Page 58 of Unbossly Manners

The tendons in Jackson’s neck bulged.

“Get the fuck out of here right now, Peyton.” His voice dripped with fury.

He wouldn’t budge. That was clear. I wore my underwear and my shirt, but my skirt was in his room. I found it crumbled at the end of the bed tied up with the sheets.

When I came out, Jackson stood tense by the front door. He stared ahead, his eyes cold.

“I’m right, Jackson. That’s why you’re angry.”

Jackson marched toward me and I took a step back.

“I’m pissed because I just stuck my fingers in someone’s pussy that I might hate. Get the fuck out.”

I stumbled backward and blinked rapidly, holding back the tears that rushed into my eyes.

“Please don’t tell Kat about this. I know you will but—”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he scoffed.

“I’m worried about a lot of things,” I said, cold prickles running over my skin.

Tonight had been amazing. Why did I slash our post-coital bubble with vicious jabs?

“I’ll give you one less thing to worry about. Whatever this was, it’s over.”

And he slashed me right back.

I ground my teeth, and held my muscles tight to stop myself from shaking.

“Evie said your eyes follow Kat around like a puppy dog when she’s in the room. At first, I thought that was harsh, but she’s right. You’re pathetic. Her words.”

Jackson’s face burned red, his expression volcanic. I inched toward the door, fearing his eruption.

“You don’t hate me.” I stepped into the hallway. “You hate yourself for loving her.”

twenty-three

A fruit basket filled with bananas—and only bananas—sat on Jackson’s desk on Monday.

I’d spent all Sunday cursing myself for what I’d done. It was my fault. Completely my fault. I’d been a self-destructive bitch.

Between self-flagellations, I spent a lot of time reliving his hands and mouth and fingers all over my body.

Selena said I was crazy, and what I needed to do was get down on my knees, beg for his forgiveness, tell him I was an idiot, then give him the best head of his life.

I went with the fruit basket.

It sat there all day, untouched. Jackson never showed up for work. I texted him a dozen times, but he ignored them.

“Do you know where Jackson is?” I asked Analise. “I was meant to have a meeting with him.”

“He’s off this week. Some bike race in Europe.”

I sank into my chair. A bike race? He never mentioned that.

“I must have messed up the scheduling,” I said, perplexed.

“It was last minute. He sent an email last night that he was taking a week off. The guy deserves it. He hasn’t taken a break since he started here.” Analise halted her typing. “Except when his wife left him. Isaac had to drag him back to work after he’d been holed up in his apartment for two weeks.”

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