Second, the coffee jar was empty. I’m heading to work uncaffeinated. The absolute worst way to begin your workday.
Third, I burnt my dress with the iron and didn’t have time to switch my outfit.
Fourth, the bus I catch to work was late.
Seriously?
The universe is conspiring against me.
I’m like 99 percent sure I’m going to see Owen today. This is not the day for the universe to zone in on me.
As I leave the bus, I step straight into a puddle of water caused by the rain we had last night. The water splashes all over my dress, not just my shoes.
“Mother-effer,” I mutter under my breath. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my thoughts.
You will have a good day.
You will have a good day.
You will have a good fucking day.
My phone sounds with a text, cutting in on my positive thinking. Not that you could really call it that, because I’m not feeling any more positive than I was before I began chanting to myself.
Owen: Where are you?
Oh, God. The one day I’m late, he notices. And suddenly the thoughts slam into me.
He’s your goddam boss. What the hell are you doing contemplating a relationship with him? It can only end badly. Probably with you out on your ass, unemployed again.
I take another deep breath.
Nope, does nothing.
Another one.
Come on, help a girl out. I’m trying here.
Another breath.
Fuck, I need this job. Probably more than I need sex with Owen.
Owen: Charlize?
Good Lord, the man is persistent.
Me: I’m sorry. I’m late. I’ve had the morning from hell. Almost at work now.
Owen: Come straight to my office when you get here.
Shit.
Is this because I’m late or because he wants to check out my panties again?
I pick up my pace.
Me: OK
Screw you, universe. Either I’m going to be fired or I’ve missed out on time I could have spent with Owen’s hands and mouth on me. And it’s all your fault.