This is part two of the fictional short story. Read part one here.

After two weeks of busying myself to keep my mind off him, I felt pretty damn good about how much I’d accomplished. Actually, it was probably the most productive I’ve ever been. My supervisor even gave me a pat on the back. I was getting so close to a promotion. I could feel it.

Yet, when I got home every night, it was an entirely different story. I cried. A lot. And like a crazy person, I shouted profanities which echoed through my empty apartment. I was now living off Starbucks and Chinese takeout. I had no motivation to cook or anything else for that matter besides one thing.

My mind was filled with thoughts of him. Our conversations. The way he was always brutally honest with me all the time- even if I didn’t like it. His jokes. His contagious laugh. The way he spoke. His face. His voice. His rugged jaw. His dark eyes. It brought a smile to my face, laughs even, just thinking of our time together. But, just as soon, came the tears because I couldn’t be with him. I wouldn’t let myself take things further than a professional relationship.

I felt cursed with this new weight of emotion and sex drive.
The only way I was able to sleep was by giving myself release while picturing him. And it didn’t just stop after my orgasms, he lingered in my dreams. God, if I say I believe in you, would you please take mercy on me?

My girl friends knew how hard I was working. I hadn’t seen or texted them in the last two weeks. It was no surprise that Saturday evening, the buzzer for my apartment rang.

“You know whoooooo.” My friend sang piercingly loud and off-key into the intercom.
“Jesus. You are so obnoxious.”
“And you my friend, are are in need of some…”
I cut her off with the louder buzzing noise that sounded the opening of the entrance to my apartment building. I waited in the doorway of my apartment on the third floor. In less than one minute, I heard the clacking of her heels. Then her voice.
“So where’s the horror movie being filmed?”
“Thanks, best friend. I knew I could count on you.”
“That’s what I’m here for. But seriously, you don’t look so good, honey. I think you need a little TLC.” She winked.
“Oh, here we go.”

An hour later, my other girl friend arrived. A few hours after that and mindless girl-talk, my girls did my makeup, curled my hair, and picked out my outfit. Soon, I found myself at a club in a part of the city I’ve never been before.

It was not as classy or refined as the bars I usually visited. It was more dark, hipster-like. The people that surrounded me wore tight leather and black everything. There was barely enough light in the room to make out what else there was besides a bar and a guy setting up a guitar in a corner. This was only recognizable because two over-hanging lanterns filled these spaces.

Wearing a dress too tight and too short for my style, I felt uncomfortable. Out of my element. But my friends insisted I looked hot. They cared so much about making this a good night for me… so I just figured I might as well go with the flow. As I looked at the other women near me, I felt like I did at least blend in with my little black number.

I just had to be careful with my every step, or I’d risk everything spilling out.

As we made our way to the bar, that’s when I heard my name. From a very familiar voice.

No it can’t be.

I kept following my friends through the swarm of young bodies.

A light touch on my arm came next. Turning, I found myself face to face with the guy who’d been driving me insane and had no fucking clue about it.

My coworker.

I think I heard my brain audibly fart.

My eyes took him in from his eyes down to the black leather jacket, crisp white T-shirt, and ripped jeans he fashioned now. This was a completely different side to the prim and proper look I saw him wear in his Armani suits.

And my body wasted no time to express its interest.

As I looked back to his eyes, I caught him scanning me in just the same way. Is he really checking me out right now? 

His eyes drifted back up to mine, and we stood staring. The tension was so thick, I thought I’d spontaneously start choking on it.

“You’re here.” I whispered breathlessly.

He ignored my obvious statement, and decided to check me out. Again!

“You… look different.” His voice was hoarse–not like I’d usually heard before. His brows linked and his jaw tightened– turning my attention to the little bit of scruff there. I just wanted to reach out…

And he leaned in closer.

I was totally screwed, and I knew it.

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