Page 57 of The Worst Guy Ever
Fuuuuck.Yeah fucking right, mate. One, you’re not the boss of me, and two, as if you’re gonna stop me. I slip my hand under the waistband of my leggings and into my underwear. I find myself hot and slick, the way I always am when talking to him. I moan gently as my fingertips sweep over my clit, and bite my lip to stifle it. Fuck it, I don’t even care if he knows what I’m doing.
“Where are you Hattie?” he asks.
“Gym,” I whisper, pressing harder.
“Get your hand out of your underwear.” My eyes fly open and I pull my hand out.
“What the—”
“On your left.” I look across the car. Over the phone I hear him laughing, and through the passenger window I can see him, sitting in his car parked next to mine. He gives me a smug little wave.
“I hate you so much.” I hang up and drive.
Knob:Hattie Buchanan you filthy minx. It’s pretty hot knowing you were going to get off thinking about me but hands off until Friday. I promise it will be worth the wait.
Me:Deal is off. I’m not coming.
Knob:Oh you’re coming, sweetheart. 70 hours to go. I’m counting down every minute until I get my hands on you.
Chapter 24
Hattie
Ican’tconcentrateatall on Friday. I’m too jittery to eat lunch, and spend the afternoon clearing out my inbox and clock-watching until the genuine quarterly review meeting with Andrew, Bob, and the other account directors that sit under his management. Only a total bastard would schedule it last thing on a Friday, but I’m determined to make a good impression, play nice and show willing.
Andrew corners me as I’m leaving to wish me a happy weekend, and I make my train home with seconds to spare. I’m desperate to shower off the commuter stink, but I pause when I find Megan in the living room surrounded by school books she’s marking. We’ve been like passing ships this week.
“Hey,” she says, clearing her work away to make space for me. “Kara’s free tonight. You want to get a takeout, like old times?”
Shit, I really do want to do that.I loved those nights we spent, just the three of us, eating, drinking, and curling up on Kara’s sofa. OK so I don’t miss the ones where she was so distraught about being dumped she cried until she fell asleep, but when we were happy, we were really happy. We didn’t need these stupid men.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve got plans.”
“Oh, OK.”
“I really want to do that soon though. I feel like with all the wedding stuff it’s been ages since we had a girls night.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice sounding sadder than usual.
“You OK?”
“I’m fine,” she says, “Kara’s coming anyway. Don’t let me get in the way of your plans.”
I get the feeling she’s lying, but at least she won’t be alone tonight. After months of build-up, I can’t bear to cancel on Rob and drag this out any longer.
“Shall we do some nice things this weekend?” I suggest. “PJ day, facemasks, I’ll cook a mountain of carbonara?”
“I’d love that,” she says, picking up her red pen and returning to her marking.
I shower in record time, straighten my hair, and get myself into a panic over outfits. Rob said to wear something hot, but what type of hot? Men are so useless when it comes to this sort of thing. I look great in denim cut-offs and an old t-shirt, but am I supposed to trawl my wardrobe and find a gown of some sort? I swear to God, if he picks me up in a tux I will put a dent in his car.
In the end I opt for a black halterneck bodysuit underneath a dark green, floaty skirt that hits at mid calf. I throw my leather jacket over the top and dig chunky ankle boots from the bottom of my wardrobe. It’ll have to do. If he tries to take me to a place where I get refused entry based on some stuffy dress code then that’s on him.
“Have a nice night,” Megan calls after me.
“You too babe, don’t wait up.”
I don’t know where we’re going, but I know I’m not normally feeling this excited about the prospect of getting laid. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been thinking about Rob constantly this week, so I hope the reality lives up to my high expectations.
