“What?” she gasps as she puts her hand over her mouth in horror.


    “I know. So, I leave, star follows me, then I lose my shit.”


    “Understandably.”


    “And we have this huge yelling match in the street which makes him go all weird, and he turns around


    and tells me that it’s probably better this way because he had to let me go anyway.”


    “What’s that supposed to mean?”


    “I don’t fucking know.” I bite into my breakfast with renewed vigor. “And then he said something to


    me and I got the weirdest sense of déjà vu which weirded me out.”


    She frowns. “That’s still happening?”


    I nod. “Worse than ever.”


    “God, this is like The Vampire Diaries on crack,” she mutters into her coffee.


    I nod. “Then he more or less told me to go back to Mark because he was giving me my freedom back.”


    She frowns as she chews. “Didn’t he just go ape and demand Mark get his hands off his girlfriend?”


    “Yep.”


    “Fucking hell. I’m confused.”


    “Join the club.”


    “What are you going to do?”


    I shrug. “Go to work and beg for my job back.”


    “Fuck.”


    “And that stupid bitch from reception who busted me with star is just being a grade A cow.”


    She ughs  out  loud.  “Seriously,  that  is  the  story  of  this  whole  trip.  Emerson  Mathews,  good  girl


    extraordinaire, gets busted jacking off a guy in a closet at her first work function.”


    I cringe and shiver. “I will never live that down. I’m going to need therapy to recover.”


    She sips her coffee as she watches me. “In all seriousness, what are you going to do?”


    I sit back in my seat. “Nothing. That’s it.”


    She shrugs. “It was fun while itsted, huh?”


    I smile regretfully. “It was. He was the perfect guy in every sense.”


    “And crazy as a coconut,” she mutters dryly.


    I nod. “Yes. Unfortunately, that, too.”


    The acid in my stomach is sky high. I don’t think I have ever been so nervous. I’m probably going to get a


    stomach ulcer over this. It’s pouring with rain and it’s dark, just like my mood.


    It’s all his bloody fault.


    I am on the bus on my way to work. It’s Monday morning and I’m about to face the music that the


    ridiculous Irish fiasco has caused me. Since I met that twat my whole life has be one big mess.


    I went out with the gang on Operation Hump Hank on Saturday night, and we had fun, but the night was


    marred  by  my  thoughts  of  star,  wondering  where  he  was  and  what  was  he  doing.  On  the  upside,


    though, Hank did get a girl’s phone number.


    What must this look like from the outside?


    I jack him off in a closet and get busted by a vengeful bitch from reception. I avoid Mark for three


    weeks, and then, in the middle of dumping him, my knight in shining armores to defend my honor in


    what is, quite possibly, the most absurd disy of affection I have ever witnessed from a man. Oh, lets


    not forget the smartass delivering tequ and cream to Mark’s parents. What a fuck up.


    To  make  matters  worse,  I  have  spent  the  whole  weekend  pining  for  him,  checking  my  phone


    constantly. Hoping, even praying, that he calls me. Of course, he hasn’t. He was obviously serious when


    he told me I had my freedom. But now that I have it, I don’t bloody want it. I want to feel his big, strong


    arms around me. I want to hear the velvety, deep voice, and that beautiful ent of his.


    I hate to admit it, but I’m missing him. I’m missing the thrill I felt when he called me Emmaline-the


    ecstasy I felt when we made love, and the safety I felt when I slept in his arms. I’m not supposed to feel


    anything, I know. We were casual. I close my eyes in regret. The thing is, I know he felt more, too. He


    showed his true emotions when he became jealous on Friday night.


    What  does  he  feel,  though?  Does  he  feel  this  connection  between  us  or  is  it  just  an  ownership,


    petitive guy thing? He must feel something. You don’t go all crazy if you don’t feel anything at all.


    Who am I kidding? Of course he feels something. I can feel it in the way he kisses me and holds me. Is he


    feeling shitty this morning, too?


    What a mess.


    I get off the bus and trudge through the rain with my piss ant umbre. This shitty thing does nothing at


    all and my pants are wet from the horizontal wind. Just stop raining, I don’t have time for this shit.


    I walk through reception and put my wet umbre into the pot next to the door then make my way over


    to the lift. “Excuse me?” Stephanie calls from behind.


    I turn. “Yes.” What does she want now?


    “You can’t leave that umbre there.” She points to my umbre.


    I frown. “Why not? It’s an umbre stand and that’s what it’s for.”


    “It’s for client’s umbres. Not staff.”


    I re at her. I swear, this bitch is going down today. I am so not in the mood for her bullshit. “Well,


    Stephanie.” I fake a smile. “I don’t have an umbre stand next to my desk and, since there isn’t a single


    umbre in this stand…” I widen my eyes as a silent challenge. “I’m using it.”


    Her eyes hold mine in defiance. “I’m going to have to report this to the management.”


    I  fake  a  smile  once  again.  “I  look  forward  to  it.”  I  turn  to  walk  out  but  my  inner  bitch  can’t  helpText property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    herself, so I turn back. “Stephanie?”


    “Yes.”