I want to be her when I grow up.
By the time the meeting's over, I have pages of scrawl to sort through. People are laughing, grabbing the last few muffins, and exiting together. Alec sticks around to speak with Denise, not that I'm watching him or anything (yeah freaking right), and I make it to my desk still in one piece.
I can't believe I pulled that off. I managed to sit in that meeting, to follow it, like an actual responsible, capable person.
My hands are shaking.
Why are my hands shaking?
Why is my breath coming so fast?
Oh God. Is this a panic attack?
I sink into my chair, staring at my computer screen until it blurs.
This should feel good. This should feel incredible. Instead, I feel like a complete imposter.
"Uh, are you okay?" Sam asks, and when I turn to him, hoping for… I don't know what, but some sort of kindness, instead I find that his brows are furrowed, not in concern, but something more like half a sneer. The kind only a teenager can pull off.
I don't even have the energy left to try to match it. "I was fine until you started talking to me."
Now those brows shoot straight up. "You are the most hostile person I've ever met."
"Should I clear off space on my desk for that trophy?" I bite my tongue, a second too late, reminding myself he is a teenager, after all. And he helped me before the meeting. We even had an almost friendly start-over back in the conference room. "I'm…" I cough, choking over the next word, irritated that I have to say it even though I know I'm in the wrong. "Sorry. I don't mean to be such an asshole."
"You're failing." His dry tone and complete honesty makes me laugh, crumbling one of the bricks of tension in my chest.
I hold my breath, clicking on the little email inbox icon on my computer, sighing in relief when there isn't anything new. "I'm kind of overwhelmed."
"Really?" His voice rises in surprise. "But you're on break from college—isn't this a million times less overwhelming than that?"
Right. He assumes I'm in college. Because that's where I should be at my age.
According to the rest of the stupid world, anyway.
Alec must know I'm not in college.
I don't want to care. I usually don't.
School's not my thing. Hell, I spent my senior year in my high school's cosmetology vocational program—which boosted me almost all the way to my hairstylist license. Six months after graduation, I had the certification in my hands. I stood in the moment with absolutely zero intention of considering college. Nothing's changed since.
But… Alec's in grad school at Harvard. I mean… Let's just add another checkmark to the tally of things that make me feel small.
I stare at my monitor and press my fingers into my mouse so hard something flashes across the screen and disappears so fast I have no idea what file I opened. Or deleted. Or whatever.
Who the fuck cares?
"Where do you go again?" Sam asks, apparently caring.
Ugh. I cannot be a bitch again. No matter how much I want to.
No matter how hot anger boils in my veins.
"Levels of being overwhelmed are different in different situations." I don't know what I'm saying, but it's either talk nonsense or snap his freaking head off. Plus, out of the corner of my eye, he nods, so maybe I made sense after all. I'm the only one too dumb to get it.
Super fucking awesome. I sound smarter when I spew shit I don't understand than I do when I speak like myself.
Little prickles, both sweet and stinging, nip the sensitive skin of my neck and when I look up from my computer, Alec is striding toward me, through the office. The instant our eyes meet, he looks away, saying something to the guy he's passing, pausing to laugh at whatever his response is. He doesn't glance at me again, only stopping to ask Sam for any messages when he passes between our desks.
More awesome. Now he won't even look at me?
Sorry, he says in an email that pops up a few minutes later. I was rude walking past you. Still trying to figure out how to treat you as a coworker. Forgive me?
I almost reply with, I get it. How can I think of you as my boss when I know what you look like with a huge erection? But I don't have the guts to do it. Instead, all I come up with is, Moonwalk into the office tomorrow, and we'll see.
God, I'm lame.
But a hint of his laughter echoes through the glass walls of his office—I'm not sure I'd even hear it if I wasn't listening for it—and it melts like warm honey along my skin, making me resist the strongest urge to giggle.
Or stride right into his office and kiss some of that laughter right out of his perfect mouth.
It's enough to distract me for a good half an hour, thinking about doing that. Who knows how many times Sam has to say my name until I notice? He asks if I want him to walk me around and make introductions.
Obviously, I don't. Even if I enjoyed making small talk, I've met most of them, either today, or at the happy hour. But I do let Sam ramble on, telling me about his high school baseball team (he pitched) and the various scandals that happened over his senior year. It helps to keep my mind off of Alec, but not for nearly long enough.
Later, Mr. Evans drops by, reminding me of my promise to go to lunch with him. It's a relief to leave, and it's hard not to turn and glance at the shadow of Alec in his office as I walk away, but I manage.
When I'm back, stuffed with more pasta than I've ever eaten in one sitting, Alec is gone, out with clients for the rest of the day.
I hate it.
But damn if I don't find it a lot easier to do even the simplest of things without him in his office behind me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, after a restless night of sleep—with only Alec and the word virgin spinning through my mind until they became so connected I doubt I'll ever be able to separate them—I walk straight past the reception guy in the lobby. Pretty sure he rolls his eyes at me, but I refuse to look his way. Today's going to be a better, less insecure day.
I'm going to read things carefully. I'm going to finish transcribing what I can from my notes yesterday.
I'm going to convince Alec to sleep with me.
It's the perfect situation. He knows my secret. He's fucking gorgeous. And he leaves at the end of the summer to head back to grad school. So I don't have to worry about wanting more than a fling, if my mind's already aware of how unavailable he is. There's no way I'll end up like my mother, because he'll be gone, far enough away that I won't be able to cling to him.
Even if the thought of him leaving tightens muscles in my stomach with the anticipation of some longing I definitely have no right to.
But that's easy enough to ignore.
Or, at least, I'm sure it will be.
Sam's already at his desk—and there's a steaming cup of coffee waiting on mine. I look from it to him. "Did you poison this?"
He rolls his eyes. "It's a peace offering."
"A poisoned cup of coffee disguised as a peace offering?" But I smile when I ask, and this time he laughs.
"Ty—my boyfriend—thought maybe I should've been nicer to you yesterday."
This surprises me. "Why? I was the asshole."
"My grandparents were Japanese." He says it like an explanation.
"Okay?" I grab the coffee, wincing with the first sip—not sweet enough. And, when he doesn't elaborate, "So?"
"Both my parents were born in America. So was I. When you asked where I was from… People ask those questions to make me feel different. Other. But I'm not. I'm American."
I need more coffee to process what he's saying. I take another bitter sip. "I didn't mean to—"
"I try to believe that most people don't mean anything intentional with questions like that. But when you've been asked it your entire life, every time ends up a dagger, slicing me away from the ability to feel normal, like I belong." He sighs. "And now my instincts are to apologize to you for being a jerk about it, but that would be more—"<
br />
"You shouldn't." I shake my head. "Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry." I am, too. I don't mind offending people—but only when I do it intentionally.
"So you get it then?"
"Yeah." I'm tempted to admit that I feel out of place all the time. That when people say things they assume I'll understand, I either have to ask for clarification like an idiot, or nod along like I get it, feeling more and more isolated the longer the conversation goes on. It's a totally different situation from what Sam goes through, but the end results are certainly similar. All I say, though, is, "Thank you for explaining. I never would have understood that on my own."
"Now you can." He starts to say something else, but the phone rings and he sighs. "Here we go."
The rest of the morning he's busy. I try to appear busy, at least. I open my email, not expecting much yet. But there's a message from Alec. Thought you might like to know… is the subject line. Instantly, I'm nervous. Or maybe excited. Sometimes I have trouble telling the difference. Either way, my face heats, and I hesitate before opening the rest of the email, mentally counting down from three first. And then reading slowly to keep from missing anything.
Teagan, it begins, as I wrongly interpreted your two truths and two lies from the game on Friday, I thought you might find this video to be educational. On the other hand, I personally found it distracting.
A bit like I find you.
Alec.
On my first read, my stomach tightens painfully. I see the word lies and everything plummets. He's still upset with me. All I want to do is close it out, delete it, and leave. But I can't, and I need to pay attention to anything else he wants me to do, in case there are instructions here that I've missed.
On my next read, I'm interrupted because Sam laughs at me and I realize I'm sounding words out—not just in my mind. Shit. But I don't stop, because I don't want to make another mistake like I did yesterday, missing key information and showing up late on accident. I angle my face away from Sam, though, and keep the mouthing silent on the next read.
This time, his other words sink in. The game on Friday. Distracting…like you. I swivel in the spinning seat of my chair, biting back a smile, though its lightness makes the muscles in my face lift anyway.
He thinks I'm distracting? Like, still distracting? Like, even after everything he now knows about me?
A little thrill rushes through my veins.
Okay, that was a lie.
It was a huge thrill, and it's still rushing. And it grows fiercer when I notice the time stamp of the email and discover he sent it at ten p.m. He was thinking about me at ten p.m.
Or some educational video reminded him of me, at least.
What sort of person watches educational videos that late? I guess guys who have entire game rooms full of comic books and video games; the thought has me smirking.
Then I click on the link, and it's a fucking instructional video about how to tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. "Oh my God."
"What?" Sam looks over and I click out of the video with almost superhuman speed. He laughs. "Watching porn on your second day? Ballsy."
"It wasn't porn," I say, my face boiling, an annoying smile forcing my lips apart.
"Right. Because that's why you're grinning like an idiot."
"Your sarcasm is on point today," I say, trying to get my expression under control, a weird giddiness making it impossible to get all the way back to my smirk, so I settle for half of that, half of the smile. "Dry enough to make me thirsty."
"Good thing I brought you a coffee then."
"Could've used some sugar." I hold it up in thanks, though, before taking a sip. Sam rolls his eyes, turning his attention to his computer.
I want to open the video again.
Badly.
Maybe something between us really isn't off the table after all.
Maybe he can take me on a table. Or over his desk.
Yum.
I might not ever have actually had sex—but I've definitely participated in the preceding events a time or two. And, regardless, not having done it doesn't mean I can't vividly imagine what it'll be like. Especially with Alec. If I close my eyes, I can feel him. His chest against my back, his thighs pressing my legs into his desk… His warm, soapy scent. His stubble rubbing the skin of my shoulder while his lips travel my neck…
I force my eyes open, sliding them toward Sam—thankfully, he's typing something and not paying me an ounce of attention.
I'm at work.
I'm at work and I should not be this turned on.
I should not be shifting in my padded mesh desk chair to ease the fluttering between my legs.
This is inappropriate.
I stare out at the rest of the office, zeroing in on a guy who's old enough to be my grandfather at the far end of an aisle. Wrinkled face, huge nose, receding hairline…
There. I no longer feel the need to shift back and forth.
So that helps.
But the universe is laughing at me, because behind the old man, Alec freaking appears, striding toward me. Gray suit this time. Hair slicked back. Stubble-less, but still sharp jawline.
He's looking at a paper in his hand, not at me, but I appreciate the private moment to…appreciate him.
A woman I recognize from the meeting yesterday steps in his path, drawing his attention to something at her desk. He leans down to study her computer screen. I shift to my side, wondering if there's any way to get a better view of the way his suit shapes his ass while he's bent over.
"Neck cramp?" Sam asks.
I snap upright, rubbing my neck, staring at my computer screen. "Yep. Slept funny last night."
"Are you sure it has nothing to do with our super hot boss?"
"Eh." I shrug—and then wince, like it hurt my sore neck. "He's all right."
"You're definitely lying about your neck, then." He's all smug.
"Does your boyfriend care that you check out your boss so hard?" There. My turn to be smug.
But he laughs. "Ty crushes on Alec harder than I do."
I lean back in my seat, smirking. "That's weird."
"Eh." He shrugs, mimicking me. "He's straight. Alec, I mean. Obviously not my boyfriend."
"No shit." My tone's dry, though the kid's kind of starting to crack me up.
"Who cares? It's like thinking a celebrity's hot. Doesn't mean there's anything real to it."
I make a noncommittal response. That's the thing. My attraction? Oh, yeah. There's something real to it.
And if Alec's sending me cherry stem tying videos, if he's thinking about me outside of work—enough to imagine me tying a cherry stem with my tongue… It's maybe not a one-sided thing, either.
I probably shouldn't be excited about this. It's probably a recipe for destruction. He's the son of the CEO. He's my boss, for fuck's sake.
But I'm excited, anyway.
Because… I can't help staring as he closes the distance between us, striding, striding my way, his eyes on mine this time… He's so, so pretty.
I've got it fucking bad.
"Sam, Teagan." He nods to each of us, his eyes lingering on me, my face. "You get your email set up all right?"
I nod back through my blush. "But I got the weirdest spam message last night. With the most random-looking link. I didn't click it, so don't worry. The company won't get a virus because of me."
"You didn't click it?" He shakes his head. "That's too bad. I thought you might enjoy clicking it. A few times."
"Well…" I bite my lip, my heart jumping into my freaking throat when his gaze drops to it. "Okay, I might have clicked it a little bit."
He snorts, clearly biting back a harder laugh. "Me too."
I have to look away or I'm going to die laughing.
Sam clears his throat, and Alec's gaze jumps straight to him, like he's late to remember we have an audience. "Any messages?"
Sam shakes his head. "A few meeting confirmations."
"Thanks." And then he's g
one, past us, into his office. Not even a glance back.
But I don't need one. Because I got everything I wanted with our one little exchange.
Holy hell, it's freaking electric, flirting this way.
With the guy who knows more about me already than anyone I've ever known.
The one who knows all of it—and still seems to want me.
God.
Back to shifting in my seat again.
Damn it.
This is going to get uncomfortable, real quick.
"Uh, what was that?" Sam asks.
"Nothing. You're crazy. I mean, what do you mean?" But I say it all with a smile, because Sam already knows there's something going on.
"Holy shit, is your crush more than a crush?" He leans forward, toward me, his hands on his knees. "There's definitely some sort of leftover sizzle in the air right now. I want details. Spill 'em."
"What crush? No idea what you're talking about."
"Sure…" He studies me, clearly biting something back.
"What aren't you saying?" I really need to quit this grin. "Jealous?"
He laughs. "Maybe a little." Then his face grows a little more serious. "Be careful, okay? Because I kind of think you might be fun to have around…but Piper'll skin you alive."
"Piper…" I hesitate to ask, my throat suddenly thicker than a moment ago. "Who's Piper?"
"Piper's his fiancée."
I blink.
I wait for his words to make sense.
It takes too long.
My smile turns brittle and cracks into pieces. Surely if the floor wasn't carpeted, we'd hear them crinkling like shards of glass when they land. "Alec's engaged?"
"Unless the definition of fiancée's changed, yeah."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"OH, SHIT. YOU didn't know." Sam hasn't moved, but his voice is tinny and far away. "Whoa—are you okay? Your face is really white."
"Funny," I say through gritted teeth. "Because I'm seeing a whole lot of fucking red."
Truth & Temptation Page 10
