I walked out of the restaurant ahead of him, not speaking. He was my boss, sure, but right now, that wasn’t the positions we held.
Thanking the hostess before I left, I beelined for his car in the parking lot. I wasn’t entirely sure which one it was, so I was more than a little thankful when he unlocked it and the flashing lights confirmed I was correct.
I got in the passenger side, with Cameron following me on the driver’s side only seconds later. He hadn’t even tried to get my door, so apparently he was smarter than I gave him credit for.
I didn’t say a word as we drove. Neither did he. The silence was tight and uncomfortable, and I made sure I never made eye contact with him throughout the whole thing.
I was humiliated.
Completely and utterly humiliated.
It was just one more thing to add to my list to mistakes, and I was sure that tomorrow, I’d get to add my job to it, too.
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be a functioning fucking adult? Of all the men in the world, I had to feel this way about my boss.
My fucking boss.
Anger bubbled inside me. I could feel it, twisting and turning as it flooded my body with heat. The last thing I wanted was for my cheeks to flush in case Cameron thought it was about it, but it was inevitable.
I wasn’t a pretty angry person.
The difference here was that I had to keep my temper if I wanted any chance of keeping my job. I knew he’d probably fire me tomorrow, but it was what it was.
I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t change it. I could only accept it.
Which was what I did as Cameron pulled up outside my house.
Without giving him a chance to speak, I unbuckled my belt and threw out a quick, “Thank you for dinner,” as I shoved my way out of the car.
I wanted to wrestle my way inside. I wanted to lock the door and run to my room, locking that door, too. Then I wanted to kick off my shoes, dump my purse, and throw myself onto my bed to cry.
Not because I was sad or heartbroken or anything. Crying was the ultimate stress relief, and I was faced with a situation I’d been in so many times before: being fired.
All I wanted was to move back out and get my life under control. I wanted to find love and keep it and not set anything on fire or cause any natural disasters in the process.
So I did just what I wanted to.
I went inside, bypassed my family entirely, and disappeared into my room, where I locked the door, took off my shoes, and screamed into my pillow until I cried.
And you know what?
I felt damn good doing it.
***
With my humiliation all cried out, the next morning, I dressed to conquer the world.
Well, not entirely. I was reasonably sure I’d need some form of weapon, and I probably wasn’t the best person to entrust a deadly weapon to.
Instead, I wore my second-best dress which happened to be a little black number that gave me the confidence of a thousand witches ready to rise against humanity. Paired with the heels I’d worn at the weekend and a red blazer, I slicked my signature red lipstick onto my lips.
Then, I looked into the mirror, nodded, and prepared to take on the world just as I’d intended.
The world wasn’t really the subject, but a hot guy was most definitely just as tricky.
I arrived at work twenty minutes early so I could get myself sorted. A glance at the calendar on the computer told me I had two hours until Cameron arrived at the office, and I was going to use them to be the most efficient fucking assistant his ass had ever seen.
Starting with his desk.
I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a trash bag, and went into his office. The information was all so outdated, and his drawers were full of crap, so I busied myself sorting out everything in the room until I was satisfied it was up to the current year’s standard.
I’d probably still missed something, but I’d been successful all the same.
I tied up the trash bag and left it in the corner of the kitchen before I headed back to my desk. I slipped my heels back on and got back to work.
I was already dreading when he got to the office. There was no way we could carry on like usual, and all I could hope for was that I didn’t get fired.
I had big dreams.
Not.
I had a nervous tick. A bad one. Of tapping my right heel every few seconds, like my leg was hitched up to some kind of electrical resource.
Taptaptaptap.
It didn’t stop until Cameron’s familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs. Then, I froze, turning my body toward the computer and making sure not to look in his direction.