Page 2 of Exchange of Heart

He’d been claiming my things for too many months now, so I sucked in a calming breath to rein in my frustration. I wouldn’t allow my sanity to be a trophy on his shelf along with the chair I’d wanted that he sat in every Monday.

‘Can’t you just go somewhere else?’ He took an enormous bite.

‘Why are you even here? Don’t you work on the other side of the city?’ My lips stretched into a poor attempt at a smile.

My brain wasn’t tricked by the fake smile though, and heat simmered in my belly at the thought of him in his fancy office by the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

‘I had a meeting down the road and my assistant’s off sick today,’ he said.

Those words did nothing more than confirm his entitlement. I imagined that while I suffered through two nights in a row of bland pasta, he guzzled champagne and chomped on wagyu.

‘How unfortunate for you, to be forced to fetch your own meal.’ I gazed at his half-eaten hotdog with dreamy eyes and licked my lips to catch the drool threatening to drip from my salivating mouth.

‘If it means that much to you, you can have the rest if you want.’ His hand transformed into a pedestal presenting a treasure.

I ripped my gaze from the offering. ‘Why are you even eating a cheap hotdog? Shouldn’t you be in a café yelling at waiters after finding a speck of dust on the white linen tablecloth?’

Corey choked on a mouthful and hammered his fist against his exceptionally large chest. ‘You really think I’d yell at someone over a speck of dust?’

I considered it for a moment, then imagined him barking orders at his poor assistant to fetch him a barista-made coffee. ‘Of course not. You’d probably get your assistant to do it for you, so you don’t hurt your delicate vocal cords.’

‘Geez, Nora. I might have money, but I also have manners.’

I snorted, ‘Could have fooled me.’

A light breeze wafted the scent of the hotdog into the air, sparking my brain with the reminder of what could have been. The hangry beast inside of me had no patience or understanding for the need to maintain composure, transforming my usually pleasant face into a scowling troll. If I didn’t leave now, I’d tackle Corey to the ground and wrestle the damn food from his oversized hands.

‘Well, enjoy your luxury,’ I muttered.

Corey opened his mouth, but I turned from the hotdog thief and clinked my stilettos up the path before he could get another word out.

Six closed cafés and two sold-out food stalls later, a sad sandwich inside a display window barely held itself together, like a visual representation of me. Could get the job done but might fall apart in the process. With nowhere else open, I paid for the sandwich and unwrapped it during my walk of shame back to the office. Pungent crumbles of curried egg toppled out between the slices of yellowing bread, and my stomach churned at the repulsive smell. Deciding I’d rather eat the expired crackers in the bottom of my desk drawer, I threw the stale bread into the closest bin and followed the pavement back to work with defeat weighing down my empty stomach.

I plucked my phone from my bag and dialled Hayley.

‘Did you get it, did you get it?’ she squealed.

Hunger took a back seat in my brain as I thought about the news to come this afternoon. ‘They haven’t told us yet,’ I said. ‘But by the end of the day, I’m sure I’ll be the new Senior Data Analyst at Dreyton Marketing, overlooking the Sydney Opera House from my very own office.’ I grinned at the thought of affording avocados and blueberries.

‘And you’ll be able to hang your new diploma in there.’

I grimaced. ‘Speaking of my finance diploma, I just ran into Corey.’

‘Oh, yes. How is your mortal enemy?’ Hayley said dreamily, refusing to believe in anything more than fairytales and love.

‘Still a rich asshole.’ I paused outside the lobby and closed my eyes. ‘And he took my hotdog.’

‘Like, from your hands?’ She finally sounded appalled by him.

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘He bought the last one before I got there.’

Hayley stayed silent, likely thinking I should cut Corey some slack, but I couldn’t do that while there’s still a significant gender and class pay gap. There’s no way a rich guy studying the same degree as me yet working as a finance manager deserved any slack. Especially considering the day I met him he introduced himself with his job title. I mean, what a cocky douche!

I sighed. ‘Men like that are the reason women can’t get ahead. They act like they can get the job done better, all because they’ve got money and a penis.’ I pressed eight in the elevator and flicked my long, black hair off my shoulders. ‘Anyway, I guess I should head back to work.’

‘I’m rooting for your empty bank account and lack of penis. We’ll get coffee before Pilates tomorrow morning to celebrate your promotion.’

‘Can’t wait, bye!’