by Lindsey Hart
CHAPTER 5
John
I catch a stroke of luck the next morning and find Cassie in the lunchroom. She’s standing there watching the coffee maker, and I gather that it’s still brewing. The little kitchen area smells wonderful. There isn’t anything like fresh coffee in the morning.
“It certainly smells better in here right now than it did in the whole office yesterday.”
Cassie whirls. Her face instantly transforms into a mask of anger. Two red spots appear on her cheeks, but she’s probably more pissed off than she is embarrassed. My joke falls completely flat.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Make conversation?”
Cassie is beautiful in every color, but the simple, streamlined red dress she has on today sets off the waterfall of her dark hair. I now know she also looks beautiful in every circumstance, including acting as the office’s plumber. She was striking, even with poop matter stuck to her face.
“Yeah.” I jam my hands into my pockets. “I wanted to tell you yesterday, right before you slammed the door shut in my face and locked it, that I was impressed. I don’t know a single other person who would have gone in there. You took one for the team.”
“I didn’t take one for anything! My mom and Bill are so worried that if they get anyone around here to do anything, they’ll be so traumatized they’ll end up needing endless therapy, or they’ll sue for employee abuse or something. They didn’t have the stomach for it either, so who else was going to do it?”
“The plumber that came this morning said you did an excellent job. Maybe you should consider a career change.”
“Consider…” Cassie catches herself and sniffs. I can tell she’s biting on the inside of her cheek, probably to keep herself from telling me that the only thing she’s considering is what an asswipe I am. The red spots on her cheeks don’t fade away.
“You looked good yesterday. It takes a special talent to look good with crap plastered all over your face.” I shouldn’t egg her on, but I can’t help it.
“We will not talk about that again!” Cassie glances around like the whole office just heard that, even though I kept my voice low.
“I think we should come up with a term for it then. A code word.”
Her lips thin out, and she watches me like I’m the lowest of the low scum, somewhere below moldy toilet pickles. “You’re horrible.”
“I have the perfect name. The Pooptastrophe. No one will ever figure out what that means.”
“Please,” Cassie snorts. She has to slap a hand over her mouth, though, to stop herself from laughing.
Not only is this woman a plunging hero, I think that under other circumstances—if she didn’t dislike me for replacing her brother—she’d have a sense of humor. I heard that after she slammed the door on me and cleared the toilet, she went and got the mop and bleach and cleaned up the entire bathroom on her own. She disappeared for a while, but she was back a short while later in a new set of clothes, obviously after a shower, working at her desk like she wasn’t the whole building’s hero.
The coffee maker stops dripping, and the pot is full below. I know I’m pushing it just by being here. I don’t really understand why I’m pushing it, except I can’t help myself. It could be due to the fact that I’m concerned about my balls. They’re cutting off the circulation to the rest of my body by being so completely swollen from disuse that my brain has ceased its proper function. I feel like I’m a horny teenager again, thinking like a caveman with my club. My south of the border club.
Cassie doesn’t move. She glances at the coffee pot and eyes me warily like I might be plotting revenge for the coffee explosion on my first day.
I then decide to test my theory about Cassie having a sense of humor. “Would you like me to pour you a mug? I think we could avert another disaster if you let me do it.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring myself a cup of coffee.”
“That might be true, but I have to grab a mug anyway. I’ll get you one.” I take a step forward, and since she stands her ground, I brush right past her as I open the cupboard with the mugs. She stiffens, going rigid at my side. Her hair is only a few inches from my face, and I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to her like a fatalistic moth to an incinerating flame. I lean in just a little further, reaching for a mug on the back part of the shelf, and inhale deeply.
I’m not very good at picking out independent aromas. I just know Cassie smells good. Really good. So good that my manly area siphons a little more blood from the rest of my body. I angle away quickly before my man stick can make itself known by poking Cassie in the hip.
I can just imagine the email that would go out if my dick had touched her in any way. There would probably be a refresher on the company’s sexual harassment policy slapped on my desk in two point five seconds, and maybe even a lawsuit to follow up. Her parents would also end up firing me.
I don’t want to be gross. I don’t want to be creepy. I don’t want my happy stick to touch Cassie. And springing a hard-on just from smelling her hair wasn’t exactly a part of my plan.
Then again, neither was Cassie’s reaction. I know she didn’t get grazed by any of my appendages, but she turns towards me. Her mouth parts like she’s going to say something, but no words come out. Instead, her delicious coral lips stay silently parted. Her gorgeous, deep brown eyes flutter shut, and the fringe of her dark lashes rests against her creamy cheek.
Holy shit. She wants me to kiss her.
It’s the one thought my brain gets out. There must have been just enough blood left up there to form it. “Uh—what’s…going on?”
Her eyes snap open. “I was…” She’s so close to me I can smell the fresh mint of her breath. My heart hammers out a wild beat that I’m sure the entire office can hear.
“You were—”
“Waiting for you to give me a mug,” she snaps.
She plucks the green mug with a picture of a googly-eyed fish out of my hand and turns so hard that her hair whips against me. It catches me in the face, chest, and hands. It’s so soft, like a curtain of silk. Her feminine fragrance washes over me again. My dick is so hard it could probably be used to pound spikes into concrete. Her sleek, long, and lustrous hair touching my body is probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m thirty-five. I guess that says a lot about me.
Then again, nothing about Cassie is like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s her own person. A one-off.
Why didn’t I kiss her when I had the chance? Right. Because she probably would have punched me in the eye, kneed me in the nuts, grabbed the coffee pot, and doused my crotch region with steaming hot java just like she threatened. She was not giving me kiss signals. She couldn’t have been giving me kiss signals. Just because my body was going off like a fucking metal detector over a pile of rusty nails didn’t mean she wanted to be kissed. Even if she did, I couldn’t take the chance that I wouldn’t misread the situation. That would be disastrous. We work together. We have to work together for the next eleven months and two weeks, and maybe beyond that. Even if she did want to be kissed, there’s room in that eleven months and two weeks for things to go south.
And for most relationships, shit always goes south. It doesn’t matter if it takes a month, a year, or five years. In my experience, shit doesn’t work out, and it’s enough of a reason to stay away.
Cassie carefully pours her coffee and sets her mug on the counter while she goes to the fridge to get the cream. She pours it steadily, then gives me a knowing look.
“There. I poured my coffee without spilling a drop. Are you satisfied?”
Not even close. “I just wanted to help.”
A smirk turns up her lips, and damn, it’s good to see her go back to smiling, even if it is at my expense. “Great. I’ll share that with Betty and Bill. Next time we have a toilet disaster, a pooptastrophe, or whatever you called it, I’ll be sure to get them to ask you to he
lp instead of me.”
“Great,” I force out. “I’d be happy to.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, picks up her coffee, and leaves the cream on the counter. I don’t know if she thinks I want to use it and she’s just being nice, or if she wants me to have to put it away after her.
“You know,” she turns just shy of rounding the corner. Her eyes sparkle with humor, and I know she’s not nearly done with me yet. “Did you know you’re actually named after a toilet, John?”
“Very original,” I mutter, moving off to pour my own mug of coffee. “I haven’t heard that before. My name’s actually Johnathan, so I’m not sure it counts.”
“Oh, it counts.” She walks off, still smirking.
I’m alone in the kitchen, but Cassie’s scent and the sound of her voice stay with me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s clearly attracted to me. People generally treat the people they’re most interested in the worst where attraction is involved. It’s elementary psychology. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. If it is, it’s my spike-driving dick and purple-hued balls producing said thoughts and wishes.
I force myself to concentrate on the coffee just before I overflow my mug. Even if Cassie isn’t watching, I’ll never live that one down.
CHAPTER 6
Cassie
I wander my house aimlessly after work. It’s already clean since that’s what I’ve been doing to fill my free time when I’m not at work lately. There is literally nothing else left to do. I feel restless, but I don’t feel like going out shopping, and I’ve already made myself a tuna sandwich with pickles for dinner. Yes, I know. Pickles. The pooptastrophe didn’t ruin me on them. Nothing could ruin pickles for me. I love pickles. All pickles. Spicy, sweet, sour—they’re all great. I do draw the line at toilet pickles, though. Those I did not love.
The house is lonely and silent. Even though I think it’s great that my best friends are happy and have moved on and are living their lives, I miss them like crazy. I would give my left nut—if I had nuts, that is—to be able to have one of our girl’s nights. We used to hang out and talk about absolutely everything. Whatever was on our minds. We’d usually laugh until our stomachs hurt. Aria would say all kinds of inappropriate things, Rin would pretend to be offended, and I’d be the voice of reason.
I haven’t been able to do that in a while. Aria and I did go visit Rin in Denver before Aria went south with Lucas, but it’s already been almost two months since I saw either of them.
I wander through my place until I reach the bedroom. With a sigh, I flop down on my bed. My house is very quiet. Too quiet. I’ve been joking for a while about adopting a cat. Maybe I should. Or at least a fish or something. A house plant? I don’t even have any of those.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and turn it over in my hands while I stare up vacantly at the ceiling. It’s late. Just after ten. I’m not sure what time it is where Aria and Lucas are. They’re likely working hard. Maybe she’s not even awake. Rin is probably busy, too, with her fiancé, Aiden. As in, she’s in bed, but not sleeping.
I lay there until I just can’t lay anymore. I start a group text by firing one off to get it started.
CASSIE: Is anyone awake?
Not even a second later, my phone pings, and I can see the little dots forming on the screen under Rin’s text. I breathe a little sigh of relief. There’s life out there after all.
RIN: Of course, I’m awake. I’m not a complete granny yet.
ARIA: What’s up, bish? Are you finally ready to go to that waxing place? (happy face emoji laughing tears all over the place, emoji face with hearts for eyes)
RIN: Only you would start off a conversation like that.
CASSIE: Actually…I did get waxed. At that place that you used to go to. I remembered what the name of it was.
ARIA: Holy flying fuck!!! You got your va-jay-jay waxed!!!!! (drooling emoji) I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! But you must have gotten it done for a reason. Do tell…
ARIA: ??????
ARIA: The suspense is literally killing me. (skull emoji)
RIN: You don’t have to tell us anything. Seriously. You can get waxed if you want. I’m glad you did something just for you. Self-love is really important. (heart emoji)
Aria just puts in a string of laughing emojis, like she doesn’t buy that for a second. I let out a shuddering sigh while my annoyance rises. I remind myself that I started this. I wanted to talk to my besties like they were here. I seriously miss them. Annnnnd, I kind of need some advice.
ARIA: LET ME GUESS. YOU WANT TO PORK THE NEW GUY AT WORK.
RIN: That’s a little much, even for you, Aria.
ARIA: What do you mean for me? I’m not the one who wants to PORK the guy who took over my stepbrother’s spot. Ewww, by the way. (Puking emoji, green-faced emoji, puking emoji).
Okay, this has gone on long enough. As usual, I haven’t been able to get a word in between Aria and Rin. Apparently, it doesn’t matter that we’re texting. They always were the louder ones, and most of the time, I just found it kind of funny to sit back, watch, and listen.
RIN: CASSIE? Are you still there?
ARIA: Of course, she’s still there. You’re reading all of this, probably sweating it out, probably annoyed, and a whole lot relieved because you didn’t even have to figure out how to put all of this out there for us.
She’s right. My friends know me better than anyone in the world, even my own mom. Rin and Aria are the sisters from different misters that I never had. They hung out at my place a lot, especially Aria. Their parents are all super rich, but also super dysfunctional. I was the only one with something close to a normal home life. When we were at boarding school, which we went to for six years, we were always together.
CASSIE: I’m still here. You’re right. But I didn’t pork anyone! Who came up with that saying anyway? Why pork and not chicken or beef?
ARIA: (Chicken emoji, cow emoji, pig emoji, pig emoji, pig emoji) I’m going to pretend I didn’t just read that.
RIN: Are you seriously seeing someone? Or considering it??? You need to tell us!!
CASSIE: It’s just at the considering point right now. I don’t know. We work together. I think it’s a bad idea.
ARIA: IT’S NEVER A BAD IDEA FOR YOU! DON’T DIE A VIRGIN!
CASSIE: (emoji with steam coming out of its nose) I’M NOT A VIRGIN!!!!!
RIN: That was just mean. Just because she’s inexperienced doesn’t mean she’s a virgin.
CASSIE: I’m not inexperienced!
ARIA: She’s just choosey. I guess that’s not the same.
ARIA: You need to get laid by something other than your hand. Oh, and toys don’t count. I guess I should have said, SOMEONE.
I let out a huff and nearly throw my phone back down onto the bed, but at the same time, Rin and Aria are bugging me like sisters would, exactly the same way they would if they were here, and I really, really need this.
CASSIE: It’s a bad idea. I haven’t done anything because I don’t think I should. We do work together. He did take Lucas’s spot. He’s…he’s insanely hot. It’s not fair to be that hot. I can’t help it. He’s all I can think about.
ARIA: Which parts exactly?
CASSIE: You are truly terrible, you know that?!
RIN: Well, which parts???
I decide it’s best if I just ignore that.
CASSIE: I’m probably not going to do anything. It’s not appropriate. We work together. My mom and Bill would be so pissed if they found out.
ARIA: Well, then make sure they don’t find out.
CASSIE: They’re going to find out if something happens!
ARIA: Well, you could just bang him. They wouldn’t have to find out about that. They’re only going to find out if you guys have a relationship, and who wants one of those?
ARIA: I’m kidding, by the way. I love Lucas. A LOT!!! Relationships are great. When they’re with the right person. The real right person. Like, the best person on the whole earth. Sorry to sa
y, he’s already taken. I’m not sure about the rest of the male population, but I’m pretty sure they’re 99.9999999999% assholes and not fit for relationship material.
RIN: Hey! I hope you’re not including Aiden in that.
ARIA: Nope. He’s in the very small margin of non-dicks.
ARIA: So…how hot is this guy? Because he can’t be hotter than Lucas, but I want a scale here.
CASSIE: Gross. You do remember that Lucas is my stepbrother, right?
RIN: Thank god you’re not related. Aria is way too inappropriate for that not to be hella-awkward at all times. Can anyone say incest?
CASSIE: For the love of god! STOP!
ARIA: I’m not inappropriate!!!!
RIN: Whatever.
ARIA: Whatever is right. You and Aiden probably boink on the couch that we have to sit on when we come to visit.
I throw my phone down on the bed, slap both my hands over my eyes, and laugh so hard that tears pool in my eyes. My abs hurt from all that laughter, and god, it feels soooo good. When I’m finished with my laughing spell, I pick up my phone and read through the texts I missed.
RIN: We don’t!
ARIA: Come on. Be honest with us here. I know you do.
RIN: How could you know? Did you install secret cameras in the house the last time you were here?
ARIA: No. It’s just something I would do because I find it not so secretly amusing.
RIN: You truly disgust and horrify me. Your picture should be next to the word villain in the dictionary.
ARIA: You love me. (heart emoji) (Poop with hearts for eyes emoji)
RIN: Even if we did, I’d clean it, just saying.
ARIA: I knew it! (poop emoji)
RIN: What the heck is that for?