Page 21 of Mr. Perfect

No, that inner voice says. No. You will not fall back onto old habits just because you are part of the real world again.

My cell rings in the other room, so I take my one drink and walk out to answer it.

I smile at the name on the screen. Mr. Romantic. “Hey, asshole. What’s up?”

“Mr. Perfect, how the fuck did it go?” Nolan Delaney’s voice is welcome. We’ve been friends since we started boarding school together back in the seventh grade. We’ve been through hell and back since those days.

“Well, shit,” I say. “About as fucked up as I imagined, but not in any of the ways I thought.”

“Bad, huh?” Nolan asks. I can hear the sympathy in his voice.

“It could’ve been worse, I guess. How are things with you? Business good?”

“Killing this shit, Perfect. I’m killing this shit.”

“You always do.” I sigh.

I can almost hear his smile on the other end. And then the corresponding frown. “It’ll get better, man. Just hang in there, you know?” Nolan’s life has been charmed since the day he was born. What does he know about failure? What does he know about anything that doesn’t begin and end with success?

That’s not fair and I know it. He was there. I am the only black mark on his perfect record of an existence. Even in the worst of times he was never the target. That was always me. I just brought my friends along for the ride.

We make a little more small talk, him wishing me luck and providing me with the appropriate level of support. I thank him and hang up.

Alone again.

I’ve been this way for ten years, so what’s one more night?

That’s my mantra. I’ve lived with it for ten years. I can live with it for one more night.

The problem is Ellie. I can’t seem to stop seeing her face. Her breasts. Her flat stomach as I pushed her back on that desk. I was so fucking close. Twice today. So fucking close.

I need to be different tomorrow. Need to put a stop to this before it all goes to shit again. Need to be careful about who I trust. Who I let in. Who I get close to.

Ellie Hatcher will never be that girl. She’s got me in a place I don’t want to be. And one more wrong move might ruin my life.

Again.

At four AM I give up trying to sleep and go for a run. There’s a quarter-mile track along the perimeter of the roof, but the hills of the surrounding area call to me. I haven’t been running since I got back to the States and it feels good.

It rained all night long and the air is crisp. I love dawn. I love the smell of a fresh start, a new day. I love beginnings.

After three miles I turn back and slow my pace to ease my heart back down. The doorman smiles and hands me a newspaper as I head towards the elevator, and when I get upstairs I have just enough time to jump into the steam shower and get dressed before I need to leave for work.

I like to get there early. Especially today.

I walk into my seventh-floor office at exactly six forty-five and stand at the window, wishing I had a view of the airport instead of the cows for once. Or the parking lot, so I could watch her coming to work.

Ellie kept me up all night. Not just my threat, although that was weighing heavy on my mind. Things about her. Things I don’t know about her. What kind of car does she drive? Where does she live? What does her apartment look like? Why does she work here?

I only know the answer to the last question. Although I could look the other three up and find them somewhere in her personnel file. She has to have an address listed. I could find that in five seconds. And she has to have a parking pass for the lot. That would list her car on the application.

I don’t want to stalk her though.

Why the fuck am I still thinking about her?

She’s not even going to show today. And on the off chance that she does show, she won’t show up here on the seventh floor. I’ll have to send someone down to the hangar to get her, I’m sure.

The elevator opens and I turn and try to see out my open door.