Lola
Excuse me?
Excuse...? I look at my phone.
"Fuck." Then I stare some more, heat burning along my neck and down my spine. "Fuck."
I didn't send it from Alex's number that is in my phone. I sent it from mine.
"Fuck," I say again, for good measure.
Panic starts to beat its wings.
"Enzo, you moron, what did you do?"
I jinxed myself. That is what I did.
I drag in a deep and jagged breath.
Me
Watching you work.
Okay, that is just creepy. Like I spend all day watching her. And fine, I would, but I'm not about to tell her that.
Me
I mean, when I see you. I think you working is amazing.
What fucking year is this? Now I sound like some kind of backward misogynist. Is there any progressive misogynist? I have no fucking idea.
Me
You enjoy it.
I frown.
Weird. That is what that was. Weird.
Me
You seem to enjoy it.
I knew I was right to give you that promotion.
She is just standing there. Staring.
Fuck.
Me
I have been hard on you and pushing you, but only because I can see what you're capable of.
I get up and pick up the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table in my suite. I was working late up here the other night and had a drink. I take off the top and chug.
It is expensive. Right now, it tastes like paint thinner.
Fuck... Still no response.
