Page 13 of David's Love

Laughing, I relax in my seat.

“You don’t have a type, Julie,” I remind her.

“You don’t know that.”

“What’s your type?”

She goes silent, and I hear the distinct sound of a drawer being pulled open and the click of a mouse.

“Julie?”

“I don’t know,” she says, no longer focused on me. “Someone like you, I guess?”

“You’re fucking with me. Goth girls don’t like men like me.”

Her laugh echoes in my ears.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Okay…” she says before sighing. “I don’t have a type. But the bodyguards shouldn’t be your problem. They don’t like girls like me.”

“While I appreciate your spin on the story, that doesn’t quench my worries.”

“No worries, Boss. No one can take me down. You know me. I’m fierce.”

A smile broadens across my lips as I imagine Julie, with her beautiful loose pink locks and blue eyes, sitting in my chair, her gaze trained on the computer screen.

“What are you wearing?”

“Boss?? That’s inappropriate,” she says, laughing.

“I wasn’t flirting. I only need to know how you dressed.”

She clicks her tongue in a tease, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“You want to know if I have on a skintight dress and wear fuck me shoes.”

“That’s inappropriate.”

“The fuck me shoes is?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I came from Miranda’s place. So what do you think I’m wearing?”

“I want to hear it from you. Humor me.”

“Dressy pants, a blouse, and a coat.”

A weight lifts off my chest.

“Happy?” she says.

“Yes. So you’re not going to the gym.”

“No. Of course not. So you’ve talked to Miranda?” she says, shifting to a different topic.

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