He gives me a stiff smile and nods. I turn and leave the office, finally feeling a little better.


    I walk down the street on a mission. It’s my lunch break and I am going to Heirloom to see Beverly to find


    out more about my ring. I have been reading my love letters and I’m officially beyond intrigued. I want to


    know if they have any names or dates or… anything-anything that gives me more information so I can


    research. I smile to myself as I walk. It’s ironic, really. I came to London to soak up the history and I


    somehow find myself as the owner of a beautiful antique ring and a box of precious love letters between a


    princess and her guard. Who would have thought? I’m not actually sure where Heirloom is, though. I have


    been here twice but the ce I thought that it was looks like it’s now a travel agency? I must be in the


    wrongneway or something. I look back to where I came from. Gosh, these cobble streets all look the


    same. It’s here somewhere. I search aimlessly until I run out of time and have to be back at work.


    Damn it, where is it? Maybe I should ring Mr. Twinkle and ask him where it is. My heart jumps at just


    the thought. Should I ring him? I haven’t even let myself contemte it before now.


    What would I say? I think about this from his point of view. He said he didn’t share and then we spent


    three dreamy nights together. I smile at the memory. God, he’s damn delicious. Then he asked to see me


    again on the Friday night and I said I had something on. Hmm. Then if he was walking across the road and


    saw me with Mark, I suppose I would have investigated, too. Bloody Mark was all over me, which didn’t


    help. I was jealous of him just talking to a girl at the bar. I can’t imagine if she had had her lips all over


    his hand or he had been holding her hand under the table. Oh shit. Maybe he is right and this is partly my


    fault? I just expected him to know I didn’t want Mark.


    But  how  would  he  know  that  I’m  not  just  stringing  him  along?  He  doesn’t  know  my  character.  He


    doesn’t know I don’t have the energy or morals to betray and cheat on anyone.


    This is definitely something to think about.


    4pm on the longest day in history and I am in the kitchen devouring every damn biscuit I can find.


    Screw the diet. I don’t have the stamina for this shit.


    I hold my phone in my hand and stare at it, urging myself to just ring star.


    I want to see him, and the more I have dissected this situation all afternoon, the more I can see his


    point.


    Text. I will text him. What will I text him? Something undramatic. I make my coffee as I think. I’m not


    apologizing because he was totally out of line to behave the way he did. I’m not sucking up, either. I don’t


    want to appear pathetic and needy. What was thest thing he said to me?


    Take your freedom.


    I smirk and text.


    I don’t want your freedom.


    I stare at my phone. Reply, please, reply. I pour my milk into my coffee and wait.


    Damn it, he’s not going to reply.


    I head back to my desk and sit down when my phone beeps?


    Does Wham know that you’re are using their lyrics?


    Huh? I quickly Google Wham and type in freedom. What is he talking about?


    The lyrics of a songe up and I smile broadly. Trust him to know this.


    I text back the next lines of the song.


    I don’t want to y around.


    I wait for his reply and then I immediately text again.


    Part time love just brings me down.


    I wait for his reply and I know he’s probably smirking. My phone beeps.


    I scramble to read it. The others aren’t at their desks and will be back any moment, it reads.


    And?


    Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? He’s not going to make this easy. I text back.


    Can I see you tonight?


    I wait, and I wait. My eyes guiltily scan around the office as I tap my pencil against my desk. Damn, I


    am cking today. I have hardly done a thing. Maybe Stephanie really should tattle on me? A text bounces


    back.


    That depends.


    I frown and text back.


    On what?


    A text fires back.


    On whether you are going to go all praying mantis on me.


    Iugh  out  loud  and  then  remember  where  I  am,  quickly  regaining  some posure  as  my  eyes  dartMaterial ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    around again. I quickly reply. Shit, I am going to get caught. Without a doubt, I am the world’s worst


    employee.


    No.