Best Friend's Ex Box Set

I tapped down the hallway, feeling light as air. It seemed that so much had fallen off my shoulders in the previous day. It was incredible. I knocked on the Oval Office door, and a Secret Service agent opened the door before leaving the office himself. He left Xavier and I alone in the well-lit, luxurious office. I brought my hands over my flat stomach and peered toward him, a bit of laughter on my cheeks.

“Hello, Amanda,” he said. “Please. Sit down.” He gestured with his strong, stoic arm toward the chair before his desk.

I leaned down, smiling at him in such a girlish way. I couldn’t stop myself.

Xavier brought his fingers together, lacing them. “I’d like to talk to you about Jason,” he said finally. His words were deep.

I nodded. “I noticed he disappeared yesterday,” I said, clearing my throat.

“Right. I told him to take the day to compose himself, to come back today fully ready to proceed with the campaign.” Xavier leaned forward in his chair and he tapped at the desk before me with his firm fingers. “Listen, Amanda. He won’t be bothering you anymore. Right now, I have three Secret Service agents—who are specifically trained in security—searching through your apartment to find the hidden cameras. If it’s there, they’ll find it.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking about my apartment once more. My lonely, luxurious apartment. I swallowed. “Thank you, Xavier. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened yesterday during your meeting with—with Jason?” I remembered Jason’s face, so splotched with red, so withdrawn.

Xavier turned his head toward his desk. He paused before answering. “I am simply a very persuasive person, Amanda. You have to know that about me by now.”

I bit my lip. “You didn’t persuade me to do anything,” I told him, my voice stern.

“Well. You’re different from everyone else,” Xavier said, laughing. “Essentially, Jason didn’t want you to tell me anything about the photographs because he knew I could shut him down instantly, like that.” He snapped his fingers with such efficiency. “He knows that I’m a powerful force, someone who can ruin him.”

I swallowed, trying to imagine the conversation. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that if he wanted to continue his political work at the White House—in any fucking capacity—then he had to forget about the photographs. He had to forget entirely about the affair, about blackmailing you, about all of it. If he didn’t want his entire life to be ruined—and to rot in jail for many, many decades—then he had to turn in the USB. He had to sign an affidavit declaring that these were the only copies of the photographs he had.” Xavier cleared his throat. “He seemed—generally upset. If you saw him yesterday, he went a bit crazy when he learned that I knew about his blackmailing. He started smacking his face, tugging at his shirt. He started having a sort of panic attack. He’s not strong, mentally. Not like you.”

I blushed, feeling entirely content in that moment. I couldn’t believe it had all worked out—that Xavier had threatened Jason with such force. I brimmed with rays of happiness. “So. It’s over?” I whispered.

Xavier nodded, bringing his hands out before him. “It appears to be over. It seems that you’re free of this terror. You can return to your home, to your life without fear.”

I felt a single tear stride down my cheek. I stood up, suddenly, and twirled to the other side of the desk. I flung my arms around Xavier, feeling his beating heart just a few layers of cloth beyond my own. I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you, Xavier.” My salty tears met with his face.

He laughed for a moment, allowing me to pull back from him. He rubbed at my back, at my thin waist. He shook his head. “It was my pleasure.”

I twirled a bit in his arms, sending him flirty looks. “Does this mean we’re in the clear?” I whispered to him. “I mean. Jason knows to stay away. Even your wife knows about us. We can—we can be with each other, in this sort of soft secret, for as long as we like?”

He nodded, smiling. “Baby. We can do whatever we like, now.”

I laughed and kissed him deeply in that moment. I felt the warmth emanating fr

om his body, from his mind. He allowed me to sit on his lap, rubbing at his tense shoulders. He peered up at me, blinking his big, black eyes. “You don’t want to celebrate tonight, do you?”

I thought for a moment, picking a piece of lint from Xavier’s suit—as I’d seen Camille do, just a few days before. It was my privilege, then. Our intimacy was great. “I’d love to celebrate.”

“Good. Good,” Xavier answered. “Camille’s gone for the day, and we can have the whole place to ourselves. A few more hours of work. And we’ll meet back here.” He gestured around his office.

I kissed him once more before fleeing from his office, a sense of excitement, of zeal coursing through me. Every limb on my body felt so fluid, so light. “In a few hours, Mr. President,” I whispered to him before rushing from the Oval Office and back toward my office.

At my desk for the rest of the day, I peered around the room, unable to believe what was happening—and fully allowing the happiness of the moment to glide over me, unaffected by anything else. I knew that this daydream-y state was a fully-formed version of love. I’d heard about it, read about it. Certainly. But I had never experienced it so strongly. I heard a woman in the corner whisper to her friend. “God, Amanda looks happy. She looks like I did after Jeffrey and I banged the other day.”

“I hope she’s getting some,” the other friend said. “She’s hot. She deserves it.”

I laughed, loving these words as they swept toward me. So strange, to hear yourself spoken about. So strange to be a leader of an entire campaign trail—with a great year ahead of you. However, I was up to the task. I was the appropriate person for the position. I would yield incredible strategies to ramp up votes, to maintain Xavier’s stance in the Oval Office. He was My President. And thus, I would keep him where he belonged.

After several hours, people began to peter out from the building, gliding back to their sad, dismal Washington D.C. apartments in this late October. Half-heartedly, I realized that it was nearly Halloween. I waved goodbye to several of the younger staff members, each of them nearly skipping out into the world. They weren’t made for this schedule yet; their youth and vitality hadn’t been burned from them as readily. Not yet. I hoped it never would.

Finally, I was the only one in the grey office. Even Jason had gone, dragging his feet down the hallway and allowing his briefcase to bounce against his legs.

I stood and walked toward the Oval, unbuttoning my blazer as I went. I tossed it onto the white couch in the Oval Office, standing in just my sheer, white button-up and my tight, grey skirt. Before me, the president smiled up at me, a pen in his hand. He signed his signature jauntily, and then he burst from the shackles of his desk. He brought his hand around my back and met his lips with mine, bending me back lightly for a passionate kiss in the dying light of the late October day. “Shall we?” he whispered.

I followed him down the hall, our hands nearly touching. The White House hallways were completely empty, giving me an eerie feeling in my gut. But soon, we had arrived at the White House movie theater. He led me to the front row, setting me up comfortably in a long, leaning chair. He held a finger up to his lips, alerting me that he’d be gone for just a moment. He appeared back with a large bowl of popcorn, with two glasses of wine. I held my hand open and accepted the wine. We clinked the glasses together. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment completely.