“Oh, for the love of God,” I mutter.
Setting my refrigerated lunch bag down, I cast him a narrowed glare as I make my way around my desk. The water in my purple Librarians Are Cool cup is room temperature, but I take a sip anyway. It’s a futile attempt to redirect my attention away from Lance and the vivid imagery of him with his fist in my hair as he bends me over this desk. This vision will be useful later, but not right now.
His games are frustrating. Listening to him make plans with his bevvy of bimbos is more than annoying, even if I’m conscious they may not be bimbos. It’s possible they’re just sexually satisfied and able to separate love from sex. Good for freaking them. I hate them.
As I watch him lean against the wall and his tongue sneak out between his perfectly straight teeth, I realize: I can’t blame him. At least he owns his philandering. Unlike my good-for-nothing, no-balls-having ex, Eric—Lance owns it. I can respect that.
I wish I could hate him. But how do you hate something that aesthetically pleasing, especially when he dampens his crass with just enough charm to soften you up? You can’t. I can’t, anyway. I can only remind myself to look through the smolder well enough to see the Y-chromosome. That specific chromosome, after all, carries the “master switch” gene, SRY, which decides whether an embryo will be a male or a female. It’s like men are apologizing from the start.
“Eight o’clock. See you then.” With a flourish, he drops his phone into the pockets of his pants. “How are you today, Ms. Malarkey?”
“My office is not a phone booth for your … whatever that was.” My cup hits the desktop with a thud, the chair beneath me squeaking as I relax onto its leather cushion. He leans forward, hands planted on a stack of papers, a grin digging deep against his chiseled cheeks.
There’s nowhere to go, no way to put any distance between us, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that I like it. And he knows it.
“Would you like to know what that was?” he teases.
“No.” Heat radiating from my face like it’s spent a long day in the sun, I stare back in hopes it’ll distract him from my blush.
“I can give you all sorts of details. Bet some of them will make you blush more than you are right now.”
My lips part to respond, to tell him he’s dreaming, but the twinkle in his eye stops me. He’d enjoy calling me out if I were to say anything. It’s happened more times than I care to admit. Instead, I deflect.
One
Lance
Nerdy Nurse: I’m going to have to pull out.
Working the tie around my neck with one hand, I lift the phone with the other. No photo, not even a real name, just a silver-grey profile picture with a bright pink set of lips pressed into a kiss. Why this generic image representing a woman I’ve never met makes me smile, I’ll never know. But, in my thirty-some years of life, I’ve learned not to question every reaction. There’s no fun in that.
My fingers swipe across the screen, the upturn of my lips firmly in place.
Me: Isn’t that my line?
Nerdy Nurse: Very funny. Are you always so … quick?
Me: Only when excellence calls for it.
Nerdy Nurse: Now you’re making me regret this thing that came up.
My fingers stall. Hovering over the keys, I re-read her words.
This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever done. Carrying on this little conversation-ship with Nerdy Nurse isn’t, on the surface, my idea of a good time. I downloaded this dating app to keep from having any words ending in -ship. Yet, our back-and-forth is something I look forward to. Her wit and curiosity, her intelligence, is something that I crave. Even though we make plans to meet nearly every week, one of us will inevitably cancel. I’m okay with that because it means a continuation of this little thing we have going on.
Do I want to meet her? Abso-freaking-lutely. I want to fuck her so hard, so soft, so thoroughly that she’s ruined for anyone else. Until then, I’m good with this messaging thing. Strangely.
Adjusting my cock inside my khaki’s, I grab my briefcase and head into the kitchen. The coffee pot has one last cup left in the bottom and I pour it into a travel mug before flipping off the switch.