She doesn’t say a word.
But when I spot what she’s holding in her hand, she doesn’t have to.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I exhale, stomach roiling for a whole new reason. Skyler is the first to say what I know we’re all thinking.
“Oh, shit.”
Three Months Earlier
OF ALL THE BULLSHIT classes they made me take during my time at Palm South, they never forced one on me called Life After College. And only three months removed from being a student, I’m seriously wondering why that isn’t the number one required credit for every single one of us.
I had no idea how easy I had it, even when it was hard. I didn’t realize how having classes and finals was a piece of cake compared to maneuvering the oversaturated job hunt, how partying on a school night is a hell of a lot easier than partying on a work night, or how that degree doesn’t mean shit once you actually get a job — for your salary or for your day-to-day tasks.
If anything, there should have been a class during every kid’s last semester called Welcome to the Real World, Where You Have Student Loan Debt and a Shitty Salary and a Job You’re Not Actually Prepared for and a Boss Who Expects You To Work Double the Hours Required.
Good Luck!
These are the thoughts that trickle through my mind like a leaky faucet as I eat lunch out of a plastic container in the break room, staring at the calendar on my phone with the list of shit I still have to do when I go back to my cubicle.
It had taken me all damn summer to get a job. It turned out that while I had a degree, my lack of on-the-job experience made me less appealing than those who had internships out the ass. Luckily for me, Erin helped me spruce up my resume, and Ashlei hooked me up with an unpaid internship for a couple months at her firm, working on graphics for her clients.
With a professional portfolio finally under my belt, I landed my first paid gig — Junior Graphic Designer at Sparrow Creative, a young but hungry advertising agency downtown.
As much as the journey to get here sucked, and as much as I’m not thrilled with the salary — even though I was able to negotiate a little higher than they originally offered — I’m thankful to be working, to finally be applying what I learned in school.
But something is… missing.
I thought it was sports. After all, I played all through high school and college, and now I’m a quote, unquote, adult and not a professional athlete. So, I joined a CrossFit gym, thinking that would fill the gap.
And it has, for the most part.
In fact, I’ve become so competitive and so knowledgeable about the culture and the training that the owner at my gym has been whispering in my ear about possibly coming on as a personal trainer or class instructor.
For now, though, I’m content just to train and compete on my own.
And still…
Something’s missing.
I could argue that it’s sex, being that Erin and I have been taking it excruciatingly slow. But that’s been my decision — mostly because I know what she’s been through, what she’s going through, and when I do take her, it’s going to be with nothing but reverence and a cherished understanding of how lucky I am to be the one she trusts to give herself to.
Besides, we’ve been doing plenty of other things that satiate my sexual needs, including me coaching her through sucking my cock, which might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever done in my life — and I’ve had a finger up the asshole, so that’s saying something.
If I’m being honest, that woman is so goddamn hot, all she has to do is kiss me and rub that tight little body against mine and I’m ready to come.
So it’s not the sex, and it’s not the job, and it’s not the lack of physical output.
But still…
Something.
The slam of the microwave snaps me from my thoughts, and I look up just in time to see a longing smile spread on my co-worker’s face.
“God,” she says, shaking her head with her eyes on my food. “That looks so much better than the Lean Cuisine I have. Tell me what it tastes like.” Her eyes flick to mine. “Slowly, so I can savor it.”
I laugh, taking the bite of salmon and asparagus I have stacked on my fork before I set it down. “I won’t submit you to such torture, Giselle.”
She sighs. “I should probably thank you, but maybe I like a little torture from time to time.”
She winks as I shake my head and stack up another bite. “It’s just salmon. You could easily be eating this, too.”