Chapter 17
17
I HATE IT HERE
I t’s been almost three weeks since Riley and I had played hooky. The day was spent with a series of naps, groans of headaches, greasy takeout orders, and binge-watching episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm .
A much different type of day than the one I’m having today. Bored out of my ever-loving mind doing tedious tasks to onboard a new client that won’t make much of a splash in my career. While Greg acts like the big man on campus. Secretly floundering the opportunity that’s been handed to him on a silver platter to take on the project that I had wanted more than anyone here.
Normally I would offer my help, but whenever I look at him, I see that smug expression on his face when I walked into the office and saw he had landed the project without lifting so much as a finger in effort.
Call me Petty Betty. I really don’t care.
Instead, I decide to text Riley. We haven’t had a chance to hang out again since the day of our hangover, but we have fallen into a routine of conversing about everything and anything via text.
Amelia
SOS. Legal Advice. Is it illegal for a company to bore their employees to death? ??
Amelia
Add this to my tab.
It takes less than a minute from the moment I place my phone down for it to vibrate with Riley’s reply.
Riley
In my professional opinion, it could be considered poor working conditions and grounds for legal action. Reply “Yes” if you’d like to proceed with a formal complaint.
Riley
Free of charge.
Amelia
YES!
I let out a soft chuckle. I lay my phone screen side down to not get distracted so I can carry on with my work.
Within the last three weeks, Riley has become one of my closest friends or whatever people are after three weeks. And whatever you call people that you get along with but also want to jump their bones at any given chance, that is what Riley has become.
I had asked him if he wanted a movie night last week but he complained about how he had been buried in a merger negotiation between two companies that was taking far longer than expected to come to an agreement but that he wanted to have one when the merger was signed, sealed, and delivered.
I didn’t even pretend to understand the mergers and acquisitions side of corporate law, or any part of corporate law for that matter. I missed that part of my training at Thatcher Inc., which is embarrassing since that was the main reason my father’s company had grown into the size that it is…by gobbling up smaller companies and merging them into his. The closest reference guide I have to anything remotely close to Riley’s wheelhouse was my occasional Law and Order: SVU marathon.
He replied with an “ LOL ” and a virtual eye roll at that. “Y ea, and I’m sure Grey’s Anatomy is a true representation of a day in the life of a doctor.”
I knew it wasn’t. Every nurse or doctor will be the first to tell you how unrealistic it is compared to true life at the mere mention of that show, but I don’t care. Grey’s Anatomy and Law and Order: SVU are my guilty pleasure shows, to hell with reality. Two shows I have every intention of watching back to back tonight, except a text from Sam is about to spoil those plans.
Sam
Babe!
I’m not sure if Sam even knows my real name anymore. I’ve been Babe to Sam for as long as I can remember unless the occasional Amy slips out when referring to me to someone else.
Sam
Free tonight? Blondie hottie is pestering me about you!
It’s not like I need the reminder of who Sam is referring to but she sent the same photo from three weeks ago in case memory didn’t serve well enough. I didn’t forget about him, I was just hoping if I didn’t mention him, neither would Sam.
I’m annoyed.
So I text the least annoying person I know at the moment.
Riley.
Also replying back to his earlier response I hadn’t seen until now.
Riley
Please hold while paperwork is being drafted.
Amelia
Change of plans. Can I get a document with enough legal reasoning to get out of date night with Surfer Boy tonight? Whatever the cost. No price is too high.
Riley
No document needed. Tell him you have plans already. I should be finishing up with this merger by two pm – three pm at the latest. Movies at my place or yours at six?
Amelia
I’m done at five. Meet at mine so I can shower - I’ll grab food on the way home! You’re a godsend.
I’m grateful for the perfect timing of Riley’s completed merger. I send Sam a reply letting her know that I wish– a white lie because I don’t –I could but have made other plans for the evening already and to send my regards to Surfer Boy.
The next string of texts, something I should’ve seen coming, are flying in in rapid fire succession.
Sam
What plans?
Sam
With WHO?
Sam
Spill the beans ASAP!!
Sam
Amelia Juliette Thatcher!
Staring at the demanding tone of Sam’s messages, I know that if I don’t just tell her that I’ll be hanging out with Riley, the nagging and virtual interrogation will never end.
Just as expected, once I tell her who my evening plans are with, not only does Sam have more to say, she has to say them in the group chat with Lauren.
Triple Threat
Sam
AMY HAS A DATE!!!!!! ??
Lauren
NEED DEETS NOW. ??
Sam
Hottie from a few weeks ago. I hope she gets laid.
Lauren
It would be about damn time.
Sam
What’s his full name? I need to know what he looks like.
Amelia has left the chat
Lauren has added Amelia to the chat
Amelia
I hate it here.
Lauren
Oh please. You love us!
Sam
If you guys are just “hanging out” can Lauren and I come too?
Amelia
Absolutely NOT.
Lauren
It’s a date then.
Amelia
No it’s not. We’re just friends.
Sam
Suuuuurrrreeeeeee! ??
After taking the next hour discreetly messaging them back and forth while trying not to appear stuck on my phone at my desk, the texts finally slow down. It takes a promise of a play by play at our next girls night for them to leave me alone for the rest of the day so I can get back to work.
The day passes by slower than molasses but it does eventually turn four thirty and it’s time for me to get the hell out of here. I place a to-go order at one of my favorite Peruvian restaurants located on my route home from the office; a family meal consisting of a whole rotisserie chicken, yuca fries, mango salsa, roasted asparagus, and for the sake of coloring, a spinach salad. It’s enough to feed a family of four at least, but it’s always better to have more and have leftovers than to still be hungry.
I pa ck my work tote, re-organize my desk, and push my chair to its rightful position before leaving the office for the day. When I step outside, the heat immediately makes me perspire, forcing me to shed the cardigan I had to wear inside a building that insisted a constant temperature of sixty-six was ideal making it nearly impossible to dress appropriately for inside and outside weather.
The temperature is getting hotter now that it’s nearing the end of May. Summer won’t officially be here until next month but in North Carolina, summer heat could arrive as early as March some years.
This year, mother nature has been kind enough to wait until April before unleashing scorching days hot enough to probably cook an egg on a dark painted vehicle.
The walk home when the weather is this warm is almost unbearable. Between the heavy cardigan draped over one arm, a bag weighed down by too much food in the other, and the heavy tote full of electronics and paperwork slung over my shoulder, it makes it feel like I’m trekking through the Sahara, parched and looking for a mirage of an oasis that isn’t there.
Then all of a sudden the weight on my shoulder eases and the plastic bag that was cutting into my fingertips disappears. I glance up at the person that is gently mugging me, only to see Riley smiling down in my direction causing that insufferable dimple in his cheek to appear.
It had been three weeks since I’d seen him and the time that's lapsed did very little to quell the effects that damned dimple did to the butterflies that have laid dormant since we’ve been apart.
“Hey, Princess.” Riley greets me with such a soft tone. He probably meant it as just a simple hello but the butterflies, having a mind of their own, think they are being greeted with sultry seduction and they flap ferociously as if his voice is their unique mating call.
“Hi,” a scratchier version of my normal voice croaks out. I clear my throat pretending it’s the dry heat causing my voice to crack and not the man that sucks the very air from my lungs every time he’s near. “What are you doing here?” looking down to catch a glimpse at my watch, “it’s only five ten, I wasn’t expecting you for almost another hour.”
He shrugs his shoulders, now carrying the weight he took from me. “Figured I’d come early in case you needed help carrying anything, which, looking at how red your cheeks are, I was right.” He scrutinizes my appearance with such smugness that irks the heck out of me.
“Always the charmer, Rye. ” I emphasize the shortened name knowing it annoys him.
I had said it once over text and his response had been, “ I’m not a piece of bread .” Now I use it whenever I want to get a rise out of him. Wanting to get out of the heat and into a much needed shower, I stop my bickering and usher us towards my building.
We arrive at my place and I have Riley place the bag of food and my work bag on the island before plopping on the couch. The phrase make yourself at home had been said the first day he came over and I’m glad to see that it didn’t need to be said again.
I don’t know why I like seeing him act as if it were the hundredth time he’s been here to hang out with me instead of the second, but I do. He looks comfortable here with me. Everything with us, from the beginning, has felt so natural. Being around Riley or just talking to him fills a need of congenial company I didn’t even kn ow I craved. The friendship with Sam and Lauren is similar, but even with them, there were hardly ever moments of silence like there could be, for long stretches of time, with Riley.
Leaving him on the couch to scroll on his phone, I make my way into the bathroom to quickly shower and change into something more comfortable. Noting that he had opted for a plain olive green t-shirt and a pair of gray joggers…you know the kind that drives girls absolutely insane with lust with how fitted they are. I decide that a pair of loose pajama shorts, a loose fitting t-shirt, and a plain sweatshirt will fit the casual attire dress code for the evening.
I toss my loosely curled hair into a messy bun on top of my head, fish out my thick black rimmed glasses to wear instead of popping in another pair of contacts, and skip touching up my make-up. I figure Riley has already seen me at my worst the day after our unintentional two-person Cinco De Mayo bash, there was no more shame to be had around him anymore which was a good thing since I prefer comfort anyway.