I roll over and readjust the sheet so it covers me in my new position, with my back to the window. No sooner had I pulled it one way, it was suddenly tugged the other. I frown, and groggily peep over my shoulder, trying to find the sheet-stealing culprit.
And there she is. Lying in all her glory, the sun shedding light on her perfect face and her silky blonde hair, which has fanned out across the pillow. I smile to myself. I had forgotten Natasha spent the night, but now it all comes rushing back to me. The kisses, the pleasure, her body. Last night was amazing. She is amazing. Our relationship is…amazing.
Okay, so I maybe going over the top, but it’s been so long since I’ve had that glowly, morning after feeling. I feel like I could touch the sky if I wanted to. Natasha’s eyelids slowly flicker open, and upon seeing my grinning face, she smiles back.
“Hi,” she whispers, her soft voice sounding like music to my ears.
I lean in and kiss her. “Good morning.”
She smiles and begins tracing the muscles on my chest. “Last night was…nice.”
I feign offence. “Nice? Is that all I get? Nice?”
She grins and suddenly pushes my back, straddling me. “Okay, it was incredible.”
I smirk and grip her soft thighs. “That’s what I thought.”
She rolls her eyes. “Cocky bastard.”
I laugh gently push her off me. “So, I guess I should go down and make you some breakfast in bed, right?”
She props her head up with her elbow. “Yep, and then perhaps I’ll upgrade last night to mind-blowing.”
I laugh again and quickly put on some clothes before running downstairs, a telltale smile still plastered across my features. “Hi Shortstuff,” I greet Trace as I ruffle his hair.
He pushes my hand off and frowns. “Hi,” he grunts.
I happily begin toasting some bread and look at the cereal available. “What’s up with you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies quietly.
I turn from pouring out glasses of orange juice. “Am I that obvious?”
He nods and picks up his bowl to put it in the sink. “And our rooms are separated by very thin walls.”
I snigger and punch him on the arm. “Sorry.”
He shrugs and begins to walk out of the room. “Trace,” I call out.
He spins around to face me. “What?”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning. He seems a little off. He’s not firing insults at me like he usually his, he’s not asking whether Natasha has any deformities that he would be interested in, he’s not even complaining much about me and Natasha’s loud adventure last night.
His eyes darken and he remains silent for a moment. “Nothing,” he says eventually.
“Did Cat get home okay?”
He sighs and looks at the floor, scuffing his shoes against each other. “Yeah, she got home fine.”
“She seemed a little upset yesterday, is everything okay?”
His head snaps up and he stares at me. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
My heart skips a beat with worry. “Is something wrong?” I panic. Immediately, I feel like shit for not going after her yesterday and mentally curse my hormones.
Trace remains silent for a second, looking at me as though he’s choosing his words carefully. “Just…just leave her alone for a while, okay?”
I frown. “What? Is it me? Have I done something wrong?”
He shakes his head. “No, I just think it’s best we give her a little room, that’s all.”
He quickly turns on his heels and heads out of the room, cutting our conversation short and leaving me wondering what the hell could have happened. I hate the thought of Cat being upset about something, especially when Trace sort of hinted that it could have been because of me. I mentally go over everything that’s happened between Cat and I the last few days. To be honest, not a lot. She’s had her work and I’ve been seeing more of Natasha so we haven’t really seen much of each other. Maybe that’s it, maybe she feels like I’m ignoring her. Of course, I don’t think I have, but women are fickle about that kind of thing. But then why would Trace want me to “give her room”?
I’ll do something nice for her, like get her chocolates or something. Just a little gesture that shows her I still care about her and I’m here for her, but if she wants her space, then I’ll give it to her.
--------------------------------
Right angles, that’s the way to go, right angles.
I’ve just spent at least ten minutes making sure everything on my desk is perpendicular and then spent a further few minutes ensuring all my pencils were sharpened to a razor-sharp point.
Well, this is fun.
Natasha. Natasha. Natasha. I despise her because I can’t despise her. She’s just too nice for her own good. I mean god, where was the halo? Then again, I only met her once, so there’s plenty of time for her true bitch self to come crawling out, right?
Yep, clutching at straws here.
Now I know how Ross from Friends felt when he saw Rachel and Paulo together. God, I am Ross from Friends, aren't I? Oh well, maybe I’ll find some gorgeous boyfriend who will make Justin jealous enough to reveal his undying love for me and eventually we’ll be skipping in the meadows with happiness. Of course, that vision is from the Land of Unrealistic Fantasies, where Santa exists and Britney Spears really is a virgin.
I hear a cough at my desk, jerking me from my thoughts and causing my head to snap up to see who’s standing in front of me. “Oh, hi Mr Karter.”
He raises an eyebrow at the pencil shavings still on my desk and I hastily brush them into the trashcan. “Hello Miss Saunders.”
If my computer was on, it might have looked like I was actually working but seeing as I’m staring at a blank screen, my daydreaming is highly obvious to my disapproving boss. “What can I do for you?”
He stares at me for a second, clearly thinking I’m insane, before turning and bringing someone forward. “I’d like you to meet your new cubicle buddy, Sean Reeves.”
Cubicle buddy? What kind of a phrase is that? I ignore it and stand up to meet the man Mr Karter shoves in front of me.
Oh my God. Tom Cruise is in my cubicle, holding out his hand to shake my own.
No, wait a second, Tom Cruise can’t be in my cubicle, ready to shake my hand because he’s much shorter than the giant standing in front of me and plus, this guy actually looks nothing like Tom Cruise. But god, just god. The guy is breathtaking. I’m momentarily pulled from my Justin-blues in awe and manage to hold out a hand to shake his.
“Hi,” I gush.
He smiles at me, his green eyes sparkling. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
I nod. “Likewise.”
Mr Karter suddenly claps his hands together, causing Sean and I to drop our firm handshake in surprise. “Right, well, I’ll let you two newbies get better acquainted and if there’s anything you need Sean, just ask Catherine or someone else in the office. I’ll be sending someone around shortly to give you a tour.”
Sean reciprocates Mr Karter’s beaming smile. “Okay Mr Karter, thanks a lot.”
Oh god, he’s voice is actually making me melt over here. He’s got a soft yet confident voice with a strong southern accent, much stronger than Justin’s…
Oh great. Just when I thought I’d got the bastard out of my head, he just jumps back in again. I try to push him out of my mind again and turn to Sean, smiling.
“Well, I’m Cat.”
He smiles warmly. “Sean.” He shoves his hands into the pocket of his expensive looking pants and looks around our cubicle. “So, looks like we’re going to be roomies.”
I let out a giggle, normally something only Justin can provoke. “Yep.”
His focus returns to me and he smiles. “Great.”
I grin like a teenager and sneak a glance at him, taking in his dark suit and his piercing green eyes with black hair. He’s gorgeous. In fact, I think in a way he’s even better looking than Justin. Justin’s sexy, and god is he appealing, but Sean is traditionally handsome. I always knew Justin was good-looking, but I wasn’t necessarily attracted to him at first. He slowly pulled me in with his addictive personality and sweet charm, so it's not a purely phsyical attraction.
But Sean is different. From the second I laid eyes on him my jaw dropped to the floor and I couldn't care less about whether he's a nice person or not. He’s the kind of guy that I wouldn't care if I never knew that well, but as long as I could stare at appreciatively, I'm fine. I know for a fact the women of the office will be talking about him at lunch, and he’ll be hot stuff for a few weeks before people settle down and accept him as the office’s token model. And just think, I get to share a cubicle with him. This has got to be the only positive point in my day.
I’m quickly snapped from my thoughts when Jenny, an intern that I vaguely know, approaches our cubicle and says she has to take Sean around the office. I grin as she gapes at him and then turn to switch my computer on, deciding I may as well get a game of solitaire going.
About half an hour later Sean returns and we slip into easy conversation, mainly discussing where he worked before and how Mr Karter has an expressionless voice. He’s actually a pretty nice guy and soon I was so enthralled in out conversation, I didn’t even think about Justin. I had been having such an awful day due to my self-pitying and persistent sweaty images of Justin and Natasha occasionally popping up in my head, but Sean’s arrival had made me completely forget about my pitiable state.
“Did he really say that?” I ask, snorting.
Sean smiles and nods. “Yep, he said that it was wrong to insult Judy Garland when she was such a legend and he made me rewrite the whole piece.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry about that here. I don’t think Mr Karter even reads our editions, so we get to say whatever the hell we want.”
Sean chuckled but a slight tap caused us both to turn and see Abigail, the timid and nervous wreck of a secretary standing with a glorious bouquet of flowers in her hand.
“Hi Abi,” I say cheerfully, always feeling sorry for the poor girl.
“Hi, um, Cat. These came for you,” she replies, holding out the flowers to me and then anxiously awaiting my reaction.
“I don’t think so Abi,” I say, my eyes scanning for a card that might say who they are for. I find one amongst the lilies and, sure enough, it says Cat Saunders on it. I frown. Who could be sending me flowers? It’s not my birthday, Valentines Day is long gone (thank god) and I don’t recall doing any good deeds as of late that would mean I deserved these.
“Boyfriend?” offers Sean.
I resist the urge to snort and shake my head. “No, I don’t have one.”
I rip open the little white envelope and examine the unfamiliar writing.
Sexiful Cat,
Thought these would brighten your day, hope everything’s okay with you. Perhaps you could give me a call and we could start series seven of Friends? I’ve missed our highly intellectually stimulating TV sessions.
Oodles and oodles of love,
Justin xxx
And just like that, Sean is forgotten and my feelings for Justin come rushing back, stronger than before.
Bastard.
--------------------------
“Where’s Natasha?” asks a voice.
I rub my eyes before opening them and see Trace looming over me. “I was almost sleeping.”
“Oh really?” says Trace, conveying no interest at all. “So, where’s Natasha?”
I sit up on the couch and rub my eyes again. “She went home. Had to get a painting finished or something.”
“Oh,” Trace says, dropping himself down on the couch and switching on the TV.
“Do you like her?”
“Who, Natasha?” replies Trace, not taking his eyes of the television.
“Yeah.”
He shrugs. “Don’t really know her.”
I roll my eyes. “But from what you know of her so far?”
He shrugs again. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
Okay? Okay? Is Cindy Crawford “okay”? “I think she’s a little more than okay, Trace.”
“Fine. She’s amazing, she’s breathtaking, she rocks my world," he says dully.
I sigh and lean back on the couch, trying to think of an insult to throw back at him when the phone rings. The usual tussle to get it follows, with me winning and Trace nursing a sore toe, which I took the liberty of standing on. “Hello?” I answer.
“Hi Justin,” says a soft voice.
Thank god. It’s Cat. “Hey, sexiful.”
She chuckles slightly. “Yeah, we’re going to have to talk about that.”
I laugh. “So you got them?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “They’re beautiful.”
I grin. I have such an amazing charm even girls like Cat get reduced to whispering tones with my kind gestures. I’m the man. “I’m glad you like them.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Anything for you, babes.”
She lets out a slightly shaky breath. “But you didn’t have to do that.”
I shrug. “Sure I did. I haven’t talked to you in ages and I thought a bunch of flowers the size of a sheep might say how much I miss you.”
She laughs. “A phone call couldn’t have done the same thing?”
“Nope.”
She laughs again before I hear voices in the background. “Sorry Justin, but I have to go.”
“Okay, well will you come round later?” I ask hopefully.
She pauses. “Um…I’m not sure.”
“Why not?” I protest.
“Oh, you know, work.”
“Cat, are you avoiding me?” I ask outright.
She seems shocked, as though that was the last question she was expecting and doesn’t respond for a moment. “No, not at all. It’s just —”
“You know if something was wrong, you could tell me, right?”
She sighs. “Of course.” I hear a muffle as she puts her hand over the receiver. When she gets back on, she sounds slightly flustered and I know, on this occasion, it really is work. “Justin, I really have to go. Call me in half an hour?”
“Sure.”
“Bye Justin.”
“Bye Cat,” I say softly, before hanging up the phone.
Trace is staring at me when I get off. “I told you not to pester her,” he says sternly.
“I’m not,” I reply defensively. I’m not pestering her, I’m just being…persistent.
“Then why did you demand she come over when she said she was busy?”
Hmm. Good question, one that I don’t really have an answer for. “I just wanna see her.”
Trace sighs and leaves the room, shaking his head as he goes. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s like he wants me to just ignore the fact Cat is upset and wait until she’s better before I talk to her. She’s my friend and I’m worried about her, nothing wrong with that, right? Exactly.
So precisely half an hour later, I call her again. After all, she did actually ask me to call this time, so I know my call should be welcome. I know she would get in trouble if I called her work number so I called her cell phone and patiently waited for a few rings before a voice answered.
“Hello?”
I frown. That’s not Cat. That’s a man’s voice. And he’s got a southern accent. And he’s answering Cat’s cell phone. And that instantly bothers me. It’s her personal phone which he has no right to touch, let alone answer. What the hell is he doing answering her phone? Who is this southern hillbilly I suddenly want to kill?
Woah, Justin, calm down, he only answered her phone. “Um, hi, can I speak to Cat please?” Yes I should, seeing as it is her phone, asshole..
“Cat’s a little busy right now,” replies the voice and I can hear he’s trying not to laugh.
Cat’s voice floats through from the background and I can hear a shuffle and a few shouts and giggles before, finally, I hear her voice. “Hello?”
She sounds as though she’s smiling or just been laughing and sort of sounds…out of breath. Oh my god, what are they doing? She wouldn’t answer the phone during sex, right? Wait, sex! She’s having sex with the piece of trailertrash I just spoke to? No fucking way.
“Cat, what the hell is going on?!”
She laughs. “Sean stole my phone and I had to wrestle to get it off him.”
Sean? Sean? Stupid name, if you ask me. “Who’s Sean?”
“Oh, my new work buddy,” she says nonchalantly. She doesn’t sound like she did before. She sounds all…happy…and as though she has completely forgotten our previous conversation.
All of a sudden, I hear another shuffle and by the sound of it, “Sean” has gotten the phone again. I strain to hear the conversation between them.
“Sean, give it back!”
“Nuh uh, Shorty. You’re just gonna have to beg.”
I hear a snort. “I don’t think so,” comes Cat’s unmistakeably defiant tone. Good for you Cat, stand up to the dick.
“I’ll give it back to you if you say I’m a sexy and desirable specimen of a man and you want me so bad.”
Pft, yeah, right. This jackass obviously doesn’t know Cat like I know her; otherwise he would know she would rather kill herself than--
“You are a sexy and desirable specimen of a man and I want you so bad,” she says.
What. The. Fuck.
“Sorry about that, Justin. What did you want to talk to me about?”
The fact you’ve done a complete 360 in the last half hour? “Whether you’re coming round or not.”
“Oh,” she says, sounding as though she had completely forgotten. “Um, will Natasha be there?” she asks hesitantly.
I frown. Why should that make a difference? “Um, maybe. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” she hastily says. “I’m not sure about tonight, how about we do something this weekend?”
My frown remains. “If you can’t come today…”
“Do something with Natasha,” she says, in a slightly bitchy tone which surprises me but I ignore.
“Okay, but I’m keeping this weekend reserved for you, so don’t back out, alright?”
She chuckles softly. “I promise.”
“Bye sweetheart.”
She sighs. “Bye.”
I stare at the phone after I hung it up. I wish it hadn’t been such a battle trying to get her to come round. I’m getting the distinct impression she doesn’t want to be around me and I have no idea what could have started this sudden hatred towards me. What am I saying? Cat's my friend, I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this then necessary.
But I’m still going to refer to this Sean guy as Sean the Shithead.
------------------------------
I wearily pull on my coat, mentally wondering which film I should watch this evening. Sean proved to be a funny, and coincidently good-looking, distraction from my Justin issues and since we didn't have any work to do, we just talked and laughed together for three hours. He’s a cute guy, and I’m still sneaking secret looks at him out of the corner of my eye when I can.
But when Sean isn't distracting me, I'm lost. Justin's all I can think about when Sean and I aren't talking. He's slowly pulled me under and now I'm just drowning in my want for him. A want I know will never be fulfilled, and yet I still got that warm feeling in my stomach when he called me, "sweetheart". The thought of him and that bitch together makes me sick. Fine, fine, I'll call her Natasha.
“Hey, Cat.”
I look up from buttoning my coat to see Sean. “Yeah?”
“I was wondering whether you wanted to go out and get a drink or something tonight?”
My heart does a few spectacular gymnastic jumps in my chest. “Um, what?”
Sean wraps his coat around his broad shoulders and puts his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to go out for a drink? You know, celebrate my first day?”
Part of me says no. Absolutely not. You can’t use this guy to try and make you forget about Justin, it’s not right and it probably won't work.
But the other half takes one look at him and says, “Sure, sounds great.”
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