The Boss Crush

Pulling my purse higher on my shoulder, I follow behind her. There are people milling about, walking in and out of doorways, heads down in folders, eyes smiling as they talk to some invisible person in their ear.

“You’re right over here.” Giada stops just before the door and holds out the folders. “This is yours for today.” Pointing further down the hall, she says, “There’s a break room with a coffee pot and fridge, a microwave, and other stuff you might need in the last door on the end to your right. And don’t hesitate if you need anything, I’m extension four.”

“Thanks,” I say, thumbing the folders, and glancing inside.

When I look up, she’s gone before I can say another word, already halfway back to her desk. I stand idle for a moment, just trying to grasp this new life I have. My own office, at my dream job, for a very reputable company.

I’ve made it. I’ve finally made it.

Opening the door, I step inside, and stop in my tracks.

You’ve got to be fucking with me?

Is this some type of sick joke?

Leaning against my desk is a woman I know all too well, Sandy Vox. She has the same dirty blonde hair, the same thin face with sharp cheekbones, and the same shitty frown I remember from high school.

Moving my eyes to the other figure by the window, my heart stops inside my chest.

It’s Lyle, her twin brother. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Vox Design. . . How did I not put two and two together?

It didn’t click in my brain when I applied online or came for my interview. Not once did either of them cross my mind when I saw the company name.

The brother and sister duo are the epitome of my fucking nightmares. Sandy the bully, and Lyle, my high school crush, who left me behind all those years ago.

What the fuck is happening right now?

Sandy glares at me with hard eyes, the same angry eyes she’s always had. “You’re late,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest as she tips her chin up.

My eyes move from her to Lyle, then back to her. I don’t know if I should smile and introduce myself, or if she’s having flashbacks of her own right now.

Lyle shifts away from the window, his movements easy and relaxed. Then he notices me, like really notices me. Stopping in his tracks, he sucks in a quick breath of air. I watch him as he freezes, his chest, arms and legs, all staying nervously still.

Does he recognize me?

Does she recognize me?

I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t know if either of them remembers me at all. The look on her face says no. The way she’s holding herself, the way her eyes have no depth or recognition.

I’m sure if she did, she would have busted out laughing, maybe thrown some of her horrible nicknames for me out, then fired my ass.

But Lyle, Lyle’s eyes are different. He’s not just looking at me, he sees me. His cobalt blue eyes are bright as the sky and deep as the ocean. I’m trapped in them, falling hard and fast.

My heart flutters with the same energy it used to when I was a teenager, when my feelings for him controlled the pace of my heart and woke up the butterflies in my stomach.

“This is not the way you want to start with our company—to be honest, it’s fucking terrible—” Sandy leans her face closer, her brows crinkling into her nose. “Do you even know who I am?” Her jaw hangs to the side as she glares at me. “I own this fucking place.” Her head jerks on her shoulders as she points a finger at the floor. “Every wall, every room, every piece of furniture here belongs to me. And now you, you belong to me, too, for as long as you work here. But how long? Well…” she throws her arms out to the side, knocking a cup loaded with pens to the floor. “That’s all up to.”

Sandy glances down at the pens, then back up to me. I tilt my head, unsure what she expects me to do. I’m certainly not going to clean up her mess, that’s not what I’m here for. I wasn’t hired as her maid.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I kick my leg out, and clear my throat, angling my chin higher. I’m not that shy little girl anymore who’s just going to bow down because she gives me the stink eye.

I have a backbone.

Taking a step closer to me, she kicks a few of the pens with the tip of her shoe, sending them rolling across the floor.

“Do you want this job? Like, really want this job. . .” she’s fumbling with her words, searching for something, and suddenly it hits me. I know what she’s looking for—my name.