14
Owen
It’s the most important month of my legal career to date and I can’t focus for shit, all because of the she-devil temptress that is Amelia Mercado.
Partner decisions are coming out in August, and it’s between me and one other guy.
Our current work will be evaluated as essentially our application materials, so I need my full focus on the matter at hand: pristine contracts, flawless negotiations, immaculate regulatory adherence.
Instead, I’m thinking about the pink of Amelia’s mouth, the fantastic, venomous words that come out of it, the things I would do to get just one more taste.
It’s no secret that I find her attractive.
I made that abundantly clear from the first day we met.
In fact, it had become something of a running joke between us, how much I want her—to the point where I wasn’t prepared for even the slightest possibility she would take me up on my offer, let alone initiate something.
Ah fuck. I’m insane! I must be completely insane for saying no to her.
The truth is, I turned her down at the wedding not because of the risk—the dark corner we found ourselves in, secluded from the rest of the party by no more than shadows and angles—but because, in the heat of the moment, I couldn't get a hold on my emotions.
Sex is supposed to be simple, transactional, a release. If I’d fucked Amelia at Andy’s wedding, it would’ve been the opposite of that. It would’ve been an escalation, desperate and raw.
The whole day of the wedding, as I watched my brother marry the love of his life, I could feel the string of Amelia’s commanding personality tightening around my heart. I felt… defenseless.
Even now, three days later, I can’t think about anything else.
The matter I’m working on now will affect my entire legal career and my brain is caught on the soft skin of her neck.
Those eyes like whiskey, turning me impulsive and wild.
The sharp bite of her words, the confidence in her posture, her loyalty and her laughter.
That witch’s cackle I now hear in my dreams.
Fuck me. I can’t remember ever being this down bad for a girl.
Andy and Sophie left for their two-week honeymoon yesterday, which means if there was ever a time to make an idiotic decision where Amelia is concerned, it’s now. But what would I even say to her?
I don’t know what that was at the wedding, but I want more.
I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m not sure if I like it.
You’re a malicious witch and I’m completely under your spell. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, anything, everything, as long as I can touch you again.
I take out my phone and type a hurried text, hitting send before better judgement can stop me.
Owen: Hey
Regret hits like a brick wall.
Hey? Did I just text Amelia Mercado Hey????? The fuck is wrong with me? See, this is why I don’t do this. The second I let myself get invested in a woman I become a fucking idiot, can’t remember how to speak, lose sight of reality entirely.
I slam my phone onto my desk and start to walk away.
Though, wait. Maybe it would be less weird if I added more.
Is it too late to add more?
I should add more.
I cross back to my desk.
What about “Sup?”
No—stop. That’s horrible. But I should say something else. Maybe—
There’s a buzz from the desktop. I flip my phone over. There’s a new text there.
Amelia: hi?
She said hi back.
Okay. This is good. This is an opening. Don’t overthink it. Have a conversation. I’ve had conversations before.
Owen: Thanks for last weekend.
I physically cringe at myself, but it’s the best I can do.
Amelia: ur not gonna make things weird now right
Owen: Nope
Amelia: good
Now’s my chance. I brace for the humiliation of rejection and force myself to keep going.
Owen: I want to see you again
Amelia: yeah that was a one time thing buddy
Amelia: enjoy the memory
Owen: Okay
Owen: I still want to see you
Owen: Soon
Amelia: are you asking me on a date?
Owen: If you want to go on a date then yes. If you don’t then just hanging out as friends.
Amelia: hanging out as your pseudo sister in law
Owen: Jesus, don’t say that
Amelia: what? in laws can’t eat face anymore?
Amelia: woke culture strikes again
Owen: I’m not dignifying that with a response
Amelia: ^ he responds
My hand scratches over my beard and I find a smile there. This damn woman and her acidic wit.
Owen: Saturday is Porchfest in JP. Want to go? I’ll pick you up at noon?
Amelia: not the ica?
Amelia: i must really be special
Owen: You already know you are
Amelia: in that case, see you saturday