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“You didn’t,” he retorts, fighting back.
“Instead of the two of us going back and forth over who made mistakes and who didn’t, let’s decide what we’re going to do with our day after the oil change.”
“You’ll get an iPhone,” he says.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want an iPhone . . . ?” I grumble. My phone is slow, yes, but iPhones are expensive and complicated—two things I can’t afford to add to my life right now.
“Everyone wants an iPhone. You’re just one of those people who don’t want to give in to the trend.” He looks over at me, and I see his dimples pucker evilly. “That’s why you were still wearing floor-length skirts in college.” Finding himself absolutely hilarious, he fills the car with his laughter.
I playfully scowl at his overused dig. “I can’t afford one right now anyway. I have to save my money for an apartment and groceries. You know, the necessities.” I roll my eyes, but smile back at him to soften the blow.
“Imagine the things we could do if you had an iPhone, too. There’d be even more ways for us to communicate, and you know I’d get it for you, so don’t mention the money again.”
“What I can imagine is doing things like tracking my phone so you could see where I go,” I tease, ignoring his overpowering need to buy me things.
“No, like we could video-chat.”
“Why would we do that?”
He looks at me as if I’ve grown another set of eyes and shakes his head. “Because, imagine being able to see me each day on your shiny new iPhone screen.”
Images of phone sex and video chats immediately spring into mind, and I shamelessly run through shots of Hardin touching himself on the screen. What is wrong with me?
My cheeks heat, and I can’t help but glance at his lap.
With one finger under my chin, Hardin tilts my face up to look at him. “You’re thinking about it . . . going over all the dirty shit I could do to you via iPhone.”
“No, I’m not.” Holding tight to my stubborn refusal to get a new cell phone, I change the subject. “My new office is nice . . . the view is incredible.”
“Is it?” Hardin’s tone immediately turns somber.
“Yes, and the view from the lunchroom is even better. Trevor’s office has—” I stop myself from finishing the sentence, but it’s too late. Hardin is already glaring at me, expecting me to finish.
“No, no. Continue.”
“Trevor’s office has the best view,” I tell him, my voice coming out much more clear and steady than I’m feeling on the inside.
“Just how often are you in his office, Tessa?” Hardin’s eyes flicker to me and then back to the road.
“I’ve been there twice this week. We have lunch together.”
“You what?” Hardin snaps. I knew I should have waited until after dinner to bring up Trevor. Or not brought him up at all. I shouldn’t even have mentioned his name.
“I have lunch with him, usually,” I admit. Unfortunately for me, at that moment my car is stopped at a red light, leaving me no choice but to be at the receiving end of Hardin’s glare.
“Every day?”
“Yes . . .”
“Is there a reason behind it?”
“He’s the only person I know that has the same lunch hour as me. Kimberly’s so busy helping Christian that she hasn’t even been taking a lunch hour.” Both of my hands move in front of my face to aid in my explanation.
“So have your lunch hour changed.” The light turns green, but Hardin doesn’t step on the gas pedal until an angry horn sounds from behind us in the line of traffic.
“I’m not having my lunch hour changed. Trevor is my coworker, end of story.”
“Well,” Hardin breathes, “I would prefer you not to eat lunch with fucking Trevor. I can’t stand him.”
Laughing, I reach down onto my lap and place my hand on top of Hardin’s. “You’re being irrationally jealous, and it happens that there’s no one else for me to have lunch with, especially when the other two women that share the same lunch hour have been mean to me all week.”
He glances sideways at me while switching lanes smoothly. “What do you mean, they’ve been mean to you?”
“They haven’t been mean exactly. I don’t know, maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“What happened? Tell me,” he urges.
“It’s nothing serious, I just get the feeling that they don’t like me for some reason. I always catch the two of them laughing or whispering while staring at me. Trevor said they like to gossip, and I swear I heard them say something about how I got the job.”
“They said what?” Hardin sneers. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel.
“They made a comment, something like ‘we know how she got the job anyway.’?”
“Did you say something to them? Or to Christian?”
“No, I don’t want to cause any problems. I’ve only been there a week, and I don’t want to run and tattle on them like a schoolgirl.”
“Fuck that. You need to tell those women to fuck off, or I’ll tell Christian myself. What are their names? I may know them.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, trying to deactivate the bomb I’ve clearly assembled myself. “Every office has a set of catty women. The ones in mine just happen to have targeted me. I don’t want this to be a thing; I just want to blend in there and maybe even make some friends.”