Page 11 of The Naughty List

“I’m sorry, Kate. I really am. I just—truthfully, I felt sorry for you when I saw that Chad was there with the woman he cheated on you with and everyone was acting like it was okay. I just wanted to—I don’t know, fix it for you?”

I know he probably thinks he means well but his apology just pisses me off even more. I shrug his hand off my shoulder and stand up.

“You feel sorry for me? God, Damon, I didn’t ask for any of this from you. I don’t need or want your pity. I can take care of myself and my feelings and handle my ex being here, okay? Let’s just get one thing straight between us; you’re my boss and not my boyfriend. We aren’t friends; we don’t even like each other. Let’s just pretend, get this weekend over with, and go back to our normal dysfunctional working relationship.” I rifle through my bag, pulling out my clothes and putting them into the dresser drawers. Damon doesn’t move off the bed for several seconds. I can see something in his eyes, but I don’t linger long enough to decipher what it is. I feel a twinge of regret for snapping at him so harshly again but instead of apologizing, I just remind myself of the dozens of times he’s made me cry at work.

“Uh, can my stuff go in these drawers?” he asks, pointing to the second dresser. I nod and we both continue to organize our stuff in silence.

“Can I just ask… Why not let your parents help you? You mentioned not having the money to fix your car at the bar last night so…?” His words trail off but I don’t answer so he keeps talking. “I mean, clearly they’re not hurting; this house has gotta be at least ten thousand square feet.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it,” I say as I gather my toiletries and head into the en suite. I close the door behind me, placing my things on the counter. I put my hands on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. As much as I tried to make myself look alive with some makeup in the car, I can see the prominent bags under my eyes. My eyes look dull and sad; my hair is limp and lifeless. I turn on the shower and allow the room to fill with steam for a few moments as I strip out of my clothes.

When I step into the shower, I can’t hold back the tears that have been threatening for the last forty-eight hours. It’s cathartic but it doesn’t do much to help relieve the constant stress I’ve been under for the last several months. My parents always told me that I could come home when I moved to Chicago after dropping out of college. It wasn’t just out of the goodness of their hearts that they offered me a place to stay; it was because they never believed I could make it on my own, and as the days and weeks go by and my stress and anxiety builds, I’m starting to realize that maybe they were right.

5

DAMON

I feel guilty for upsetting Kate, but I feel like she’s overreacting. I just wish she’d explain why she won’t just tell her parents what Chad did. I understand not wanting to ruin Christmas, but what kind of family wouldn’t support their child? Not to mention, at some point you have to stand up for yourself.

I finish putting away my clothes and pull out my phone to check a few emails. Since Kate is still in the bathroom, I take the opportunity to look around her room. From the looks of it, I’d say it hasn’t been touched since she moved out. I walk over to the bulletin board on the wall. It’s covered in pictures, a few playbills and concert tickets, and a deflated mylar birthday balloon that’s tacked to the wall.

There are pictures of her with friends, her volleyball portraits, her at prom, and several that look like she’s in a play or production of some sort. I lean in a little closer; the emotions on her face are so perfectly captured. Her eyes are almost half closed because she’s smiling so big, her cheeks pink and full, and she’s embracing another girl so tightly. Once again, I’m reminded that this is a side of Kate I’ve never seen, not once in three years of working together.

I know she’s right about me—I’m a prick, entitled, and arrogant. I hate the way I am half the time, but each time I think I’m going to take the high road with her or respond in a way that might get a better response out of her, I end up going below the belt. Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that if she hates me, I won’t fall in love with her, but I know that’s not possible. I fell for her a long time ago and now I just do it to try and remind myself that I don’t deserve her. I’ve always been terrified to let her in, to see the real me because if she doesn’t hate me and I’m not making her life miserable, then there’s no excuse if she doesn’t want to be with me. It’s fucked up, childish, and misogynist. I want to change—I have to. She deserves it.

The bathroom door opens and she walks out slowly, her wet hair stuck to her neck. She glances at me briefly before scurrying over to her closet and tossing her clothes in the hamper. She’s wrapped in a fuzzy robe that goes to her ankles; her lack of makeup emphasizes the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“You were in theater in school?” I ask, pointing to the photos.

“Yeah.” She grabs her makeup and walks back in the bathroom.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask, shoving my hands into my jeans. She hesitates but turns back and walks over to the bed to take a seat. “You’re right. I had no right to make decisions for you and certainly don’t have a right to fix anything for you. This is your life and I did weasel my way into it and I’m sorry.” She doesn’t say anything so I keep going. “This is your home and your bedroom and I’m clearly making you uncomfortable. I don’t want to do that, Kate, especially during Christmas, so I’ll tell your parents that I have an emergency back home that I need to take care of and let you guys celebrate in peace. I’ll even send someone else to pick you up or leave my car here and take the train back to Chicago.”

“No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s too much, Damon. Weasel was probably too harsh of a word. I was angry and honestly the fact that you offered to bring me here and miss your own family Christmas is… extremely selfless and I haven’t been as grateful and appreciative as I should be.”

“Well, I can at least move to another guest room; this place has to have a few others or at least a couch I can crash on so you get your own space.” I watch as she seems to contemplate the offer for a minute before shaking her head.

“No, this is fine. I feel like if you move to another room, it will just bring on more questions and draw more attention to our little sham of a situation.” I nod in agreement. “But don’t think for one minute you aren’t sleeping on the floor,” she says, grabbing her makeup again and heading for the bathroom.

“It’s a king-sized bed. Come on.”

“Not a chance in hell, buddy.” She shuts the bathroom door in my face and then quickly re-opens it. “I’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes. My parents eat dinner at six p.m. on the dot so there’s plenty of time if you want to shower but don’t go wandering around out there without me. I can’t trust you to not say something else to make things even worse.”

“Can I shower while you do your hair and makeup?” I ask, trying to look past her into the bathroom.

“Ew, no.” She scrunches up her face like I just offered her a cockroach as a snack.

“Ew? Seriously?” I say, placing my hand above her on the doorframe and leaning in a little bit. “You didn’t say ew when my tongue was down your throat.” I smirk.

She gives me that snarky-ass look that makes my cock hard before slamming the door in my face. I laugh. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s attracted to me just as much as I am to her.

The door flies open again. “And don’t be going through my room.” She tries to shut the door again, but I put my hand up to block her. “What are you doing?”

“You’re taking too damn long and it’s already five forty. I’m taking a shower while you do whatever it is you’re doing.” I march past her and take in the large bathroom. There’s a jacuzzi tub in the corner and large walk-in shower. “Want to put that to good use?” I point to the tub and she just rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, get out.”

“Avert your eyes,” I say as I pull my hoodie and t-shirt over my head. “Or don’t. Up to you.” I kick off my shoes and pull my socks off as she looks at me in horror. I reach for my belt and undo the buckle, her eyes slowly falling from mine down my chest to my waist. I see her swallow hard and I realize that she’s turned on. I stop my movements and take two steps forward till I’m standing in front of her. I reach my hand up slowly and place my fingers beneath her chin.

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