“I’ll talk to you later then?” He posed it as a question. I nodded and he walked out of the breakroom, thankfully not prolonging the awkward.
“Wow. First Lucas Bradley, now Phil. You sure get around.”
Were Clara and Libby just hanging around listening to my every conversation?
They stood in the doorway with sour expressions on their faces. Clearly they weren’t joining the Morgan Carter fan club any time soon. Though I couldn’t figure out what I had done to shit all over their day.
“Now ladies, no need to be jealous,” I quipped. Normally I was slow with the comebacks. I was proud of myself for thinking on my feet.
“Jealous? Of being a slag? I don’t think so,” Libby snapped, turning on her heel and walking away.
Clara smirked. “The thing is we Brits have long memories. And once a reputation is made, it’s hard to unmake it. Though I guess you Americans like to play fast and loose with morals.”
I straightened my shoulders and looked my suddenly contentious co-worker in the eyes. “And Americans don’t put up with crap from anyone. Particularly insecure jerks who can’t mind their own business.”
Clara huffed under her breath and followed her friend.
Just great. All I needed was to make enemies.
I quickly walked back to my desk. I really did feel as though people were looking at me. I never liked being the center of attention. It made me clammy and uncomfortable.
I remember once as a kid deciding I wanted to perform in my elementary school talent show reciting a poem. I forgot the lines and stood on stage while my classmates laughed at me. Even after all these years I remembered the horror of being watched. Of being talked about. Of being ridiculed.
So I tended to avoid any and all situations where the focus was on me. Which was difficult given that I was now a foreigner in a land far from home.
I sat down at my desk, ready to get into my day. But there was something I needed to do first.
I opened my browser and typed Lucas Bradley’s name in the search engine. The articles detailing Friday night were near the top. Right under a few stories speculating about his possible transfer to other football clubs.
I hesitated clicking.
But of course I did.
I was a glutton for punishment.
And there was the grainy photograph of me holding onto Lucas. Another that to a casual eye would look as though we were making out with Alan watching us when really I was trying to hold him upright and my face was turned away from whoever was taking the picture.
There was another picture of Alan and me putting Lucas in the cab. I was leaning over Lucas and Alan was right behind me. It did look questionable but in truth was completely innocent.
The whole thing was embarrassing. I hoped Charlie and Phil were right that it would all blow over soon enough.
But I also wondered about Clara’s statement about Brits and their long memories. Would I now be known as the slutty American girl?
Wow, my mother would be so proud.
I started on one of the dozens of tasks I had for the day. I wasn’t an IT nerd by any stretch of the imagination. It was something I had taken to in college. I had been able to snag a good internship during my senior year with a good-sized tech firm doing project management.
I had done well in that role so I had figured this job would be easy.
I had learned very quickly how wrong I was. I was having a hard time getting a handle on things. I had always considered myself savvy when it came to navigating systems, but I was struggling.
The timelines I had been given seemed impossible and my boss was a micromanaging tight ass. I wasn’t sure the man ever smiled. I checked the time. I had to meet with Mr. Tight Ass himself in five minutes.
I hurried to his office, hoping rather belatedly that he didn’t follow football gossip. Could that be what this meeting was about?
Oh shit.
Peter was behind his computer, frowning at the screen when I arrived. He was an older man with thinning hair and thick black-framed glasses. His mouth was turned down and by the deep lines in his forehead it was apparent that was a normal expression.
