Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes before finishing up and disposing of the soggy mess. Looking back to Simon, I found him focused on my rear again. I twisted around, worried I missed something.

"What is it, Si? Do I have something on my bum? Why do you keep staring at it?"

"What? I don't keep staring at it!" he exclaimed, jumping up and shoving his paper towels into the trash. "Not everything is about you, Lenn."

He stormed off to the bathroom, shutting the door hard, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I was officially flummoxed, my Cheerios a soggy mess. Giving up on them, I dumped them into the sink and retreated to my room, my brow furrowed.

Simon was acting weird. The fear that he was keeping something from me filled me. Grabbing a skirt with lemons on it, a white tank top, and a green cardigan, I headed into my bathroom to get ready for the day. Maybe reminding Simon of the nickname he used to have for me would bring him back to me.

Other ideas of how I could fix things floated through my head as I readied. I could try making something for dinner tonight and getting Simon to talk to me then. My brain was in full problem-solving mode as I fixed my hair.

I’d dubbed these my ‘mirror conversations’, a time to lay out the things troubling me. It sounded better than admitting I talked to myself. Sometimes, it worked, and other times, it left me even more befuddled.

Today, I felt even more lost than I had when I started. It was hard to know the solution when you didn’t even know the problem.

Heading out, I chose to keep my shoe choice simple and slipped on my grey canvas flats. My klutziness this morning didn’t bode well for heels today.

Simon's door was open and dark, meaning he'd already left. He hadn't even said goodbye. Disappointment flared in my chest, and I vowed to do something today. I didn’t like feeling this disconnected from him. Nothing made sense when we weren’t on the same wavelength.

The drive to work was quiet this morning, and I enjoyed the music as it blared through my speakers. Betty puttered along as normal, and I made the same plea I made every morning."Just get me to work one more day, Betty."It was silly, but it felt like she listened to me and tried to deliver on the promise.

Making it to the parking lot, I breathed a sigh of relief for not breaking down on the side of the road. Grabbing my stuff, I made my way up to Emblazed Tats’ front door and unlocked the several locks installed. Slade insisted on having four of them. I think he forgot this wasn’t Los Angeles, but instead was Bowling Green, KY. It was his store, though, so I only poked minimally at him over it.

Opening everything up, I blared the music as I got the shop ready for the day. Sometimes, I hated being the unofficial receptionist in combination with body piercer, but at times, when I could dance around without an audience as I prepared the stations for the day, I enjoyed it. I'd been working here for three years now, and everyone was my family. I loved taking care of them and helping make their day better.

Even Slade, despite his dickish nature the majority of the time.

I chuckled at myself for using the word. It was hard to get past my manners at times and saynaughtywords out loud, but every now and then, I would catch them slipping in my head. It threw me for a minute, the word foreign to my inner dialogue, until I inevitably would laugh at it.

I didn't remember when I'd decided not to cuss, just that at some point, I did. I didn't hold it against anyone else. It just wasn't how I chose to communicate. My southern roots had been sowed in me strongly. I think the fact it annoyed Tatzilla was also a bonus.

Finishing up my sweeping, I turned to find someone had snuck in while I was busy singing. Slade was in his usual pose, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, watching me. Sticking my tongue out at him, I carried on doing what I was, not caring if he liked my singing or not today.

Some days, it bothered me more than others, him not liking me. I strove to be a nice person and kind to everyone even if I griped about it. I never went out of my way to be mean, even if sarcasm was my go-to response.

Slade, however, was a whole other category. I think I was coming to terms with him only ever being my bossnemy. My lady parts cried out in despair, but my heart knew I’d never be able to take the pain he was sure to bestow on me.

"What's eating you today?" he asked when I dumped the broom pan.

"Nothing."

"Hmm."

"Hmm, yourself all you want. It doesn't mean I'm going to tell you anything."

Seriously? Why did I engage?

Continuing to get the day ready, I pulled out my stool I used for the cabinets and stepped up. They all laughed at me for needing one, but without it, I had to jump on the counter, and that was a bad decision with how many dresses and skirts I owned.

I was pulling down some of the ink colors the stations were low on when he came up behind me.

"James, I'll be heading out early today and need you to cover."

Jumping, I whirled around to tell him exactly how I felt about being told instead of asked about covering for him. My canvas shoes didn't have the best traction on them, though, and when I spun, my equilibrium was off, and I started to topple over the side.

Slade grabbed my hips, steadying me. My shirt had slid up some with the movement, coming untucked in the process. I felt his thumb brush against the bare flesh sending goosebumps to the surface. Sucking in a breath, I held his gaze, forgetting what I was about to yell at him for.

"You don’t have to throw yourself at me, James. Desperate isn't a good look."