Page 5 of How to Deal

Not exactly my finest moment there.

Much to my surprise, he laughed at me and began unbuttoning his pants, prepared to give me a full-blown cock, not the paper kind apparently.

I’m losing my mind. Honest to God, losing my fucking mind with Tathan around me.

Every time I look at him, I picture him naked and more importantly,menaked withhim. I can’t stop either, and I want to because he’s a manwhore and has Chlamydia.

Of course, I don’tknowthis for sure, but I’m pretty sure. Like 96.9 percent positive.

At least I hope he does because it’s my reasoning for staying away from him. I’m clinging to the fact that he has Chlamydia. Ineedhim to have Chlamydia.

“Chlamydia. HehasChlamydia,” I tell myself, chanting it as I walk the plans to the fourth floor. I decide to take the stairs as opposed to the elevator. Maybe exerting some physical energy will exhaust me and I’ll have no strength to think of Tathan naked.

It helps some, but when I return to my desk, I’m more annoyed than when I left because he’s smirking.

“What?” I ask callously as I sit back down.

His head pops out from behind his screen, his beautiful golden eyes sparkling with amusement as he watches me. “Come to lunch with me.”

I’m not sure why, but Tathan tries this every day and my answer remains the same. At some point you’d think he’d give up from a wounded ego, but no, the persistent shit never does.

“Nope.” My answer remains the same every day. “I have no desire to join your Crush Brigade,” I tell him, checking my e-mail and avoiding eye contact. Avoiding his eyes is very important. If you do happen to make eye contact with Tathan, you’re shit out of luck. The Force is strong with this one.

“What’s a Crush Brigade?” He stares at me with amusement, sweet caramel orbs wandering over my body as he runs his hand down the side of his face and his beard, and damn it, I desperately want to be the one rubbing the side of his face. Or other parts of him.

He has my attention, as does the grin he’s drawing me in with. It widens when I say, “Harem.”

My computer dings, my eyes shift away, and when I do, it’s like clouds blocking the sun and I’m suddenly chilled.

On my screen, there’s an e-mail from Casey telling me to be strong and to fix my bra. It’s peeking out. Thankfully, I can always count on her to look out for me.

As discreetly as I can, I glance down, and sure enough, my bra is showing where my mustard colored blouse has fallen down past my cleavage and revealed the girls hanging out of my obnoxiously bright purple bra.

I like bold and bright colors. Lights up my dull, lackluster life.

Staring at my tits on display, I smile. That certainly explains the amusement on Tathan’s face, doesn’t it?

“Amalie, you’ll give in,” Tathan whispers, and glances back at his computer screen, as if he’s actually working.

“Stop asking me out. It’s annoying, and you sound desperate.” I turn in my chair and chant to myself again that he has Chlamydia.

Tathan doesn’t say anything in response, but I catch sight of his face, the expression, the moment I know there’s certainly more to him than being the office dog. He looks almost offended I keep turning him down. No, offended isn’t the right word here. It’s more like disappointed.

I’m sure deep down Tathan could be a nice guy, but there’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way. Probably because I’m sure he’s slept with most of the women in this office—aside from me and Casey—and had he swung that way, I’m sure he would have hooked up with Zane by now. That’s what turns me off about him.

Some of my hostility toward Tathan comes from being cheated on. Why can’t men be happy with one woman? Where’s the appeal in having a different girl every night?

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