“David Gandy?”
I nod. “Turns out David Gandy is, in fact, James Holden. My boss. Not just my boss, but everyone’s boss. The fucking boss of all the bosses.”
Tess gasps, and then pisses me the hell off by giggling. “No way!”
“It’s not funny, Tess.”
“Kinda is. I’d say you couldn’t make that shit up, but I think you already did in one of your books.”
She’s right. I have three self-published titles under my belt and in my first novel, Lost and Found, the main characters find themselves in a situation not dissimilar to the one I’m facing right now. The difference, however, is this is real life and James and I aren’t going to drive off into the sunset together. The real life version ends with me dreading going to work every single day because I can’t bear to face my arsehole boss with an ego the size of China.
Tess’ hand appears on my knee and I stack one of mine on top of it. “So you’ve slept with your boss. Big deal. I’m sure you’re not the first.”
“I’m not if the rumours are true.” The thought makes me queasy.
“I meant in general, but whatever. If he’s the CEO you probably won’t have to deal with him anyway. Don’t CEO’s just sit around on their arse, smoking cigars all day, while everyone else does the work?”
I shrug, so many thoughts, scenarios, and emotions running through my head it feels like my brain is about to splatter all over the wall. “He’s persistent.”
“So you’ve already spoken to him again?”
She says again, but today is actually the first time, given the fact the feel of him on my skin last week rendered me completely speechless. “He gave me a lift home. My car’s knackered and I didn’t have another choice seeing as neither you nor Tom would answer your damn phones.” I can’t help scowling at her like it’s all her fault I’ve just had the most uncomfortable car journey of my life.
She pulls her lips into a firm, guilty line, exposing her teeth. “I’ve got this new phone case and it knocks the silent switch every time I take it out to charge. But…you could’ve gotten the bus.”
Yes. Yes I could. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Oh yeah, because I can’t think of fucking anything when James Holden is around.
“So, I’m guessing, by the foul mood you’re in, that he’s a bellend?”
I open my mouth to say the only reasonable answer. Yes. Except it’s not reasonable, so I close it again. “He’s…” Hell, I don’t even know what he is, or why he’s crawled so far under my skin I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get him out. “He’s not actually done anything wrong,” I admit, but it doesn’t stop a sour taste bubbling on the surface of my tongue. “I just hate him.”
“Now, do you really? Or are you just mad at yourself for sleeping with a stranger?”
“No. It’s him,” I spit, refusing to acknowledge the alternative. I’m being petulant and I know it. I am mad with myself. Some people don’t see an issue with casual sex and I don’t judge anyone for living that way, but it’s not for me. At least, it wasn’t before Friday night and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve let myself down.
“Seriously, Theo, I think you just need to pull that stick out of your arse and move the fuck on.” I can always rely on Tess to give it to me straight, and whether it pisses me off or not, I know she’s right. “I bet he’s not wasting his time thinking about it. Probably got his dick in another hole as we speak. You can’t change it, so just forget it instead.”
A part of me that I don’t understand doesn’t want to forget, and for that reason alone I wish I could kick myself in the balls. “You’re right,” I agree, forcing conviction into my voice as I slap my knees. “I’m starving. What d’you fancy?”
“Real chips and egg?” By ‘real’ chips, she means homemade and deep-fried.
I’m already salivating at the thought. “You peel the spuds and I’ll butter the muffins.”
I raise my hand and she gives me a high-five. “Deal.”
**********
This morning, I’m glad that Tess stayed over last night. A Netflix marathon and two bottles of cheap wine were just what I needed to get my stupid boss out of my head. I may have wanked off to the image of him in my mind this morning but I refuse to read too much into that. I wank off to Stephen Amell all the time but I don’t go to sleep worrying about our future together.
I’m drinking coffee when Tess comes barrelling out of the bathroom, pulling on her trainers at the same time.
“Coffee?”
“That cheap shit isn’t worth me being late for,” she says, grabbing her jacket from the floor and swinging it over her shoulder. “I’ve already had a verbal warning.”
Tess isn’t the best timekeeper. Something I’m sure her boss at the sportswear shop doesn’t appreciate.
“Will you be here tonight?” I ask as her hand reaches for the door handle. “I’ll pick up a takeaway on the way home if you are.”
“I’ll text you when I know what Naomi’s plans are. In a bit, little shit.”
“Sure,” I reply, but she’s already gone.
Sliding my finger under the sleeve of my grey jacket, I check the time on my watch and huff. I need to get a move on if I’m going to make it to work on time. Buses are unreliable on a good day. I haven’t been on public transport since I was in college but I imagine it’s still over-crowded and smells like piss and sweat.
I drain my coffee, silently agreeing with Tess that it does indeed taste like shit, and then fix a knot in the silver tie draped loosely around my neck. I’m out the door and jogging down the stairwell, as usual the lift is out of order, just seconds later. Outside, I stop in my tracks, knitting my eyebrows together, sure I’ve just walked past an all too familiar car. I dismiss it, certain I’m going fucking crazy, and carry on walking.