you reading right now?” I asked him, already knowing the answer to that.

  He smiled, and I bit my bottom lip in awe of the rare sight. He should really smile more. I don’t know why he doesn’t. He could make panties disintegrate with a gorgeous smile like that.

  “What’s with you and blowjobs, Audrey?” he asked me instead of answering my question. “There are like four different scenes with oral sex in the book. One in the hospital storage room, one in the hospital toilet, one in Zac’s house, and the other one in,” he snickered, “the storage room again. And I’m not even done with the book.”

  My cheeks turned crimson. “I thought it would be hot.” I tried to remember what I wrote. My hero, Zac, was a surgeon, and he had met the heroine, Jasmine, as a newly hired nurse. “It worked out because that’s the book that has performed the best out of all my books.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he said, still engrossed with his iPad. “It’s pretty hot. But the shirt and panties tearing thing is a bit too unrealistic, don’t you think?”

  “You never experienced that?” I asked him, secretly curious.

  He chuckled. “God, no.” Then he looked at me. “You?”

  “Nope,” I lied and cringed a little when the word came out way too high-pitched.

  He studied me for a few more seconds before reading again. I wanted to leave. Right now. Before I made a fool out of myself again.

  “Why aren’t you doing this full-time?” he asked me, bringing me back to reality. “Are sales not going well?”

  Here began the tough-to-answer questions. Gah, I hated them.

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping my one-word answer would hint that I didn’t want to pursue the subject.

  “I wonder why. You write really well. Your books are good.”

  “You think so?” I sat up in my chair. “Thanks. But the market is tough. Romance is the top genre in fiction, always has been, so competition is fierce. My books would often get published, and then go unnoticed in the store because it’s that packed.”

  “Are you working on a book right now?”

  “Not really,” I replied. “I’m starting soon. But I’m so busy with work right now, so progress is slow.”

  He swirled his chair around, giving me his back. I immediately recognized that I was being dismissed.

  “You can go back to work now. I have a couple more meetings and then I’ll drive us back home.”

  Oh, yeah. He had driven me to work. My insides tightened at having to deal with being alone with him in the car again—without music.

  God help me.

  “MR. BOND WILL SEE YOU in a moment,” I told the client, a middle-aged man with a mustache he should really trim. I forced a smile even though my cheeks hurt and my ankles burned. “Please have a seat.”

  He nodded, and took a seat. A minute later, the buzzer sounded, and I told the client he could enter.

  I watched as the two men met halfway inside the office and shook hands. The client didn’t close the door, and I could tell my boss was annoyed—his smile was a little strained. After a little bit of small talk, he looked past the client to me and signaled me with his eyes to close the door.

  I did that and returned to my seat. The workload was slowing down, so I had the luxury of watching the meeting.

  Even though the client had a good twenty years on my boss, Mr. Asshole two looked much more relaxed and in control of the meeting. I was not going to lie. It was pretty hot.

  My phone vibrated on my desk. Picking it up, I read the message from Zane.

  Zane: Not having dinner today. Going on a date with Jason instead, then Monopoly at his place later. Take care <3

  I replied with a laughing emoji and put my phone away. I remembered Jason. He was Zane’s boyfriend four years back, and he was a decent guy from my interactions with him. He even paid for our fish and chips when we had dinner together that day. If I recalled correctly, Jason was an accountant. He and Zane broke up because Jason had to move to another state for a job offer he couldn’t refuse, and he didn’t like the idea of a long-distance relationship. It was the only mutual breakup among Zane’
s many exes— he probably had three times the number of mine.

  I was glad my best friend was dating again and with a guy I knew he would get along with. Every time Zane talked about him, he would unintentionally smile, and he seemed much happier these past few days.

  Even though I felt happy for my friend, I felt a twinge of sadness for me. Accepting the fact that I would never find love in my life was not only tough, but very depressing.

  I looked at Mr. Asshole two again. He was showing the client something on his laptop screen. He seemed like the perfect man for any woman, not like the asshole I thought he was from my first impression of him. Wealthy and good-looking with a panty disintegrating smile. He could be nice and sympathetic too—on some occasions.

  Could he be Mr. Perfect like Zane said? Was I overreacting and ruining my chances of having a future—a family I desired so much—by being afraid? Was I being unfair for not giving him a chance?

  Should I?

  I could go on the date with him to size him up. Then I could decide whether I wanted to commit to more dates. Probably not—because my expectations of a man for me were so unrealistically high, I knew even he wouldn’t be able to fit my own exaggerated criteria. But one date wouldn’t hurt.

  The meeting was ending soon. Both men stood up and shook each other’s hands. My boss strode past him to open the door. The client thanked him, they shook hands again, and he left, walking past me with a smile. I returned the smile and bid him a good day.

  “Mr. A,” I called out to him before he could close the door.

  The words kept repeating in my mind. One date wouldn’t hurt. One date wouldn’t hurt. One date wouldn’t hurt.

  “Yes, Hemlock?” he said, looking at me and frowning.

  I scanned our surroundings before continuing. No one would hear us.

  “Zane and I aren’t having dinner tonight.” I paused, then said the words that would seal my fate. “Still up for tonight?”

  The smile that lit up his face made my heart flutter. “Do you have a dress?”

  One date wouldn’t hurt.

  Chapter 14

 

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