“What are you guys doing over the weekend?” Molly asks as she works.
“Nothing,” Aaron replies. “Hopefully seeing Paul.”
“Me neither.” I sigh.
Molly looks up. “I thought you were going home to see your boyfriend?”
I shrug. “Well, I was supposed to, but I’ve spoken to him for four minutes in total in ten days, and he hasn’t called me once.” I swivel on my chair as I consider my depressing situation.
“God, you need to dump him and move on to Ricardo.”
I roll my eyes. Ricardo works on this floor, and for the last few days he’s been loitering around my desk and making idle chitchat.
“He’s into you,” Molly mutters. “He’s hanging around your desk like a fly.”
“It’s a shame.” I smirk as I watch him talk to someone at their desk. “He’s actually very good looking.” Ricardo’s Italian and has the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing perfected to a tee. Unfortunately, his personality isn’t half as pretty as his face. He’s either making fun of someone or talking about himself in the third person.
“Yuck.” Aaron widens his eyes in disgust. “What would you even talk to him about?”
“You wouldn’t talk to him—you’d stick a ball gag in and fuck him stupid,” Ava says as she watches him. “I bet he’s hung like a horse,” she whispers.
We all burst out laughing. “What are you doing this weekend?” I ask Ava.
“She’ll be chasing rich boys,” Aaron says.
“Damn right.”
My eyes flick to her. “What does that even mean?”
“I hang out at clubs where the men have money.”
“Why?” I frown.
“I am not ending up with a broke loser.”
My mouth falls open in horror. “So . . . you would marry a guy just for money?”
“No.” She shrugs. “Maybe.” She looks up. “Oh no, here he comes,” she whispers.
Ricardo comes over and sits on the corner of my desk. The floor manager has gone home for the day, so he’s not even bothering to pretend to work anymore.
“Hey there.” He smiles.
“Hi,” I reply flatly. Please go away—you’re embarrassing.
“Ricardo wanted to come and check on his favorite coworker.”
I stare at the stupid human being in front of me. “Why do you speak about yourself in the third person?” I ask.
Aaron snickers as he pretends not to listen.
“Ricardo wonders why you never come to his desk to see him.”
“Emily likes to get her work done,” I mutter flatly.
“Oh.” He laughs as he points at me. “Ricardo likes your style, Emily.”
I begin to work, and he stays sitting on the corner of my desk while he rambles, hardly coming up for air. Every now and then the four of us exchange looks, unable to believe what a tool this guy is.