Page 48 of The HalloQueen

“You always think we are behind,” she clicked around on her computer, “I think, all things considered, we are in fairly good shape. I’m nervous about the impending shipping nightmares, but back-end wise I think we will be done by tomorrow. I assume it’s going to be worse after the launch than this. I’m assuming you want my extra help tonight and tomorrow right?”

I grimaced, “Is that okay? I’ve got a…complication that’s put me behind and I could use the hand.”

She crossed her thick legs and spun toward me, “is the complication of the skinny French variety?”

“He’s not skinny…”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t fucking ripped, I just said skinny. Is that a yes?”

I sighed, placing my phone down and leaning against my hand, pushing my fingers into my hair, “he’s uh… I guess unofficially staying with me?”

“What?!” She screeched so loud that the short white blond spikes on her head seemed to stick up even straighter.

“Well, he hasn’t left yet other than to work.”

“So you’ve just been shacking up since Friday?”

“Kinda?”

“Babes. You just gave me shit for seeing Trae multiple times in a row and you’re like…living with this guy?”

Scoffing and rolling my eyes, I turned away, “it doesn’t count as living together if it’s only a few nights.”

“So you’re going to ask him to leave?”

Ask him to leave? This weird, delightfully funny man who makes me delicious food and cleans my house, and fucks me senseless? Who holds me all night and snuggles my cat and eases my anxiety? Who’s face I can sit on as much as I fucking want? No way. It had been an amazing few days.

“Listen, this is a completely different situation than you and Trae. Besides, now that I know it’s Trae, I’m happy you’re happy. I said that before I knew it was him. And I don’t have kids to think about.”

“I don’t care if you’ve known Thomas for years,”I haven’t, “it still seems like unusual behavior for you right before a launch.”

“What’s wrong with blowing off some steam while I’m stressed?”

“Well, you’ve been late twice this week. Are the orgasms worth it?”

I cackled, “they areabsolutelyworth it. Have you ever sat on someone’s face?”

She screamed with laughter and waved her hands at me, “oh my god, stop. I can’t-”

“It’s a 10/10 babe. Do it.” I laughed again and opened my email and shop interface, “Man, there’s a ton of orders today considering there’s new stuff coming out next week. I’d have thought people would be waiting for this stuff to go on clearance.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Just click accept and go pack it up.”

“Isn’t packing boxes your job?”

“You want me to stop working on the launch photos?” She arched her dark brow at me. I was always jealous of how she could pull off having such light hair and dark statement brows.

I sighed, “Right. Okay, I’m going to film a little too so don’t knock.”

“You got it, boss.” She gave me a thumbs up and I zapped all the orders to my phone so I could easily print the shipping labels and I sent the packing slips to our main printer, which spit out each order on a light orange sheet with a watermark of our logo in the background. I loved my logo. The heart-eyed skull and crossbones wearing a crown made me smile every time I saw it in an unboxing video or ad. It was one of the many things that made me feel like I’d actually started my own business. Also, packing tape. Who knew that black packing tape covered in my logo would make me feel like an adult?

The storeroom was overflowing with boxes waiting to be fully inventoried, sorted, and tagged, and while that was the easiest kind of job to hire out, they were also the simple kinds of tasks that I enjoyed getting lost in. I loved feeling every item that came through my store and the repetitive motion of stabbing them with the tagging gun and sealing the bags.

After setting up my phone for a timelapse, I went about grabbing order items from the shelves and assembling the black packing boxes, double-checking my work, and humming along to a song in my head. As I worked, I thought about the past few days with Thomas. They were almost a blur. When I came home late at night he would be in my kitchen, petting my cat and watering my plants, cooking me a lovely dinner, or doing dishes. I didn’t understand it at all. If he wanted me anxious so he could feed, he was definitely shooting himself in the foot by making my life easier. We’d turn on a cooking competition and he’d hold my feet and tell me about his day at the shop and I’d feel him massage every ounce of tension out of my body and replace it with contentedness. It’d been like this the last five nights. In the morning I’d wake up to him kissing my shoulders and neck, we’d have slow, tender, delicious morning sex and then he’d leave for work and I’d scramble to get my life together enough to do the same.

He was distracting and I couldn’t decide if that was a problem or not. Yes, it had been a great week, but I also had done nothing but work and Thomas. Considering this was supposed to be a business relationship, it was getting a little habitual. When I was with him it was like I couldn’t imagine not having him there, but once we both went to work my mind would race. It was supposed to be that he got to eat and I got to not panic - that was the arrangement, not him whispering stories to me in the dark while he caressed my sides, not him kissing my shoulder and wishing me a good day at work while I brushed my teeth. It wasn’t the first day that week that I’d tried to separate myself from whatever was going on with him as soon as we were apart. It was moving fast, and together that felt natural, but apart it felt terrifying. I moved about my morning, and once I’d finished the original orders, I started opening the boxes of new inventory, stopping to flash a few pieces at the camera and make an exaggerated excited face. I pulled a few pieces to take home, as I was the best advertisement I had and turned my face to the phone when I heard the telltale beep saying that the recording had stopped.

TOMMY:How do you feel about Bouillabaisse?

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