Page 141 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Pausing to think for a second, Freddy rubbed his chin, a worried look on his face. Before he spoke, a nervous laugh escaped him. “We were just bro-ing, nothing wrong with that. Women talk all the time, that doesn’t make them lesbians.”
“Correct.” I pointed my cup at him and started to walk away.
“I’m not gay,” Freddy called out, another nervous laugh escaping him.
Rolling my eyes, I worked my way back to my cubicle, where I had a framed picture of Rosie next to my computer. I sat in my chair and stared at the picture. She was wearing one of her cute polka-dot dresses; this one was pink with white dots. Her hair was piled on top of her head, random brown wisps framing her beautiful face. She was looking off to the side and there was a gorgeous smile on her face. It was one of my favorite pictures of her because it captured her true spirit. She was the girl I fell in love with in college, and the girl who I was so fucking lucky to call mine now.
Needing to talk to her, I pulled out my phone and sent her a text message.
Henry:Can’t we live on an island of our own where we don’t have to talk to douche-bag coworkers but instead lie in each other’s arms . . . naked?
I moved my mouse to wake up my computer, where another picture of Rosie popped up on the screen. This one was of her and me in Central Park under a giant tree. Warmth spread through me as I took in her beautiful blue eyes staring into the camera. Seriously, the most gorgeous woman you will ever meet.
My phone vibrated against the wood of my desk.
Rosie:Freddy corner you in the kitchen again?
She was in the know about my douche-bag coworker; it was the one complaint I had about my job. If it wasn’t for Freddy, I would have the perfect career, but no one could really have that, could they?
Henry:You guessed it, love. Although, I think I might have given him a complex.
Rosie:Tell him his quads were too small? Did he miss leg day too many times?
I laughed out loud and then remembered I was having a conversation through text. I collected myself and texted her back.
Henry:Ha-ha . . . I fear for my life if I ever say something like that. No, I just asked him if he was gay.
Rosie:There is nothing wrong with gay people.
Henry:I know! But I pointed out the fact that he was overcompensating for something and suggested that maybe he might be gay. When I left, it looked like he was really thinking about it.
Rosie:That would be an unfortunate addition to the gay community if it’s true. From the stories you’ve told me, he seems like a complete putz.
I was about to text her back when I heard my boss’s door open. Quickly stuffing my phone away in my jacket pocket, I opened my inbox and started scanning through emails, looking for important ones to answer first. Heavy footsteps sounded along the lacquered office floors, growing closer and closer to my cube.
“Anderson.” My boss called out my last name, making me cringe.
Popping my head over the wall, I answered him. “Yeah, Eric?”
“See me in my office.” Turning on his heel, he retreated to his corner office and slammed the door.
Fuck, why did I feel like this wasn’t going to be a good conversation? I tried to recount everything I’d done in the past week, scratch that, in the past month, that could possibly get me in trouble. I’d been texting Rosie more at the office, but I couldn’t imagine that was a problem. I thought I was pretty sly about talking to her while at work.
My clients were happy, and I’d been working incredibly well with the creative team, developing some dope ads. The only thing I thought of that could be an issue would involve any kind of association with Freddy.
Nervous, I stood, buttoned my suit jacket, and started to walk toward the corner office. As I walked past the cube farm, Freddy stuck his head up and said, “Dead man walking.” Typical douche remark. I wouldn’t expect anything else from him.
Ignoring the wannabe Terminator, I continued my march until I got to Eric’s door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked and waited for his signal to come in.
With a motion of his hand, I opened the door and shut it quickly, not letting anyone hear the conversation we were about to have.
“Sit,” Eric said, pointing to a chair in front of his glass desk.
Eric’s entire office was outfitted in glass and mirrors; the only things that weren’t glass were his chairs and electronics.Did he have shares in Windex or something?I tried not to overanalyze his decorating style, but a part of me couldn’t help but think how consumed he was with himself. Don’t get me wrong, Eric was a great boss, but no one needed that many mirrors in such a small space.
I noticed a deep crinkle between Eric’s eyes, his forehead was scrunched together, and he didn’t look happy . . . at all.
Eric hired me. I was his intern when I was in college, and once I graduated, I was hired to work for Bentley Advertising, an amazing opportunity I’d been incredibly grateful for, given the hardship for college graduates to find jobs today. From there, I’d worked my way up the ladder to where I had my own clients, I get to share my own ideas, and I only have to answer to one person: Eric.
