Page 14 of Implode

“You can keep them. Wear them to the next security meeting you lead.”

“At least have a dick donut or pastry with me,” he says softly. He tilts the half-eaten cookie toward me. “As you know, I’m a huge fan of cock cookies.”

I almost sense hope in his voice. These little glimmers are messing with my head. Yet the last thing I need is for someone to pick me as a default or as a bed warmer. If I can’t be someone’s first choice, then I don’t want to be that person’s anything.

I reach into the basket and pull out a cream filled eclair that is dipped in chocolate. I know this is not vegan, and it sure as hell is not organic. However, it looks divine, and I can’t resist. I bite off the mushroom shaped head, and the vanilla pastry cream squeezes out of the side and drips onto my lips. I can feel Nic’s eyes on me the whole time as my tongue cleans up the mess. I lick chocolate icing off my fingers and finish the rest of the pastry with two more bites.

“Tasty,” I admit.

I expect a sarcastic remark from Nic, but instead I am met with brooding silence. I can tell he has a lot on his mind. I want to scream at him that it is his own fault for not keeping me around long enough to see what I can do with my mouth. We had a good rhythm going with what I thought was a relationship forming, but my inability to keep my emotions in check destroyed every brick in the foundation.

“I’ll see you…”Later? I want to finish my statement but know that if I do, it implies want. While I know our paths are destined to cross again, I have to maintain this platonic attitude. It’s for the best.

I turn to leave, and when my hand touches the doorknob, a knock from the other side causes me to jump. I open the door and see a beautiful woman with sleek, long blonde hair waiting for permission to enter.

“Who are you?” I mouth, staring at her legs that go on for days. I feel extra short in comparison, or maybe that’s just the feeling of inferiority slipping in.

“I am Mr. Hoffman’s personal assistant that he hired,” she says sweetly. “My name is Brenna.”

She is so prim and proper that I look like a hoodlum in comparison to her.

“Good luck,” I snipe and continue walking down the hall and into the elevator.

As soon as the doors shut and I am left alone to my own thoughts, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. My head rests against the wall. It is not even noon and my day is already headed off course. My stomach cramps, causing me to have waves of nausea bubbling up inside. It is not too often that I break form and eat something that is not vegan. It is moments like this that I understand why I’m so dedicated and strict. Dairy products cause me so much discomfort. I feel slightly gross, like my digestive system needs a shower.

When the elevator stops and the doors open, the wave of nausea strikes me hard. I dash into the nearest bathroom and expel the contents of my stomach into the closest toilet. After rinsing my mouth, I fix my hair and smooth out my outfit. I force myself to return to Plus None, despite feeling like crap and wanting to go home and rest.

At about midday, Angie places a glass of ginger ale with lemon slices at my desk and gives me a small smile. “You look like you are dragging today,” she says slowly. “How about you start the weekend early and leave?”

I smile up at her and nod. She’s right. I’m not being very productive when I am this worn out and exhausted. I sip my soda and pack up my bag. “I have so much organizing to do at my new apartment before I can have you over for a movie night.”

“That sounds wonderful. Can I help you with anything? Moving things? Laundry? Shopping trip to a home store?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I just need to spend this weekend getting myself officially moved in and all should be good again.”

“Just say the word if you need anything. Other than some last-minute wedding things, I am free.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, Claire?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you thought about getting your bloodwork run just to make sure your levels are good? You seem to be not yourself lately, and maybe you just need some B or D vitamins.”

I give Angie a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m due for a physical and routine bloodwork. I’ll look into it.” I can’t even remember the last time I was at the doctor’s other than the free clinic to update my test results for working at Entice. Part of healthy eating means that my immune system is usually in good shape. However, she is right. I am not myself. Problem is, there is no cure for a broken heart.

It’s hard suffering in silence and not being able to run to Angie to share all of my struggles. I would never want her to have to choose sides between me and her future brother-in-law. I should have known better than to get involved with Nic. Even though it feels good to make him the villain, I also made bad choices in this story.

I toss my bag over my shoulder and make my way outside into the hallway. I get on the elevator and slowly walk through the lobby. I am so sluggish. Maybe I just need to spend this weekend sleeping. My new furniture set arrived yesterday, and I couldn’t wait to get it set up to avoid another night on the cold floor. However, the directions were not very descriptive and took me way longer than I expected. At least I don’t wake up smelling like Doritos. Anything is better than that horrid stench.

The good thing about a studio apartment—besides the cheaper rent—is that the low square footage forces me to stay organized. By nature, I am a bit scattered. I am trying my best to be better though.

The outside air is warm and feels good against my chilled air-conditioned skin. I see Nic’s henchman strolling toward me with a to-go cup of coffee in hand. He must be on his lunch break.

“Hey Claire, how are you?” Dan asks.

I guess that since we are not technically at work, he feels it’s okay to call me by my first name.

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