Page 6 of Followed By the CEO

I suggest, “The rescue groups are overrun with animals. You should go adopt one if you need companionship.”

The man in the Range Rover nods. “I’ll do that right now.”

I squint at him. “Are you fucking with me?”

He shoves a hand through his tousled hair once again. “Maybe tomorrow. After I’ve had some food and some sleep, and I’m thinking more rationally.”

“Great, see you later.”

I turn and walk to the stairs.

“Have a good night, Mills Mosley.”

I spin around in outrage. “How did you know that?”

“Bank card!” he calls out over the engine’s purr.

The man shifts his car into gear, cranks the wheel, and then leans out the window. “Hayden McAllister, in case you want to stalk me on socials tonight, too.”

I shake my head at the audacity, then head up to my apartment.

Unable to stop myself, I turn when I reach my door and watch his car disappear around the corner.

I put the key in the lock, muttering, “What’s wrong with me, Monster?”

Inside, I find my suitcase sitting on my sofa. It was nice of Peter to bring it upstairs for me.

I set Monster down and he scampers off to get a drink of water while I begin unpacking.

I unzip the case and remove the bag of dirty clothes. As I dump the contents into the washing machine in the hallway closet, I notice my black underwear is missing. I thought I had packed it in case I got my period while on the road, which I hadn’t. But maybe I didn’t pack it after all. Or maybe the TSA has a weirdo on staff who likes to steal underwear. Who knows. I’m too tired to complain about it now.

Monster trots over to his bed. He makes three turns and lies down with a satisfied grunt.

I make an online food order and hit the shower while I wait for my General Tso’s chicken.

While in the shower I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have some human company for dinner and TV time.

But no, this is better. With my luck, that Hayden guy would want to watch sports, and then I’d have to kick him out of my apartment because I am not giving up control of my remote.

With his forearm tattoos, leather bracelet, and white shirt sleeves rolled up, I’ll bet he watches hockey at upscale bars with his friends and tosses back overpriced craft beer like it’s going out of style. He’d probably also be weirdly jealous about what I have to do for the commercial tomorrow. And he’d probably want me to quit comedy. I conclude this for no other reason than that’s what most of my exes wanted. I have a terrible habit of attracting men who are deeply ill-suited for me.

But I’ve grown since the last relationship. I’m in a much better place and strong enough to set boundaries and claim what I want. I refuse to lose my passion and my personality for a man. Someone as forward as Hayden McAllister is definitely the “my way or the highway” kind of guy. I just know it.

Being alone is far better. Besides, my stock is rising, and I don’t want anyone holding me back—not a guy who judges me for the gigs I accept. I need to be well rested, on my game, and free of anyone getting judgy or weird about it.

I don’t need that.

Being alone and free to do what I want is much better.

My food arrives, and I don my favorite sweatpants and spread out on the sofa. Monster sniffs the air and goes back to sleep.

Clicking on the TV, I am bummed when I realize what day it is and there aren’t any new episodes of VPR. Dammit. A Jax & Brittany Take Kentucky rewatch it is. God… it’s so bad, it’s wonderful.

I pick up my phone and text my brother.

Me: Guess what I’m watching.

Owen: Turn that crap off. Not everyone from Kentucky is like that.

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