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It was hard not to remember that morning. Thinking that I could have had only one taste of her... one taste of her was criminal. However, I couldn’t blame myself because it had been like that with everyone else. Once was enough, but this time around, and just like I had felt from the moment I had laid eyes on her, I felt as though I was haunted.
Sighing, I got up and headed over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in my bedroom and stared out at the gorgeous city skyline. I wanted to call her. I was getting frustrated, anxious, so fucking horny my erection wouldn’t go down. However, she was my secretary; it was the weekend. It was inappropriate. I tried to tell myself that perhaps, given what she had told me earlier about her attraction to me, she would be glad to see me too. However, I couldn’t vouch for this, and I didn’t want to make things even more awkward between us. Plus... after this… I really didn't know how things would go between us. The intensity of my attraction to her was definitely not going to last forever, and her job as well as her reputation would be at stake if she just continued to sleep with me.
I had no fruitful intention toward her, and this bothered me. All I could do was stare out the window and ponder heading out. In the end, I decided to return to bed after grabbing a bottle of juice; however, just as I took my seat, I saw my phone light up.
Leaning forward, I checked the message that had come in, and I was startled. At first, I wasn’t sure that I was seeing it right, so I picked it up, and when I read the message, the biggest of smiles spread across my face.
“I uh… do you need me to do some work for you? Please reach out if you do.”
Her words were all jumbled and filled with typos, and I knew then that something was off. Maybe not in a bad way. I mean, it was Friday night, and this looked like drunk texting to me. I considered ignoring it altogether, but then, too enticed by how entertaining this could get, I got into bed and responded.
“Why are you texting me about work at midnight?” I asked.
It took a little while, but since I wasn’t going to sleep anyway, I waited, and soon her response came.
“Sorry- I... what are you doing? I mean - I’m having cocktails. Mandy says I've had enough. Do you have water?”
Shit! I sat up then. Who the hell was Mandy? Was that a friend of hers? Where was she exactly? I mean, it was none of my business, but I really needed to know if she was safe wherever she was, even though, again, it was none of my business.
Sighing, I considered calling her, but knowing that she would probably pick up and be incoherent, I decided not to hesitate. There was no loss in trying, so I placed the call and waited.
For some reason, I was a bit too anxious to just remain lying down, so I got up. However, she didn’t pick up. This made me worry because if she was drunk texting me, the phone should be in her hands, right?
And so, I called again.
She still didn’t pick up, so I sent her a text.
“Hannah?” I wrote. “Are you okay?”
No response.
“Where are you? Send me your location, and I'll come get you.”
“Sorry, I went to the bathroom,” she said, and I looked at the response, completely confused about where she was.
“Give the phone to Mandy. Can you give the phone to Mandy?” I asked.
I sent the question over to her and once again nervously waited for a response.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hannah
Iwas freaking screwed. As I stared at his message, the gravity of what I had just done began to dawn on me. Drunken texts could be excused, and so after turning away advances from every single guy that had come up to me at the bar with Mandy, I had decided to whip out my phone to discourage further approaches or hopes of conversation. And as a result, I had dialed up my boss’s contact information and decided to fake drunk text him but sent him the message.
I had also done it so stupidly that he was now worried about my safety, and now I had to share my location. I was so close to panicking, and when I turned to Mandy, she immediately noticed the frightened look on my face. She was in a booth with her boyfriend and a couple of other men, but instantly she got up and found her way over.
I didn't speak until she was seated next to me, and then I handed her the phone. Eyeing me curiously, she took it, and then she began to read. Eventually, and after noting the name on top, her mouth fell open.
“You fake drunk texted your boss?”
I was startled at her tone and couldn’t help but turn around.
“No, you weren’t loud enough,” I told her. “Maybe I should get you a microphone so you can scream into it.”
“I'm sorry,” she apologized, immensely amused.
“He mentioned my name,” she said. “He's asking for me.”
