Chapter Eleven

C hapter Eleven

A rna

L ooking around the deserted office, I counted at least three other editor's desks, yet despite this, my inbox was always full and they were never anywhere to be seen. Darren's incompetence as a manager meant he couldn't evenly distribute work and I was often flying solo. Though, Urban Pulse was predominantly a nice place to work. They did their best to keep their employees happy with an abundance of coffee, fruit and snacks stored in the lunchroom and an amazing flex policy which meant you could take necessary leave without the guilt. There were branches across the country and employee surveys signified high rates of staff retention and overall positive wellbeing. However, sadly, in the Sydney office, Dickhead Darren brought with him a black cloud that rained on those he didn't like or who didn't stroke his enormous ego. Which included me.

It was lunchtime on Friday before I was finally in the right headspace to type my notes from my most recent interview with Andy. Oftentimes, it was late on the last official day of the working week when the office was at its most quiet and I welcomed this and the accompanying ability to concentrate. I'd opened my laptop every night since our meeting to record everything I remembered, but something always stopped me and I instead spent my evenings with a glass of wine, pondering the man who I was writing about.

He was fickle and I found his abrupt nature disconcerting, yet, like a train wreck, I couldn't look away. I remembered the way his eyes flared when I mentioned his diligence as the leader of the club and the way he visibly gulped when I acknowledged how his body plainly reflected his training regime. And just like the other million times I recalled these memories, my own pulse increased and I gravitated between regret and intrigue. So again, I procrastinated and moved back to devouring every word previously written about him or the team. At the very least, my knowledge on the Hearts was increasing which I knew Marlee would appreciate.

From the few interviews published, he was depicted as an egotistical man who filtered through women with little regard for their feelings. It matched the impression I took from him in our very first interaction, as he adorned an arrogant and dismissive charade, giving me very little of himself. However, I hadn't really held that belief since, nor had he said or done anything even mildly inappropriate.

If anything, he now seemed relaxed in my company other than when he was obviously affected by my words – if I read his body language correctly in our last encounter. But he was quick to mask his reaction and before I knew it his walls were once again firmly in place. Even when my own traitorous lady parts wished they weren't. They were hoping, on multiple occasions, that he would use his deliciously olive and impressively large biceps to pick me up, pin me against a wall and ravage me. Regrettably, they were lacking in decorum and it was for the best that they did not make my life decisions or I would have far more interesting notes to write about Mr. Andy Gloss. Whether that content would be worthy of publishing was debatable. There is no doubt that there would be a market out there willing to pay top dollar for information on a sex-capade of which he was the captain , however, Urban Pulse was likely not the platform.

After my uncertified Dr. Phil moment where I afforded a verbal diarrhoea update on who I perceived him to be, I'd spent a significant amount of time wondering if I both overstepped my position as interviewer and displayed a lack of manners which would have Queeny less than impressed. But for some unfathomable reason I couldn't be deterred when I was with him and when he gave me that opening, I took a gamble. There was just something fascinating about him and the more I scratched, the closer I felt to really seeing him which only fed into my determination.

In my mind, I could see the article coming to life with a catchy headline, photos and an insight into him as a person tastefully sprawled across the front page of our site. I planned to include some candid photographs, something I needed to organise today as the waiting list was often lengthy, as I knew these were rarely taken from my sleuthing. I would also need a few more hours with him, focusing on things other than how sexy he was, to provide a holistic view of the man so many Sydneysiders admired.

Securing a photographer with prospective dates, I grabbed my phone from my desk drawer and brought up his contact. The anticipation of messaging him simmered in my stomach as the sound of my nails tapping against the screen filled the air. After a few attempts at phrasing, I finally hit send before I could overthink any further.

Arna: Andy, I was hoping to get some photographs for the article as well as have another chat. Please let me know when you're free. A.

Darren chose that exact moment to waltz over to my desk with Felicity in tow. I begrudgingly wanted to find a flaw in her appearance but she was undeniably beautiful and the hints of gold in her amber hair only highlighted the similar colours in her eyes. In an ideal world, I would have jumped across my desk and sent her back the way she came before kicking him straight in the groin. However, fulfilling those daydreams wasn't going to pay the bills, nor was it going to secure me the promotion I was so desperate to obtain. So, fixing a faux smile across my face, I was the picture of approachability.

Darren exuded chutzpah as he looked down his nose at me, hands in his pockets.

"Flick and I were just discussing the upcoming feature. How is it coming along? She can edit for you if required." I actively focused on my breathing as the lava in my stomach churned for release.

Do not punch him in the dick. Do not punch him in the dick.

Ignoring his attempt to aggravate me, I gritted my reply. "Article is coming along well actually. I spent a few hours at the clubhouse the other day and we are organising a day to get some photos."

"That's great, Arna. I can't wait to read it." The bona fide tone of her words took me by surprise and I searched for something in her features to contradict my original assessment.

"Yes, Flick was just saying how it was unfortunate she couldn't do the interview herself this time but maybe it was going to be worth seeing what you presented." Affronted, my eyes darted back to Felicity where she appeared genuinely vexed.

"What I said was how Andy would accept no one else to complete the feature after you , in his words, ‘faced a roadblock' at the first meeting." She offered.

"Yes, of course that's what I meant," Darren fumbled. "Anyway, Flick and I have a meeting now with the Melbourne office. Feature is in the next edition, right?" He clarified.

"That's the plan." I replied, knowing this was dependent on the mood of my interviewee.

"I expect so." He huffed as he sauntered away, Felicity close behind, but not before she offered me what appeared an empathetic eye roll.

One minute she was glaring at me like she wished she could make me disappear and then sometimes, like just now, I almost felt sorry for her. I couldn't work the pair of them out.

I remembered my early days in the industry and how challenging it was to assert yourself and find your place – and not for the first time, I wondered if her abrasiveness was a misinterpretation on my end and she was simply trying to survive.

Before I could consider the idea any further, my phone beeped and I glanced down to see Andy's reply.

Andy: I am free for dinner tonight?

Dinner?

My heart stammered, my eyes racing over his words a second and third time as I contemplated the implication of his message. I knew many of the journalists on our team worked after hours, but a late meal seemed a little out of the ordinary. There was no denying I was attracted to him and this was going to influence my decisions as I contemplated the looming deadline. Tactically ignoring the tiny flutter in my stomach at the idea of what tonight would look like, I acquiesced and began packing my desk.

If I was meeting him for a meal, I needed to change because today was casual Friday and I couldn't show up in tights and a t-shirt. Plus, I needed to maintain some form of connection to work to remind myself this was not a date. Even if a small part of me maybe wished it was.

"Yes, we're having dinner tonight." I aimed for nonchalance but Marlee didn't even pretend to fall for my charade.

"You're going on a date with Andy Gloss?" Shovelling another spoonful of cereal into her mouth, she shook her head incredulously.

"Luckily for you I have earphones in or half of the city would have heard you. It's not a date. It's work." Self-conscious, I glanced around and was glad to see most people absorbed in their own worlds.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Where are you going?"

"Not sure. He said he will pick me up." I shrugged, glancing up to see it was safe to cross the road. I was close to home now and then it would be time to get ready. The anticipation increased with each minute and even talking to my bestie wasn't doing anything to calm my nerves.

"He is coming to your house ?" Marlee screeched, reaching her preferred soprano to indicate her excitement.

"Why is that such a big deal? I'm not trying to impress him. He is picking me up so we can continue our working relationship ." I nodded my head as if I too was totally convinced by my words and not wondering if I would have enough time to have an ‘everything shower'. I mean, I had to consider all possibilities and given the many, many months it had been since Barbara saw anyone other than her silicone friends, she needed attention.

There was no rhyme or reason to these meetings, judging by our history, yet he still invited me to dinner despite my inundation of personal anecdotes and unqualified assessment of his character. Which meant it wasn't farfetched to consider a variety of outcomes when seeing him.

As if reading my thoughts, Marlee giggled and began to make inappropriate gestures using her hands and mouth. I quickly brought the phone to my chest so the pedestrians closest would not fall victim to her hilariously crude act as I joined her laughing.

"Is he interested? No. Would I turn down that six foot hunk of raw sexual meat? Also no." Marlee snickered and I grinned surreptitiously.

A lady next to me scoffed loudly, covering her child's ears as she shot me a look of disgust. Grinning at her sheepishly, I turned the corner and headed for the basement of the most derelict apartment building on the street – mine.

"Anyway, I'm nearly home and your dramatic rendition is scaring the children. I'll call you after work ." Unlocking my front door, I heaved a sigh of relief at the silent apartment. Paul was obviously still in the office which was one less worry.

" Work, she says. Sure, Sure. Yes, call me later, mole."

It was unlikely that I would need to be this thoroughly prepared, yet it didn't stop me racing to grab my razor, butterscotch body scrub and my exfoliating mit – just in case.