I've honestly never heard this tone from Cheryl before and it catches me off guard. Our encounters, up till this point, have been cordial.
I mean, I'm now in a hard place. I'm standing here—just moments from being caught, and I have stolen data on a USB drive hidden inside of my thong. I hid it there right when Cheryl came in. This is an act that can land me in jail.
"This has gotten blown way out of proportion," I say. "I was just searching for an earring. I promise."
Cheryl doesn't say anything further, and instead gives me one last icy stare before turning on her heels and walking back out the door. I also leave. My heart is pounding, and I need to get as far away from this place as possible.
"Well that was close," I hear Walter say in my earpiece. He heard that entire conversation, but I nearly forgot he was there.
I whisper back, in a tone that's barely audible so that no one else can hear me, "Yeah, too fucking close for comfort."
I find my things—my change of clothes, and my purse. I pull my cell phone from my purse to check and see if I have any messages, and as I'm scrolling through, a new text message chimes in.
It's from Simon and reads, "DO U HAVE IT YET?"
First off, I hate it when people type in all caps. Do you know what I mean? It's literally one of my biggest pet peeves—in texts, emails, you name it. It's like they're yelling. I'm not a fucking kid; calm down.
So reading Simon's text instantly irritates me on one hand, and on the other hand, it reminds of the stakes. If I don't get this data to Simon quickly, I'm jeopardizing my life.
Just as I'm about to reply, a second text message chimes in. This time, it's from Ethan. It reads: "I'd like to finish what we started in my office. Want to meet up again?"
I'm instantly torn. If I'm honest, I'd love for nothing more than to be back in Ethan's arms, slowly peeling our clothes off and fucking each other until we can't fuck any more. The minute his text chimed in, my pulse quickened in excitement. It was like getting an extra dose of endorphins.
Shit. What am I even saying? And what am I going to do? Am I falling for Ethan?
I've never had these feelings with other men—it was only when Ethan came into my life …
I look at both texts. Do I tell Simon I have the data he's been looking for? If I tell him, he'll demand the USB right now. And if I hand that data to him, it's over.
But if I don’t hand this data over now, then the assignment continues.
This data becomes obsolete in the next few days as they update the software. Whats in my hand becomes junk.
I’ll never be able to look Ethan in the face again… I think for a moment and click on Simon's text, and I begin typing:
"I'm still working on it."
I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell Simon the truth. Not yet.
I need more time to figure out what's happening. My heart's telling me one thing, and my head's telling me another.
Ethan
You ever had those moments when you just look back on shit and know that you’re fucking happy?
Like you can feel that yes, you are in fact really happy.
Well, as I leave work, that’s the kind of feeling I'm having. As in even navigating from the heart of Times Square isn’t enough to sour my fucking mood. I mean, you’re talking to the guy who usually has his car come and pick him up so he doesn’t have to walk past the teeming throngs of idiots who think this is some sort of holy fucking shrine to come visit and stand in the middle of the sidewalk as they take pictures of overpriced fucking food carts.
Yeah, that wasn’t me tonight.
Tonight I waved to the security guy outside of Illicit Entertainment and walked with a brisk step uptown up 7th Avenue.
Want to know the really best part about One57? The corner gourmet grocery store that sits right as you walk into the lobby. Seriously, I mean I’m talking fucking grocery store right underneath my apartment.
I pause and pick up some vegetables and a few steaks.
What?