Chapter Twenty-Two

C hapter Twenty-Two

A rna

" F inally." Marlee exclaimed, shaking her head from where she sat at the table of the bar we agreed to meet just over thirty minutes ago.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I was held up at work. Again. I swear they send me the dumbest articles just to see if I will lose my shit."

"Lucky, I love you." She replied, planting a kiss on my cheek and sliding a margarita across the table towards me. "Apple."

"You know, everything everyone says about you is total crap." I said and then burst into laughter at the look of horror on her face. "Just joking, babes. It's all true." I added, erupting into another fit of giggles.

"Whatever. The game starts in eight minutes which means we have four minutes each. You start. Tell me about your dinner the other night with Andy because, I 'll tell you in person is the worst thing you can say to me, you bitch."

I grinned knowingly. I knew she would hate that message but seeing how the night progressed I also knew I was going to thoroughly enjoy her reaction and a phone call would not have sufficed.

"Soooo," I said, taking a deep breath. "He kissed me." I paused for dramatic effect and Marlee, never missing a beat, squealed, stomping her feet under the table as she wobbled her head.

She leant forward speaking softly so no one close overheard. "Andy Gloss, captain of the Hearts," she exaggeratedly glanced at her watch, "Who is on TV in seven minutes – kissed you?" She enunciated the final words to ensure her excitement was received – as if there was any doubt.

I nodded my eyes wide. "Then, just as it was getting hot and heavy, his family arrived. With dinner." Marlee's head fell back and she cackled.

"Oh em gee. Shut up. You met his family? Keep going." She was grinning and I found myself so glad I waited to tell her.

Feigning nonchalance, I added the nail in the coffin. "They are lovely and dinner was nice. After they left, we kissed a little more and he and Barbs became best friends when he chose to have her for dessert." I shrugged, as if what I said was just a mundane platitude.

Marlee began coughing and spluttering her passion fruit margarita across the table, while she held up her hand telling me she was okay.

"Shut - the - fuck - up. Andy Gloss, captain of the Hearts," she again glanced at her watch, "Who is now on TV in six minutes, went down on you?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Yup." I said, having a sip before plucking the apple slice from the top and taking a bite. "And it was fucking amazing. He was kind of bossy and surprisingly, I think I was into that assertive show me who's boss ." I said, my face scrunching in mock disgust.

"Scratch my four minutes, I'm boring compared to this saga. I want to know everything." She said, sliding closer to me. I could smell the vodka on her breath and noticing the two empty glasses on the table, I patted her hand.

"I'm sorry I was late. I will repay you with all of the juicy details." Which resulted in her larger-than-life smile, clearly happy with my apology. I gave the recount my best theatrics to emphasise how sorry I was for my tardiness.

When the siren echoed through the bar indicating the game was about to start, we had each guzzled our drink and Marlee had been provided a very quick, yet adequately graphic version of what happened between Andy and I.

Using a menu to fan herself she sighed. "I am disgustingly jealous. When will I be devoured on top of a spa while looking out across Sydney."

"It seems unreal and incongruous to my regular life. But girl it was hot."

As we turned to the screen, the cameras panned to Andy and an opposing player shaking hands. They shared a brief interaction and his consequential smile made my heart stutter. A black jersey was pulled tight across his thick chest and abdomen, his biceps glistening under the lights on the field.

"Shit, he looks shiny. Those arms!" I muttered, fanning myself, exaggeratingly replicating her earlier gesture.

"They use oil so it's more difficult for the opposition to tackle them." Marlee informed.

"It seems I like oil on a man." I added, flicking her a sultry side gaze.

Despite being snowed under at work, I found myself constantly distracted thinking about him and reliving every moment from our date. He messaged me this morning telling me he couldn't wait to taste me again and it was enough to send me reaching for my vibrator as I brought myself a little relief. I was going to need new batteries soon because the idea of him and that tongue made me hot and needy in a way I had never been before.

"How's Lucas?" I asked, talking to the side of Marlee's head now that the game had started.

We were watching for very different reasons. She genuinely cared about the outcome, amplified by the fact that she had already aggressively yelled at the television with little regard for anyone else at the surrounding tables. I, however, watched to perve on Andy and because I needed to learn a little more about this game. I spent some time today putting the images into the feature and tidying up what was already written. It was coming together nicely and I was really proud of its current status, but more information could never hurt.

"Really good." Her eyes stayed on the screen but she smiled like a teenager who was thinking of her first crush.

"Did he eat your pussy after you shaved?" I asked and Marlee swung her gaze to meet mine.

"Bitch, lower your voice." I cackled at her embarrassment which gave me the answer I was looking for.

"Oh, he definitely did. Was it amazing?"

"Yeah, it was good." She answered quietly, her smile faltering as she turned to the game.

"Did he make your toes curl?" I intentionally kept my tone light mindful of the obvious change in her emotions.

"Ugh. Well…no. I mean it was good, but like, I tried to guide him a little and it seemed to annoy him. So, I just faked it and sorted myself once he went home."

"Annoy him how?" I asked, grabbing a handful of the chips on the table and shovelling them into my mouth. I wanted to tell her not to see him again because he was sounding more and more like he didn't deserve her, but I also didn't want to appear too hostile when we hadn't even met.

"Well, he said, ‘ no one else has ever complained ' and kept doing what he was doing. So, I just thought it was easier to fake it." She laughed but it sounded forced.

"Sometimes it takes time, you know? You have to get to know each other, I guess." I wanted to protest but I could see she liked him and didn't want to burst her bubble so the false platitude was all I could muster.

"I can't wait for you to meet him, Arns. He's so sweet and thoughtful. The other day he bought me a bag of oranges. I mean, I told him my favourite fruit is passion fruit, but it's the thought that counts. He doesn't really speak to his parents but his sister is nice and I've told him all about you."

"Let's definitely do dinner so I can tell him about the time you pashed an orange when we were teenagers to make sure you could kiss properly." She burst out laughing, shoving me sideways.

"Oh, piss off. Maybe I should tell Andy – oh come on, that was a bullshit call!" She threw her hands in the air as if the umpires on the other side of the country could hear her. "Dumb arses."

"I think I should watch more games with you, Marls. This is great entertainment."

"Your man's team is getting their tails handed to them. Maybe you should focus more on that." She snapped frustratedly. God her emotions rode the wave of this team's success.

"He isn't my man. I don't know what we are. But whatever it is, I like it and so does Barbs."

She laughed before grabbing the bowl of chips away from me. "Give me these, I need carbs to combat this depression."

Andy: Pack your swimmers tonight. Can't wait to see you.

Waking to a message like that was my new favourite way to start my morning. My heart fluttered and I did a full body stretch before flipping onto my stomach and replying.

Arna: Sounds intriguing. I usually swim naked but I'll find something.

Andy: Even better ;) I'll send Serg over at 6.

I was smiling like a maniac as I showered and got ready for the day. Hearing Paul rustling around in the kitchen, I braced myself for a conversation before I'd even had a coffee.

"Morning, babes."

"Paul, cut that shit out." I said, flicking the kettle on to boil.

"Fine, sorry. Oh, I made you a coffee already when I heard you get out of the shower." He said, pointing to the mug sitting on the counter. It was these little things which reminded me why I was still here. If he would take a little friendly advice on boundaries, he really would make things much more amenable around here.

"Thanks, Paul. Appreciate it." I grabbed a muesli bar and sat at the table.

"What are you up to today? Want to have lunch?" I gave him a side eye because while he was nice there was no way we were ever having lunch again. The one time I accepted his offer, he took it as confirmation of us dating and changed his Facebook status to ‘ in a relationship ' and tagged me.

"I'm going to get my nails done. Thanks anyway. I'm heading out tonight too." I knew I didn't need to tell him, however, I generally did as a courtesy.

"With the Talons' captain again? He better be treating you well or –"

"Or what?" I interjected, my brows raised in challenge. Paul didn't reply, instead taking a bite of his toast and shrugging.

"His name is Andy and he is the captain of the Hearts, not the Talons. Thanks for the coffee. There is some leftover pasta in the fridge if you get hungry later." I said, raising my mug before standing to finish getting ready.

"Arna," Paul said, his voice a little quieter than normal.

"Yeah?" I raised a brow, assessing him as he looked up towards the roof as if he was pondering his next words.

"How do you know if…" He paused before shaking his head and continuing. "How will I know when…" Again, he stopped, unable to verbalise whatever he was thinking.

"Paul," I said patiently, his eyes lifting to mine. "What's up?" He seemed nervous. More awkward than I was used to seeing.

"How do I know if someone is interested in me?" He reached for his headphones, untwisting the cord like he did before he played. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling because while sometimes I wanted to choke him, right now he was a little bit cute.

"Have you been speaking to someone?" I asked, pointing towards his computer. When I first moved in, the only two things he told me were that he didn't want a roommate who would host parties, and he communicated with most people via his gaming consoles as he found social interactions uncomfortable. Feeling this would suit me perfectly, I moved in the next day. His inability to randomly meet new people due to how much he despised small talk, meant he could only have met someone at work or online, and given he worked from home most days, it was an educated guess to assume he was referring to someone online.

He shrugged, "Sort of. I don't even know her name other than VenomHuntress23 ."

"How often does she message you?" I asked, suddenly very interested in who this person was and why my question made him blush so much.

"Most days. But how do I know if she – or what if – oh, forget it." He averted his gaze and dismissed me with his hand, evidently done with the conversation.

I turned away not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable but before I walked into my room, I paused and spoke to the back of his head as he turned his computer on.

"If she is messaging you first most days, I think she is probably interested. Why don't you take her to dinner and see if it is different in person." I didn't wait for his reply to my suggestion knowing he would initially scoff at the idea, needing time to process. But as I closed my door and unlocked my phone, I couldn't wipe the small smile that my little gamer roommate might be able to go on a date of his own.

Arna: What you up to? I'm hitting the Mall. You keen?

Marlee: Lucas has something planned apparently. Sorry. Xx

Arna: I hope it involves you getting laid. Organise for us to meet asap. xo

I was laying on my bed reading Ana Huang's latest novel when my phone buzzed, breaking me from a steamy scene. It was probably for the best, because I had no business reading such a book before I went to see Andy tonight.

I'd finished all my regular Sunday chores and I wasn't needed in the office for once so it was a rare moment when I could lose myself in a novel with no interruptions.

Glancing at the screen, I groaned when I saw it was Darren. So much for not being needed at work.

I wanted to ignore it, throw the screeching device under my pillow and return to the twisted world of my book, but the work guilt set in and I took a deep breath before answering.

"Hi, Darren." My voice was much perkier than I felt at taking his call. On - my - Sunday.

"Arna, I've sent you a manuscript." Oh, no, don't apologise, you didn't interrupt my weekend.

"Oh." I so desperately wanted to tell him I didn't care or offer to read it first thing tomorrow during business hours but he knew as well as I did that, I wouldn't do that.

"It slipped through the cracks but it is set to go in tomorrow's edition. Any chance you could have it ready for publishing today? I would do it myself but I am snowed under, finalising some of the other articles, you know?" Another thing we both knew – he was not finalising shit. He simply couldn't be bothered and knew someone else would do it for him. Someone else being me.

"Argh, sure. I guess. I'll look now." I stuck my middle finger up into the air mouthing fuck off for good measure, wishing I could do it to him for real.

"Thank you so much, Arna. These are the things that will be considered when we select the Senior Editor." And there it was. The carrot he constantly dangled which allowed him to have me working on my weekends and doing far more than the other editors.

"No worries, happy to help." I lied.

"How's the Gloss article? Ready for Flick and I to have a read yet?" It grated on me how he coupled her with him, as if I needed them both to proof my work. He knew I was his best editor.

"I'm really happy with it. Probably only need another hour or two with him before I finalise."

I could easily publish the article in the next edition, but the premise of needing to meet with Andy for the feature was something I wasn't ready to lose. What if he realised he had no reason to see me anymore or he wasn't happy with what I wrote and it placed a wedge between us?

"Hmmmm." Darren hummed and it felt heavy with implication. I didn't say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. I knew he was again thinking about my ability to remain impartial but his hands were tied. Andy would only work with me – which I secretly loved – not only for the grievance this caused my boss but also for the boost to my self-esteem.

When he finally did speak, his tone was measured. "Arna, we must ensure that personal biases, or shall we say – distractions – don't cloud our judgement in our reporting." There was absolutely nothing subtle about the scrutiny underlying his attempt at a professional facade. The implication behind his words made the back of my neck prickle with unease and I closed my eyes, pressing my thumb and middle finger into my temples. "We wouldn't want any outside influences affecting the accuracy of our stories." He finished.

Maintaining a composure I was not even close to feeling, I spoke calmly but with an assertion which dared him to argue. "Darren, I understand the importance of journalistic integrity and I will again assure you that it's something I take very seriously. My personal life has never interfered with my professional duties before, and that won't start now. I'm committed to delivering a fair and unbiased representation of Andy Gloss regardless of these outside influences of which you speak."

This prick was begging me to tell him where to go in questioning my ability to remain ethical. It was a Sunday and he had the gall to both request work from me and then throw shade about something he clearly knew nothing about.

He coughed, obviously taken aback by my bold reply. Mother-fucker was testing my patience.

"I best get started on this edit. I will send it through once it's done." I asserted.

"Thanks." He clipped, hanging up without an apology or any further comment.

"Fuck you." I yelled into my now disconnected phone while reaching for my laptop.

Opening the document, I scrolled the four-page article which was of course riddled with errors. This was going to take the rest of the afternoon. I regrettably threw my novel to the side and began the tedious task of correcting another piece of garbage.