Page 92 of Rhet

“You don’t get to touch me.” She walks to the car, opens the door to the passenger seat and gets in.

The drive home was silent, only the pings from Zeeta’s phone made noise. I knew it was from Bob. I feel like grabbing her phone and throwing it out of the window. However, I think we’ve had enough theatrics for the night.

“Why the hell are you smiling like that?” I ask.

“My date said besides everything he had a great time.

“Did you enjoy your date?” My hands tighten on my steering wheel.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” She turns her head to her window and looks outside. This discussion is over. It took me twenty minutes to get home.

As we both get out the car, I feel the need to apologize to her “Zeeta,”

“No. Stuff what you are going to say right up your ass.” She screeches. I make my way around the car to stand in front of her as she leans against my car.

“All I was going to say is I regret nothing.” I was going to apologize but I changed my mind.

We both stare at each other, my eyes dropping down to her lips wanting to kiss her. She swallows.

“I don’t think we should,” she leans off the car and walks around me “Have a good night Mr. Banner. See you in the morning.”

I watch at her walk away leaving me and my thoughts behind.

RHET

Last night I didn’t sleep, and now everything seems loud at my office. I can hear my employee’s phones ringing; the fax machine is beeping and someone is laughing way to loud. While I’m miserable all day in the office, Zeeta has been looking down at the phone with a smile, tittering to herself. She’s so happy I feel a need to puke near her desk just to spoil her day.

Why should her day be great, when mine feels like crap? It doesn’t help she’s exceptional at her job. It’s downright sickening the way she catches on to my needs. Sometimes without me even asking.

I feel like I’m being forced into something I’m not mentally ready for.

“Did you send the contract to Brain X? I’m really interested in their software,” I ask. Not bothering to look up from my file since I can see her in my peripheral view.

“Yes, I spoke to a Brooks Reed and I sent an email with the contract attached,” she replies. Her phone vibrates again. She grabs it and snickers yet again.

“Doesn’t your new boyfriend have a job? Or does he work as a cheap stripper at night?”

No, I don’t sound bitter at all. I drag my hand down my face, trying to rid myself of this mild irritation.

“He’s not a stripper and yes, he has a job.”

She shakes her head and smirks like I said something silly. What’s more is that she didn’t even deny him as her boyfriend. They just fucking met.

“What’s Bob’s name?” I want to punch myself in the left nut for asking.

“York,” she says. I have never felt so happy about someone having such a dumb name.

“Are you kidding me? Your new man is named after a British eggy pie. Yorkshire pudding.”

“His name isn’t bad,” she mutters.

“Isn’t there like a dog named York?” I rub my thumb under my bottom lip.

“It’s a Yorkshire Terrier and they are cute.”

She’s trying, but that name is bullshit and she knows it. I give her a hard look as I think of how fucked up it is. Let me help her see this clearly.

“So let me get this straight, you will be on your back someday—”

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