Fling (Wrong 2.5)

“So you’ve been busy,” he starts, squeezing a lemon wedge into a glass of ice water.

“Super busy.” I nod and fidget with my watch. Maybe I can get away with just talking about work? “I’ve been working on the TPS reports all morning. You know they take forever to do correctly. And I’m off Friday for Marissa’s wedding so I’ve got to finish them before then.”

“And Gabe fucked you on his desk,” he continues like I haven’t said a word.

“He did not,” I say, but I’m a terrible liar so I shift my gaze away and scrunch my nose up.

“He fucked you on the couch in his office? You straddled him on his desk chair? He took you from behind while you were standing with your hands pressed against the window?” He opens his napkin and shakes it out before laying it across his lap. “I know something happened in there.”

“I, um. It wasn’t quite like that.” That’s not a total lie, right? I unwrap my own straw and stuff it into my glass, tapping the top with my fingertip.

“Oral then?” Preston asks without even blinking.

“Preston!” I slap a hand across my eyes while he laughs.

“So what’s the problem? He didn’t make you come? He shot his load in your hair? I’ve been there, honey, that’s a deal-killer, I get it.”

“Stop!” I drop my hand, shake my head at him, then bring him up to speed with everything that’s happened since I saw him before Christmas.

“Again, what’s the problem? Sounds like a good time to me.” Our sandwiches have arrived and Preston digs in with gusto. “Nooners. Quickies on the copy machine. Trysts in the executive conference room.”

“It’s inappropriate,” I remind him.

“Appropriate things are rarely fun.”

“I can’t…” I shrug and try to find the right words. “I just can’t get invested into something with him that’s not real,” I say, then pause again before summoning the courage to say the words out loud. “I like him, Preston. Like I really like him. I know it’s stupid and seems like a silly crush, but I like him. I’ve liked him for a long time, and I don’t want to get hurt if he’s just having fun with me.”

“Why are you assuming it can’t be something real? He seems sort of taken with you.”

“Does he?” I question. “I’m not sure.”

“He does. If you’re worried that he’s going to leave you for your best friend, you can rest assured. Gabe is not interested in me.”

“Well, that is reassuring. Thank you,” I say, even though Preston is kidding.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not your fault that your ex dumped you for your best friend?”

“I don’t know, but I’m hoping it will be less than a hundred.”

“Sandy.”

“It feels a little bit like it’s my fault.” I shrug. “How did I surround myself with two such awful people?”

“Don’t give that to them.

Don’t let them hold you back from your happiness because of their shitty behavior. That’s on them, not you.”

I sigh. “You’re right.”

“Or do you think Gabe doesn’t like you because he bolted on New Year’s Eve before the cum was dry?”

“Oh, my God, Preston.” I’m sure I’m blushing a thousand shades of pink. “Stop.”

“It sounded like he liked you enough for a repeat in his office on Monday,” he continues anyway.

I throw my napkin at him to shut him up and he laughs, but I think about Gabe as we walk back to the office. Am I selling myself short thinking that Gabe is only interested in a secret fling? I think about it. A lot.

Nine

Gabe

Why the fuck is she going out with Dave on Friday? It’s ridiculous. What is he giving her that I’m not? She can’t be fucking him. I mean she could—we haven’t even quantified what is happening between us, so it’s possible. It’s just not likely. All the blushing when I touch her. The lack of condoms at her apartment. And I know even thinking it makes me a dick, but she doesn’t seem like the type to sleep with more than one guy in the same week. So no, I don’t think she’s having sex with Dave.

He is a lawyer. That’s probably appealing to women, right? But I’m the chief financial officer of a multibillion-dollar corporation. That trumps lawyer, doesn’t it? Hell, he’s not even the head of legal, not even close. How long has that guy worked here anyway? I open a browser on my desktop and access the company employment files. Dave Harcourt, twenty-five, a year younger than Sandra. He graduated from law school last spring and started working here a month after. He’s probably still in debt from school. Fuck, what kind of dick am I for even thinking about this?

I should take her out. Dave’s taking her out; I should stop having sex with her at the office and take her out on a date. Now how do I get sweet Sandra to agree to date me?

I drum my fingers on my desk. I think she’s been avoiding me all week. She disappeared on Monday after the liaison in my office and it’s been cloak-and-dagger ever since. I could pull her phone number from the company database and start sexting her, but I think that might freak her out.

I want to take her to dinner, somewhere nice, and maybe a show. I should woo her, take her to New York City for the weekend. Pull out all the stops and convince her to give me a chance. Because I want to be with Sandra. I fucking like Sandra. And I’m a goddamned idiot for thinking a fling with her would be enough.

I’ll start with lunch. Today. It doesn’t hurt that her date with Dave is tonight. I’ll take her to lunch and make sure I’m all that’s on her mind tonight. I glance at the clock as I punch in her extension and wait for her to pick up, but it rings through to voicemail. Shit, I don’t want to miss her, so I push back from my desk and stand. I’ll have to do a casual walk past her desk and try to catch her.

Preston’s desk is outside my office. I pause as I’m walking past. She has lunch with him most days.