5. Taylor
CHAPTER 5
Taylor
I shove another bite of filet into my mouth, chewing as little as possible before choking it down. Not even the buttery, melt in your mouth tenderness of a seventy-dollar steak from Gibson’s can take my mind off of the way Austin looked tonight on his date.
“Ugh.” I push my half-eaten plate away and take a long sip of my wine, savoring the dry, deep flavors. “Just you and me this weekend,” I say, grabbing the rest of the bottle and sliding off my barstool to lumber over to my couch.
I reach for my phone and curl into the corner, the TV on low in the background. I open the app, the same one I’ve been burying myself in these last several months since the breakup, and begin to scroll. My For You page is flooded with the usual: funny cat videos and restaurant recommendations around the city, but more and more, it’s thirst traps from guys pretending to be characters from books I’ve read.
A clear sign that my algorithm is starting to change and honestly, I’m not mad about it. At least I can safely fantasize about random hot guys on the internet instead of my business partner and friend that I’ve been lusting after for the last five years. The guilt of a few of those fantasies slipping through the cracks of my brain while I was still with Noah continue to eat at me.
I giggle to myself, sinking deeper into the couch as I click on the profile for one of the guys. He’s handsome, certainly so, the boy next door type with a charming grin and two perfectly placed dimples. He makes direct eye contact with the camera, grinding his hips as his abs flex and he bites his bottom lip. I actually blush watching it, a mix of secondhand embarrassment at the fact he filmed this alone and posted it but also the fact I can’t stop watching him.
“Okay, enough of that,” I say, tossing my phone onto the cushion next to me before reaching for my e-reader. I scroll through what feels like an endless to-be-read list, finally settling on one but giving up after only a few pages.
I can’t focus. I can’t even close my eyes and enjoy a moment of nothingness because every time I try, Austin pops into my head. The way he leaned against the bar tonight when he was talking to me. The way his suits always hug his body like a glove. The way he lets out a sexy little groan every time he stretches out his long, muscular legs when he sits down on the couch in my office.
It’s not the attraction to him that bothers me. Austin Blake isn’t just your conventionally attractive guy next door, he’s a god among men. I’ve seen the way women trip over themselves when he just smiles at them. I’ve seen grown men size him up within seconds of being in a crowd with him because he intimates them just by existing. No, I get the appeal, the general, human, biological attraction that my body can’t help but notice. But it’s the unrelenting desire for him that continues to rear its ugly head and has me spiraling.
“It’s just because of the breakup,” I say to myself, grabbing my glass of wine. “You’re lonely.” I take a sip. “And horny,” I mutter a little more quietly when that needy, achy feeling between my thighs reminds me that she’s still there and no amount of self-satisfaction or even attention from Noah ever really scratched that itch. Another reminder that I need to once again charge my vibrator before I go to bed tonight or I’ll be left frustrated and pissed off like I was when I woke up this morning. Yet another thing I can’t confess to Austin about why I’ve been in a particular moody mood at work lately.
My phone dings with a message from my best friend, Becca. I slide my thumb across the screen to read it. It’s a picture of her, her fiancé Hector, and Hector’s sister Ariana at a Chicago Cubs game. They’re all smiling, squeezing into the frame with a ‘wish you were here’ message along with it.
I should be there. Becca had asked me a month ago to go with them but I was too in my feels at the time to agree to it.
“It’ll be good for you. Come on, Taylor.”
“I would but I am seriously buried in work.”
Becca narrows her eyes. “Buried in work or buried in your feelings over this breakup?”
I shrug, feeling a little frustrated that I even have to say it. “Would it be so bad if I was feeling sad? I mean, we were together for almost five years, Bec. It’s not like it was just a fling.”
“I know,” she says with genuine concern, reaching for my hand, “but at the same time—well, honestly, Taylor, he was a dick and you know that. He could barely be bothered to take you out for your birthday or anniversary and don’t even get me started on how he responded when you mentioned getting married after over four years together.”
I jerk my hand back, her words stinging far too harshly than they should have. My chin begins to quiver.
“You think I don’t know that?” I say, wiping furiously at a stray tear. “I told you that stuff in confidence, when I was hurting and my world was falling apart. I don’t need it thrown back in my face.”
“I’m sorry.” She hangs her head. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.” I reach into my purse and pull out some cash, tossing it onto the table before standing up. “No, please don’t go.”
I square my shoulders. “Look, I know I screwed up choosing him but I still chose him and I lo—” My voice hitches. “I loved him.” It’s all I can get out before the tears start to fall again so I turn and walk out of the café.
It wasn’t my finest moment, walking out dramatically from brunch when my best friend is honest with me about a man who did, in fact, treat me like I was an option rather than a priority. I should be grateful I have a friend who is willing to be so honest with me after biting her tongue all those years to keep from upsetting me. But a few hours later when she showed up to my apartment that night, we wordlessly threw our arms around each other and cried together right in my doorway.
I smile at the picture, wishing I was there, and type out a response.
Taylor
Wish I was too. Have a beer for me. Go Cubbies!
Instead of putting my phone back down and heading to the bathroom to take a shower and get a decent night’s sleep, I flip back over to the social media app and settle in to watch more videos.
The comments from the women on the videos make me audibly laugh.
Damn, does that man need a pet dog? I can bark!
I’m married but it’s not that serious ;)
My husband said you can come over and play!
I can’t help but imagine what these women would say about Austin if they were to see a video or picture of him. Especially in one of his suits or the way he spreads out on my love seat. A surge of giddy excitement pumps through me at the thought of secretly posting him.
But just as quickly, I think about him on his date and wonder if he’s taken her back to his place already. The image of her sitting quietly at their table with a warm smile on her face flashes through my mind. Something about her felt weirdly familiar, like I’d possibly seen or maybe even met her before. I push the thought aside just as quickly as it enters my head, instead focusing on him and her tangled up in his bedsheets. My stomach sours at the thought but I chalk it up to just being jealous. Not because he isn’t with me but because going through a breakup and heartbreak, no matter how much your ex might not have deserved you, is never really easy.
I turn my attention back to my phone, promising myself that this is the last weekend of self-loathing and crying. Starting next week, I’m moving on to the final stage of acceptance and getting my shit back together.
“ O h, come on, we both know the Bulls have been saying it’s a rebuilding year for the better part of half a decade,” Eric, our head of IT, says as he reaches for a donut in the break room. “I think it’s time we just accept the fact they lost their charm when Jordan left.” The smile on his face crinkles his eyes as he takes a huge powdery bite of a jelly-filled donut.
“You old guys”—Austin shakes his head—“always so ready to just dismiss everything the Bulls have done since Jordan left. We had one championship without him. Come on!”
I chuckle to myself, focusing on refilling my coffee cup as both men laugh and tease one another further about their taste in sports.
“Could be worse,” Eric says around another bite, “we could be Pacers fans.”
Austin shudders. “Or Packers fans.”
Both men laugh, Austin’s long legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back against the counter, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. His dark pants pop against his crisp white shirt, the sleeves of which are perfectly folded halfway up his forearms, exposing just enough skin to make my eyes shift to his arms. He’s completely absorbed in his conversation with Eric that he doesn’t realize I’m even looking his way.
Something comes over me and I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. I slide open the camera, turning it to video before hitting record. I hold it awkwardly for a second, finally finding a position that looks more natural, like I’m just focused on something on my screen.
I slowly pour a touch of cream into my coffee, watching Austin on my screen. He laughs at something Eric says, reaching his hand up to run it casually through his silky hair before turning to glance at me for a brief second. I hold my breath, his eyes catching mine so quickly I almost miss the wink he tosses my way before turning back to Eric.
Before he looks my way again, I quickly end the recording and slide my phone into my pocket before walking out of the break room with my coffee. I’m almost giddy when I get back to my desk and close the door behind me. I pull out my phone and open the video, hitting play.
I actually giggle when I watch it for myself. I rewatch it several more times, making sure I didn’t imagine the wink, but I didn’t. It’s there, plain as day. I upload it into the app, adding some trending music I think would fit well and slow it down just a touch.
Before I hit post, I watch it again. The music, the almost slow-motion movement of Austin’s hand through his hair, and the way the camera perfectly captures his smile and that wink… I feel myself blushing. I add a few hashtags and a simple caption that reads: When your boss looks like he belongs on BookTok.
“Oh yeah.” I laugh, rolling my eyes before tossing my phone back onto my desk and turning my focus to work. “The ladies are going to love him.”
By the time my day is finally winding down, I have lost all track of time. I’m once again buried in contracts and due diligence reports, my head pounding and my vision blurring. I toss the stack of papers I’m staring at onto my desk and spin around in my chair to look outside.
Sadly, it’s not something I do very often. Even with a high-rise office in the heart of downtown Chicago, I often forget to even look outside. A feeling of guilt creeps up my throat when I remember why I chose this job in the first place. I wanted to be in control of my career and my life, not tied to billable hours with a major firm, yet here I am. I glance at the clock. It’s already after six which means most everyone else has probably gone for the day.
“Shit,” I groan, turning back to my desk to gather my papers and shut down my computer.
“Let me guess,” Austin says before he even has my office door fully open, “time got away from you and you had no idea how late it actually was?”
“I—” My mouth hangs open for a second. Clearly, I’ve worn that excuse out if he’s calling me out on it. “Fine, you caught me.” I laugh. “But at least I am heading home. I was just shutting things down. Why are you here so late?”
“One of us has to be a workaholic.” He winks.
“Speaking of”—I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder—“I think I’m ready to hire on another attorney. I could really use a better work-life balance.”
“Hmm, almost like I told you so.” He walks with me out of my office and toward the elevator bank, reaching out to hit the button for me before I can. “Noah finally getting tired of the late nights?”
I look up at him, his eyes meeting mine. It’s just the two of us waiting for the elevator, the slightest hint of the Armani Code he wears hanging in the air between us.
“No, nothing like that.” I shift my gaze away from his as the elevator doors open. “Just ready not to be married to my job. I think I promised myself before I took it that I wouldn’t let it happen.”
“Oh, come on.” He steps toward the elevator, holding the doors open once I’m inside. “We both know it’s not about where you work, Tay. It’s who you are. But I agree with you on hiring someone else to help out; you can’t keep working yourself like this.”
My heart does that thing when he calls me that. The same nickname he’s called me pretty much since the day he met me.
“Well, maybe I’m ready to be someone else.” I shrug.
His eyes darken slightly. “Don’t change too much.”
“I won’t,” I say softly.
I don’t know what’s being exchanged between us, but for just a few seconds, it’s like everything around us has fallen away and it’s just us, lost in each other’s gaze. I can’t explain it. All of the air around us is thick and tense. My heart thuds in my chest and my stomach is seconds away from dropping to my feet.
It’s the same feeling I’ve had a few other times with him. Once that night I went over to his apartment after meeting him the day before, another time about two years into our working relationship when we were deliriously working into the early morning hours, and just now.
I have no idea if he feels it too or if it’s all in my head, but either way, I don’t want to know the truth. For far too long I’ve pushed every thought of Austin from my head because it wasn’t fair to Noah… and it wasn’t fair to me.
“Anyway, good night!” I lean forward and hit the lobby button, pulling myself from his trance. Something flashes across his face, a smile replacing that dark look in his eyes.
“Good night, Taylor,” he says in that low register.
I let out a long, shaky breath once the doors close between us. I clutch my purse, staring up at the ceiling and praying that this stupid little crush or whatever it is that’s been bubbling inside me all these years can please pass already.
When I pull out my phone to entertain myself on the train ride home, my jaw hits the floor. The notifications on the app are through the roof. Considering I haven’t posted a single video on this app and only ever posted a random picture of a flower or Becca’s cat on any other app in the last five years, this is beyond unexpected.
I sink down into my seat, my face buried in my phone like everyone else. I rewatch the video again, smiling uncontrollably when I see the thousands of likes and hundreds of comments.
Suddenly, I’m no longer sad about going home alone. I can’t wait to grab some snacks and park myself on the couch while I read through all of the comments.