Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I sit up a little. “Look, I get it. There’s definitely a big age difference, a power dynamic, and the whole taboo thing. It’s all a lot. I’m not blind.”
“Then why are you pretending none of it matters?”
“Because I can handle it,” I shoot back quickly. “I can keep work separate. I’m not going to throw away my job over one night.”
Becca’s brows draw together. “But what if it’s not just one night?”
I pause.
It’s a question I haven’t let myself ask. It doesn’t feel like one night at all. It feels like the beginning of something truly special. But how can I tell Becca that after I’ve just told her not to worry about me?
“I’ll deal with it if that happens,” I say quietly. “And that’s a big ‘if.’”
“And if it blows up in your face?”
I exhale through my nose and press my fingers to my temple. “Then I’ll clean up the mess and move forward.”
Becca doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she leans back and pulls the blanket over her legs. “You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”
I glance over and find her smiling. “Thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“For not judging me.”
“Oh, I’m definitely judging you,” she says with a smirk. “But who among us hasn’t done something crazy?”
“This doesn’t feel crazy,” I answer, refusing to meet her eyes.
“I hope it stays that way.”
Becca stretches, yawns, and nudges me with her foot. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Probably.”
I push off the cushions and stand, the ache in my thighs a sharp, private reminder of what the night meant. As I move down the hallway, Becca calls out behind me.
“For what it’s worth, I’m always on team Lyra. Just be smart, okay?”
I stop in the doorway to my room and look back. “I’ll try.”
Then I step inside, close the door, and let myself sink into my sheets.
When I open my eyes again, the sun is high and dancing across my bedroom ceiling. I reluctantly get up, shower, eat something, and decide I’m getting too old to pull all-nighters. I’m planning what to do for the day when there’s a knock at the door. I figure it’s just Becca and she’s forgotten her keys.
She texted me earlier that she’d gone out to pick up pastries and whatever overpriced coffee she thinks we deserve today. I’m padding around the kitchen in socks, sipping from a chipped mug, when the knock comes again, firmer this time.
I frown. It’s not Becca’s knock.
I walk slowly to the door, setting the mug down on the console table, and peer through the peephole. My stomach drops. It’s Rick from the office. How the hell does he know where I live?
I freeze for half a second. Then I take a breath, undo the lock, and open the door halfway, angling my body like a shield.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask sharply.
Rick smiles like this is some meet-cute we’ve been building toward. Like I haven’t rejected him twice already.
“Good morning to you too,” he says, glancing past me into my apartment.
“How did you get my address?”
He just shrugs, leaning against the doorframe like we’re friends and not two sentences away from me slamming the door in his face.
“I have my ways.”
I grip the door tighter.
“Well, unfortunately, you and your ways are not welcome here. I’m not interested in you, Rick. I wasn’t interested at work, and I’m definitely not interested in you here, at my home. You’ve essentially invaded it.”
His smirk tightens, his gaze flicking down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Are you always this rude to people who show up just to say hi?”
“You didn’t come to say hi.”
He scoffs, the faux charm dropping. “Look,” he says. “I’ve been thinking. You and I got off on the wrong foot. You’re obviously smart and very attractive. I like that.”
I cross my arms. “That doesn’t do anything to change my opinion of you.”
“Is this because of him?”
My stomach clenches.
“I know you’re fucking the boss,” he adds, voice low and venomous. “Why not give me a try? Don’t pretend you’ve got some kind of moral compass now.”
My jaw tightens. “Leave. Now.”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, his voice slick with something that makes my skin tighten with rage. “If you’re handing out freebies, I might as well get in line.”
Becca’s voice slices through the hallway like a blade. “She’s already told you to get lost. I suggest you do that, asshole.”
Rick’s head jerks to the side, clearly surprised. Becca’s behind him, arms full of coffee cups and a paper bag, one brow arched.
Rick stiffens. His confidence cracks just slightly. His eyes dart back to me.
“Whatever,” he mutters, turning toward the stairs. “You’re not worth it anyway.”
“Oh honey,” Becca says sweetly. “Go back to your mom’s basement where you belong.”
He doesn’t reply, just stomps off down the hall like a kid who didn’t get picked for dodgeball.