Page 7 of Eight Steps to Alpha

It was a harmless comment, one she knew bared more truth than not, but coming from Mrs. G, it stung. She dove her hand back in the water and pulled out the plug.

Was she referring to her transgressions at work? Or…maybe something else?

Fe swallowed hard, because Mrs. G always knew more than she let on.

Slightly out of breath, Fe grabbed the sponge, and began wiping down the stainless steel sink. Mrs. G had become like a second mother to her…or maybe like a nosey aunt who always shared her opinion, but hearing the judgment in her voice made Fe’s heart ache.

Not only because Mrs. G was the only person at Hillman’s who didn’t cast a critical glance every time she walked down the halls, but also because she considered them to be friends.

Cinching her flannel tighter at her waist, she wiped at her brow with the back of her forearm. Comfort was Fe number one objective. Jeans, graphic tees, and a flannel over top were her self-proclaimed uniform, yet sometimes, she feared her casual appearance made people not take her seriously. Made them think her naïve or foolish.

But she wasn’t like the other twenty-four-year old’s she knew. Unlike most of her peers, she was perfectly happy being alone. She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, a baby daddy, or any grand gesture of commitment. She was simply looking for a good time. Which was exactly what she’d gotten from Mr. Peeking, the new seventh grade English teacher in the 600 building.

She glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. G, suspicious that’s what she was referring to, and grabbed the mop and bucket from the corner of the room.

She stretched her neck from side to side, swearing the purple mark that Mr. Peeking’s—or rather Todd—had grossly bestowed on her collarbone a few days prior burned hotter than all the rest of her body. There was no doubt in her mind it was covered, but she adjusted her collar anyway and wheeled the bucket across the floor.

She hated hickies with a passion, but what she hated more, was the fact Todd had wooed her into kissing him at all, even against her better judgement. She knew not to get into relations with a colleague, realized it was bad idea even before he removed her shirt. But she was a single woman. A single woman with needs, which was the only way she could explain her odd behavior as of late.

Sloshing soapy water on the floor from the bucket, she took a deep breath. Yes, it was New Year’s Eve, and yes, she’d drank too many champagne cocktails, but she should have never gotten into that tickle fight with Elliot otherwise. She should have never let him pull her into his arms, or straddled him on their pull-out couch. And she should have never reached up, pulled his smooth, southern boy cheeks between her fingers, and kissed him.

Because she hadn’t been able to get his delicious mouth out of her mind ever since. He was her best friend. Her roommate for the past five years, but now every time she looked at him, she remembered how innocent, yet confident his kiss had been, and how he’d kissed her back so eagerly, even though they’d never even shared a peck before that night.

Water sloshed from the bucket to her Chuck Taylors, and she jumped backward, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention. She glanced down to her shoes, taking in the deep Burgundy canvas now drenched with soapy water.

“Are you okay, Mija?” Mrs. G asked. “You don’t seem yourself today.”

Fe nodded, then wheeled the bucket a few steps and got back to work. The truth was, not even kissing Mr. Peeking in the 600 building had made her forget about that kiss. Which was why she had to go forward with the plan to make Elliot alpha. It was a good plan. One which could be executed within a few weeks and would bring them back to ground zero. Friends. The best of friends.

With most of the slime removed from the floor—or all recognizable traces of it, Fe rolled the bucket back to the corner and dumped it. The gooey mess, whirled around in the drain, and she contemplated her situation. The good news was, she’d gotten hold of her bearings before either situation had gone beyond kissing. Both with Elliot and with Todd Peeking.

Unfortunately, her libido was still raging, possibly more so than ever before in her life, leaving her halfway wishing for a perfect stranger to have a one night stand with.

Vibrator.

She must get a vibrator.

With the room mostly tidied, Fe filled the sink with clean, warm, water and got down and dirty with the beakers and a bottle brush. But her mind kept slipping back to last night’s conversation at dinner. She still wasn’t sure why Elliot wanted Mary, but he wasn’t really asking her opinion. All she wanted was for her and Elliot to get past this. To prove that all the butterflies which came low in her stomach when he sat too close was from residual dopamine left over from their kiss. After all, dopamine was a hormone that mimicked cocaine, and since cocaine was highly addictive, it was only natural for her to feel these feelings even months later. Because she was addicted.

Therefore, the best thing to do was to make the substance of her addiction completely and utterly off limits. Given the fact Elliot was the best roommate she’d ever had in her life—one she wasn’t willing to give that up over a simple kiss—this plan was the best solution. It was obvious. Get Elliot a girlfriend, and everything would go back to normal. Even if that girlfriend sounded like Mary flippin’ Poppins!

She continued working with Mrs. G until the science lab was clean and sparkling and ignored the little voice in her head that asked why she didn’t feel like this with Todd Peeking? She’d just kissed him a few days prior, so in theory, he should be the one giving her butterflies… but she wouldn’t let herself get caught up in over analysis. She would go forward with the plan, and everything would go back to normal. Easy as Pi.

* * *

It was justafter 4pm when she set her keys on the counter and glanced around their shared apartment. “Elli, are you home?”

After a moment with no answer, she took the bundle of mail from under her arm and walked down the hallway to check the rest of the apartment. With any other human, it would be obvious if he was home or not. His truck was parked in their garage downstairs. But you never knew with Elliot.

Somedays he got a wild hair up his butt and decided to ride his bike to work—more than some days actually. Even on hot sticky days like this one. He was always training for something. Some mud run, or triathlon, or other such silliness. She sorted the mail standing at his bedroom doorway, then threw his bills to his annoyingly organized desk and headed for her own room. Having not peed one time all day, she stopped at their shared bathroom to relieve her bladder. The front door opened as soon as she pulled down her pants. “Elli, is that you?” Or course it was him. He was like an alarm clock, coming and going at the exact time every day.

“Are you talkin’ to me while you pee again?” came his thick southern drawl.

She grinned and settled her bottom on the cool plastic seat. “Yep. But it’s only because I love you. You should feel honored, really you should.”

“Oh, I do,” he muttered. “Trust me.”

The deadpan tone in his voice made her giggle. That is, until he pounded on the wooden door making her jump. “Hurry up! I need to take a shower.”

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