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Passing by the marketing segment of the office, I couldn’t help but linger at the sound of her voice. She was excited, telling one of her coworkers—Andrea, I think her name is—about a date tonight.
A date. That Sophie is going on. Tonight. With some goddamn barista.
It’s a different situation and scenario than last time, when Sophie was deliberately trying to stir the pot with her little lie about her hottest hookup. This time, she had no idea I was listening.
And she was actually looking forward to it. Telling the truth about her date tonight.
It boils my fucking blood.
I shove the report away from me in a flutter of pages and lean back in my chair, scrubbing my face with my hands.
“Shit,” I tell myself quietly. “Fuck this shit and fuck you too.”
My phone rings, and I actually leap at the opportunity to lose myself in some obscure problem or management detail. But instead of a work issue, it’s Cole.
“Speak,” I say, too curt.
He snorts. “Good to hear your voice too, Dec. Did I catch you in the middle of something? You know you didn’t have to answer.”
“It’s fine. I answered because I wanted to answer.”
“Uh-huh.” Cole can sniff bullshit from a mile away, and I know he’s not buying an ounce of mine. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Is it that asshole father of yours?”
Cole and Reed, they know everything about me. Even things I sometimes wish they didn’t.
“No,” I say, in spite of the fact that I’m still stung from hearing from my father the other day. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
It’s too complicated and pathetic to get into, but I know that Cole’s not going to leave it alone. I’d do the same with him, if I thought that something was eating at him and I might be able to help him out with it.
“I need to get a barista fired,” I mutter, and Cole bursts out into laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s not funny. It’s unexpected. What’d they do, piss in your pour over?”
“Something like that.” The idea of someone going on a date with Sophie makes me grit my teeth and set my jaw in a way that my dentist would be very concerned about.
“Ah. What’s her name?”
I heave a sigh. Leave it to fucking Cole to sniff out that this is about a woman.
“It’s no one,” I say. Because it has to be no one. It must be nothing. My anger is irrational. I can’t have Sophie, so, what? Neither can anyone else? I shake my head at my own thinking, because that’s utter bullshit. Jealousy over a scenario that can never happen.
“Well, I can tell that Ms. No One has you in a bind,” Cole says. “You need to take care of yourself. And for fuck’s sake, try to be discreet.”
“Save it for fucking Reed, man,” I complain.
“I don’t think my lectures have an impact on him anymore,” Cole admits. “You see how he is. Always finding himself balls deep in drama. He brings it on himself. Don’t be Reed, Dec. Seriously. Don’t do it.”
“I know.” I do. Cole’s the voice of reason I’ve been lacking here, but knowing the right thing to do doesn’t make doing it—or, in this case, not doing it—any easier.
I want Sophie. Plain and simple. I want her and I can’t have her, and I hate the fact that some goddamn barista is going to have what I can’t.
It just goes to show that money won’t buy happiness, as fucking corny as that sentiment is.
“I wasn’t calling you to give you life advice,” Cole says. “I’m calling because you owe me money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say with a frown.
