No shit.
I am freaking out about a man who seems to have some immeasurable and unexplainable interest in me. I feel like I am caught in a web.
Most of my waking moments are spent thinking about Graham and the effect he has on my body. He is breaking down my defenses—one by one. Soon, I will be lying on my back in a king-sized bed, giving up my virginity, and then waking up the next day with nothing but a memory—and the feeling of defeat and loss all over again. Because either he will leave or I will. Men who have everything are usually quick to search for the next best thing. I do not want to be his girl on the side while he continues getting closer to Sophia.
I am a challenge. One that when met, the obsession will end. Should I just submit and get it over with? From that point of view, that seems to be the most logical thing to do. Can I do that to my body? Put out just to get out? Can I be a hit-it and quit-it type of lay? I suppose the crazy amount of money serves as a good pillow to lessen the pain.
“Here. Drink this.”
I take the glass container of water and twist through the safety seal to open the lid. “Thank you,” I mutter, taking a sip. It is going to take more than water to make my worries go away. I lift up from the chair, signaling that I am ready to talk with HR.
I follow Dominic out of his office and down the hallway until we are at the office of Human Resources. Once inside, I talk with the assistant director and retell my story. More notes are taken—followed by nods and small smiles. The more I tell my side out loud, the sillier it sounds. I am complaining over the extreme amount of money and the fact that I have job security for the duration of my short-term contract. Of course, to the average human, this sounds like a dream come true. Maybe Dominic is right. This meeting might not do any good for fighting my point and giving my perspective. In the end, Graham might just have succeeded in pushing me into a corner and twisting my arm. Damn him.
“So, this Friday at ten o’clock works for you, Miss McFee?”
“Yes, that works fine for me.” No class on Fridays so I am free all day.
Dominic walks me out and toward the elevator. “You have my cell number if you ever need me to intervene. Please do not hesitate to call me.”
“Thanks, Dominic. I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to meet with me today.”
“Anytime.”
* * *
When I get back to the car, I turn my cell phone back on and find that I have a missed call from Graham. What does he want? I listen to his simple “I miss you” statement and groan at the effect his voice alone has on my body. I am screwed. My messages filter in after the power is on for a few minutes. I am then able to read the text that he sent.
Graham: If you wanted a date on Friday, you could have just called. Beating around the “bush” is the fun part of MY job. And yours is very pretty. ;)
A winky face? And a sexual innuendo? He’s too much! Ahhh…I resist the urge to type back something sarcastic or insulting. He can wait to hear from me on Friday. I will not give him what he wants.
I open another text, this one from Zander, and read the message.
Zander: Thinking about you…hope you are okay. Please let me know.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and pull out of the parking spot in the garage. I pull up to the local health clinic before I have the chance to change my mind and chicken out. Once inside, I use the kiosk to select the service I want and choose the option for a “walk-in” visit. I enter in my personal information and then wait to be called back.
I check my email and answer a fewBad Advicequestions while I wait the twenty minutes until it is my turn.
“Angela McFee,” the nurse announces.
I grab my phone and follow her back into a private room where a staff member is typing in a few notes on her computer.
“Hi, I’m a nurse practitioner specializing in rehabilitative therapies.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, taking a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.
“What brings you here?”
“I was in a car accident a few years ago and received physical therapy on my leg and shoulder. However, the pain from my injuries is returning, and I am in enough discomfort where I would like a prescription filled to help me cope.”
She types notes on her computer, accesses my health file that I uploaded on the kiosk, and wheels her chair over to me to examine the range of motion for my shoulder and leg.
“I can prescribe you a series of exercises and a physical therapist who can either come to your house or you can meet for therapy in their office.”
I frown at her recommendation. “I’ve done all of that before. I just need some pain meds to get me through the next couple of weeks so I can even be able to go back to stretching. Right now, I’m in agony.”
“I am sorry, Miss McFee. You’re not a candidate.”