Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Holy. Shit.
Our eyes were locked the whole time and I felt like I’d just violated the innocence of the group of teen girls who I now noticed were staring at us with wide eyes and slack jaws.
I cleared my throat and ran my tongue across my lips, shifting a little uncomfortably as my freaking vagina started pounding down the door to my brain and asking if she could take it for a little joyride. No, Vagina. You are not getting anywhere near my brain when Dominic is involved, because we both know exactly where that joyride would take us.
“That’s good,” I finally managed. The truth was I had no idea what the ice cream tasted like. I’d been transported to full blown bliss-town because my boss was spoon feeding me while making erotic eye contact.
If a little bite of ice cream from him was this arousing, I frankly wasn’t even sure I would survive a sexual encounter.
“You still have some,” he said, pointing.
I rubbed at my lip a few times and Dominic shook his head. He finally leaned over the table and rubbed his thumb down the side of my mouth. I thought he was about to suck the ice cream from his finger and I would’ve officially melted into a puddle of horny desire right then and there, but he snatched up a napkin and rubbed his finger clean.
I felt like I could finally breathe again. “So we’re both attracted to each other but we’re not going to do anything about it?” I asked. “Just making sure I’m clear on the plan, here.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Why would it be?”
“The look on your face says it might be a problem.”
“It’s not.”
“Good.”
“Great,” I agreed. When I couldn’t think of what to say next, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind. “Did you look at my pitch yet?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I don’t think it fits the new vision I have for the magazine.”
I felt gutted. That pitch was my creative baby. It was going to be a weekly piece on under-utilized scholarship programs for students. I still owed my brief stint at Columbia to a lesser known scholarship I’d won. My future hadn’t exactly played out the way I expected, but I knew that scholarship was the reason I’d even had a shot at something big. I wanted to find similar opportunities and give exposure to them every week. It’d be a resource for parents to inform their kids and it might even bring more attention to the scholarships themselves and help increase their funding.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
“It’s too local. I want The Squawker to be national and eventually international.”
“Local? There are students all over the country who could benefit if you let me write that piece. And international students are a thing, too.”
“I’m not here to argue about it, Darcy. I’m your boss and I made a decision.”
“Yeah, a shitty one.” Just like that, I was seething with rage.
“That’s enough.” Dominic stood and threw his napkin down.
I felt a huge lump in my throat as I watched him go. For a few flickering moments, it felt like something was starting to form between us. I had no idea what I would’ve called it–a bond, chemistry, or even just mutual respect–but with a snap of his fingers, Dominic had ended it.
One of the teens made me jump with surprise when she suddenly plopped down across from me. She had heavy-handed eye makeup like little wings and wore about a gallon of lip gloss. “Oh. My. God. Who was that guy? Is he your boyfriend? Or is he like, your dad or something? Because if he’s your dad–”
“We’re the same age,” I snapped.
“So he’s like thirty?”
“I’m twenty-five!” I half-shrieked. I didn’t know why I was suddenly so riled up.
The girl pulled her head back, lips pursed. “Like, okay. Twenty-five, thirty, what’s the difference? So if you two aren’t together, could you get me his number?”
I decided it wouldn’t be very mature of me to dump the watery remains of my icecream over her head. I settled for a tight, very non-genuine smile, and rushed outside.
Then my dumb ass remembered Dominic had given me a ride. He was leaning on his car, waiting for me with crossed arms.
“Temporary truce?” he asked once he saw me coming out.
“No,” I said. “The war is still on.”
He chuckled, then pulled the door open for me. Just as I was about to get in, he slammed it closed and gave me an obnoxious little wink. “Game on, then.” He walked to his side of the car with his hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face.
Asshole.
16
DARCY
I had cooled off after my little ice cream date. A warm shower, a little self care, and a few days to let things settle was all it took. At work, we were both pretending nothing had happened. Sort of, at least. There was a brief but heated email exchange the day after the ice cream incident. It started when he sent me the following: