* * *
I'm still fuming about the run-in with Tristan when I wake up the next morning. I frown and curse my way through the morning, unable to stop his cocky words from replaying in my mind as I get ready for work.
So much for acting like nothing happened.
I should've known he wouldn't be able to let it go. He's too arrogant for his own good, and as much as I want to pretend our sex wasn't hot as fuck, there's no denying for either of us that it was.
I wonder briefly if the sex is that good with every girl he sleeps with. Does he give all of them the best sex of their lives? Was Saturday even good for him?
I scowl at the direction of my thoughts and go back to styling my hair. Thinking of how I compare to the many women that have been in Tristan's bed is definitely not a productive use of brain power. Plus, it's sex—guys love sex regardless. And it was obviously good enough for him to think about during the following days, or he wouldn't have admitted to it. Well, that and the fact that he can't wait to do it again.
Which will definitelynotbe happening.
Nothing good can come of us having sex again—no matter how mind-bendingly good it was. My Sunday morning thoughts were only solidified by our encounter last night. Plus, watching him pine for something might actually be fun. If I can limit our interactions at the house and stay more than five feet away from him at all times, then I should be able to withstand his stupid fuck-me presence.
With that firm conviction ringing in my mind, I finish my morning routine and head to work, determined to put Tristan out of my mind and focus all my energy on the job that I'm lucky to have.
By the time lunch rolls around, I don't feel quite so lucky.
It's not often that I have days where I hate my job, but today is one of them. Most days I can coast by with minimal bad interactions, headphones in and typing away at whatever it is I need to research or write.
But today, it seems like someone has spiked the coffee with asshole juice. Everyone is ornery. I overhear more than one snappy exchange in the cubicles around me, as well as heated conversations loud enough to be heard through the conference room walls. It's not long before I'm on the receiving end of some of it myself.
Paul, the engineer that loves to not-so-subtly check out my legs, appears at my cubicle before I've even finished my first cup of coffee to grumble about some edits I made to his datasheet. Not long after he's gone, Cassandra appears in a whirlwind of high heels and too-strong perfume, demanding to know why her sales playbook isn't done yet.
I politely remind her that she only gave it to me on Friday, and that it's a twenty-two-page document that needs some serious touch-ups. Hardly a two-day turnaround time.
She glares at me before exiting with a huff.
I sigh and lean forward to hold my head in my hands, gently rubbing my temples. I can already feel the headache building.
"Long day?" I hear from beside me. I turn to see my coworker from the cubicle next to me peeking around our wall. A hint of a smile is tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Something like that," I mutter as I lean back in my chair. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, debating asking my next question.
"What did you want to be when you were a kid?" I finally ask.
I can practically sense his wide-eyed surprise. My question is not one that's ever been included in typical workplace small talk.
"Umm, I think a fireman."
"And when you were in high school, getting ready to go to college?"
He frowns in concentration. He thinks about the question for a few seconds before answering honestly, "I wanted to create a non-profit for kids with trauma that need emotional support animals."
My eyes widen as I turn my attention fully to him. "Really?"
He swallows and nods, but doesn't go into more detail.
"Did you ever go into it? Or do you still want to?"
He nods again. "I obviously didn't have the means to do anything about it when I was in high school, so the plan was to go to college for business and then maybe figure something out. Then a job fell in my lap that I couldn't pass up and it just spiraled from there. I've been in tech ever since." He sighs and turns to stare off at some unseen target. "I always say I'll do it at some point. It's just… this job is too good and too hard to walk away from, you know?"
I wince but nod in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I think about the same thing sometimes." Then, in an effort to lighten the suddenly tense mood, I say, "Then again, some days Cassandra makes the idea incredibly appealing."
He lets out a relieved laugh. "Very true."
I grin at the only coworker that I don’t hate. But before turning back to my computer, I pause, wanting to admit one last truth before we're shoved back into the daily grind of Corporate America.