Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“I can get it.”
“Go sit.” She waved me toward the living room. “We need a kitchen table.”
“But then the house wouldn’t flow as well during parties,” I mumbled, stuffing a huge bite of toast in my mouth.
“God forbid,” Brody joked dramatically, following me into the living room. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, you look better than Scott.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He had a shiner when he left.”
“What did you do?” I asked, dread pooling in my belly.
“I just told you,” he replied slowly. “Gave him a shiner.”
“You punched him?”
“He went down like a sack of potatoes,” Brody confirmed with a mouth full of food. “Pussy.”
“What have we said about using female body parts as insults?” I asked in exasperation.
Brody smiled and shrugged.
I shook my head in exasperation. “Thanks.”
“You wanna tell me what he did?” Brody asked quietly.
I thought about it for a moment, shame making the skin on my chest flare with heat. “No.”
“Okay,” he replied simply.
The boys only stayed for another hour, and after they left, Lou and I curled up on opposite ends of the couch to read. When I’d gone back to grab my book, she’d already taken away my bedding, and I could hear the washing machine toiling away across the hall. We stayed there on the couch for the rest of the day, even though we should’ve been cleaning up from the party. My anxiety was so acute that I couldn’t make myself be productive, and Lou refused to leave my side.
I called in sick Monday and Tuesday. By Wednesday, I’d drummed up the courage and made an appointment with the clinic that I’d been going to since high school. They didn’t have any openings for over a week.
Going back to work filled me with so much dread that my heart pounded, and my hands grew clammy the moment I climbed into the car. I didn’t see Scott the first day, he was checking out a job we were working on the other side of town, but I knew that I’d have to face him at some point since he’d been blowing up my phone.
Everything made me jumpy. Every sound, every time the phone on my desk rang, every time someone stopped by my office. I was a nervous wreck.
By the time he finally stepped into my office, it felt pretty anticlimactic.
“Hey, you have a minute?” he asked quietly.
I stared at the man I’d been dating and felt nothing. No sadness, no affection, barely any recognition.
“What’s up, Scott?” I asked, clenching my fist around the pen I’d been using.
He reached for the door like he was going to close it behind him, and I jerked to my feet.
“Leave it open,” I ordered.
“Frankie,” he chastised, his hand still on the doorknob. He looked at me like I was a toddler throwing a fit. “Really?”
“Please leave the door open,” I repeated, a little louder.
“You’ve been dodging my calls.”
“I’ve been busy,” I ground out.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You think?” I asked sarcastically.
“Come on, are you seriously still pissed?” he asked condescendingly. “You’re overreacting.”
“This conversation is over,” I ground out through my teeth. I wanted to hop over my desk and scratch his face off.
“It’s not like you can avoid me forever,” he replied. “We work together.”
“You work in a completely different office.”
“Not anymore.”
“What?” I choked out.
“I was planning on telling you.” He leaned against the doorway. “I talked to my uncle and transferred over here. I thought you’d be happy.”
“I don’t care where you work,” I lied. I really wished he hadn’t transferred.
“I can’t believe you’re still mad.”
“I can’t believe you still think that we have anything to talk about,” I shot back. “Please leave my office.”
“So, that’s it then?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed. “Stop calling me.”
Scott smirked. “I’ll give you some space.”
“It’s over,” I clarified, even though I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t gotten the point already. “Please keep things professional at work.”
“Not sure if I can,” he said, that stupid smirk still on his face. He lifted his hands, palms up. “I’m pretty crazy about you.”
My heart was beating like a jackhammer by the time he finally left my office, and I shakily sat back down in my chair. I wasn’t afraid of Scott. He wasn’t physically intimidating by any means, and he’d never hinted at even a sliver of violence, but something in our conversation made me really uncomfortable. The way he’d spoken, like I was a hysterical child, made me nervous. He didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer, and I didn’t know how I could’ve made things clearer.
It took nearly an hour for me to calm down enough to focus.
Thursday and Friday followed the same pattern. Scott showed up at my office door, acting like everything was fine. He never left when I asked him to, instead talking about how much he missed me and how gorgeous I was and asking when I’d be free for dinner. I shut him down each time, and he eventually walked away, but the interactions left me feeling uneasy.