Page 3 of Tall, Dark, and Grumpy

“Are you sure they’re coming?” the man asks, a sarky tone to his question.

“Yes,” I lie. I check over my shoulder at my housemates, who still aren’t looking at me. They’ve probably forgotten I exist.

I’m on my own, stuck at the bar with seven vodka shots and a man I’m feeling increasingly uncomfortable with.

I open my messages, press the top contact blindly, hyper-aware of leaning away from the man next to me. Tapping something out, I hit send before my brain catches up with what I’m doing.

Cassie

Hi

And I realise I’ve messaged myboss.

“If I were you, I’d just down those shots and have agood timewith who’s here,” the man says suggestively, as I stare in horror at my phone.

What have I done? Can I…? Cold horror trickles down my spine.

If I delete the message, it will still show up as having been sent and then deleted. Mr Blackwood is going to know.

“If you’re short of company, you can join me,” the man continues. “Who are you texting?”

“My bo…boyfriend.” The word just pops out.

I nearly said boss. That’s even more tragic than a made-up boyfriend, isn’t it? Texting your boss on a Friday night? Nevermind that we text often. Exciting conversations like, “Come to my office,” and “I’ve finished the report you asked for”.

“He’s stood you up on a Friday night, huh?” the man scoffs.

“No.” I can’t manage this intruder, and I cannot fix that I messaged my boss. I’m a failure. Can this night get any worse?

Alcohol is supposed to improve everything, isn’t it? I reach out and grab one of the shots. It’s a blue the colour of Mr Blackwood’s eyes—how appropriate—and I knock it back in one. The vodka burns my throat, and I cough.

“That’s it!” The man next to me laughs.

I ignore him, slam down the glass and type “Sorry” into the messaging app. Then I stop. Because how many times over the last month has Mr Blackwood messaged me at all hours? Sometimes early in the morning, as though he can’t sleep.

He probably hasn’t even seen it. He’ll be having a sophisticated dinner with a blonde woman who talks to him about quantum physics or something. Or makes him laugh.

He won’t be looking out for a message from me. I bet on a Friday night he?—

The tick changes colour, indicating he’s seen the message.

Oh. Shit.

That was super quick. I didn’t think he… Scrap that. I didn’t think. I felt threatened by the man next to me, and my body messaged the person I contact most often. And, if I’m honest, the person who makes me feel safe. Mr Blackwood.

But it’s okay. He’ll ignore it. I glance down at my phone.

Boss

…

The three balls bounce. My heart stops. He hasn’t just seen my message casually. Whatever I thought I could get away with, I was wrong.

Because my boss is texting me back.

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VITO