Page 54 of Losing Control
The office door springs open, surprising me so much that I drop my sandwich in my lap.
“Bollocks,” I say to myself as I scoop up the food and place it on top of the sandwich bag that sits in front of me on my desk. I look up, ready to scold the person who made me jump, but my breath is taken away by the sight of Cal standing there.
Shit.
Fuck.
He can’t be here.
Why is he here?
Michael can’t see him.
I can’t see him.
This is bad.
Bad, bad, bad.
I struggle to control my breathing as Cal rushes to my desk and kneels down in front of me.
“Lucy,” he says softly, his hand reaching for my cheek. As his fingers brush against my skin, I jolt back.
“What are you doing here?” I say harshly.
“I needed to see you.” I can hear the desperation in his voice and see it on his face. It almost breaks my fucking soul.
“Why?” I ask on a whisper.
“To make sure that you were okay.”
“Well, now that you can see that I am perfectly fine, you may leave,” I reply, my voice stronger than a second ago. I fold my arms across my chest and wait for him to go. He doesn’t.
“I knew that things weren’t right,” he says, voicing his concern.
“You need to go,” I say, my urge to get him out of here before Michael returns is reaching new heights.
“Why?”
“Because you just do.”
“You’re scared.” His comment is spot on. Damn him for knowing me so well.
“I’m not.”
“Lucy, I have known you since we were at school together. I know when you’re scared, and I know when you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying,” I shriek, exasperated that he just won’t get the fuck out of here. I feel sick.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on with you.” His eyes are determined, fierce, passionate.
“Who do you think you are? You swan back into my life after buggering off for a year and a half and you expect everything to be the same as it was before?” I will say anything at this point in order to get him gone. It doesn’t matter how cruel my words are, if Michael sees Cal, then I will be given a lesson in just how cruel life can really get. “Just go, Cal. I don’t need a knight in shining fucking armour thinking he has to try and save me.”
“No,” he bites back, and I throw my arms in the air at his answer.
“Damn you, Cal Bailey!” It’s not often I use his last name, but when I do, it normally means that I’m frustrated with him, and right now, I am beyond frustrated.
My eyes keep darting to the door.
