“Nope. It’s how you roll. I take that back,” she snickers, “it’s unless you were getting all hot and sweaty with Bossman. In that case, I want every detail. Do not leave anything out.”
Rolling onto my mat face-first, I pretend to stretch out my lower back. It does feel good, but it actually gives me time to figure out how to keep my face blank around Joy.
I could tell her about Graham. If it were anyone else, no doubt I would. I always have. But this time, I want to keep it for me. This time, it feels . . . different.
I’m not sure what it is, although it certainly doesn’t feel like just sex. Not quite. Sex is insertion. An act and then it’s done. It’s not walks to my car. He could have me without the little looks during the day, without taking the trash out of my floorboard. But what does that mean? I have no idea.
“How did things go today?” she asks. She’s prodding for information, the tone in her voice giving her away. “Anything new with Graham?”
“No, nothing’s new with Graham,” I sigh. “He’s my boss, Joy.”
“So something did happen!”
“What on Earth are you talking about?”
“You’re defensive. The last time we talked about this, you were all, ‘He’s so hot!’ Now you’re acting like I’m ridiculous for bringing it up. That means you’re deflecting.”
Heaving a breath, I roll onto my back and look at the spackled ceiling in desperate need of a paint job. “Things haven’t been purely professional,” I admit.
“I knew it!” she shrieks. “My God. Is he as good as I think he is? He is, isn’t he?”
“Joy . . .” I almost whine. I feel like she’s forcing me to talk and I hate that. “Can we not talk about this?”
“Why?”
Struggling to sit up, I try to come up with an explanation that she can understand. That I can understand. “Have you ever not wanted to talk about something until you can get your head wrapped around it?”
“No,” she mutters. “I always call you and have you help me figure it out.”
I toss her a pathetic smile. “I know. I do you too. But I don’t know what to make of this and I’m really afraid getting your input is going to make it harder.”
“I give good advice.”
“You do,” I laugh. “But everything when it comes to him is pro-Graham. I don’t fault you for it. Look at him,” I shrug. “But I need to make sure I’m looking at this pro-Mallory. Does that make sense?”
Joy grabs her water bottle and squeezes some in her mouth. “It does. But you know I’m pro-Mallory, right?”
“Always.” I stand and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to the bathroom before everyone gets here.”
Jogging across the mats and through the doors to a vacant hallway, I stand with my back against the cool brick. My mind goes to Graham, like it does anytime I’m not specifically thinking of something else.
I like him. I like him way more than I want to admit. Even more problematic, the more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him.
But am I getting jaded by the TDH—tall, dark, and handsome? Am I wrapped up in the Landry spell and not seeing things like a logical human being?
He’s my boss. A CEO. I’m a drop-out with no plan. What could possibly come of this long-term? Not much. Besides orgasms.
There’s nothing wrong with having fun with Graham. We’re two consenting adults. But I need to remember that no matter how easy it is to become infatuated with him, I have to keep my head clear. I can’t get wrapped up in this and then be gobsmacked when it doesn’t work out. There’s nothing to work out. This is fun. Just fun.
“What are you doing out here?”
I look up to see Sienna propping the door open with her hip. “Hey,” I say, shoving off the wall. “I was just taking a couple of minutes to regroup. Joy can be kind of overwhelming.”
“She really can. I love her to absolute pieces, but she just attacks!” she laughs. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I was just thinking,” I say, going through the open door and leading Sienna to our mats. “After I figure everything out, I think I want to start my own yoga studio.”
“I think that could be cool,” Sienna says. “It’s a big thing in LA. You know, you could always head West and come live with me. Free rent. Free food because my mom orders groceries to be delivered to my house. Is that not crazy?”