Chapter 5 #3
“I just prefer things organized. It’s not a compulsion.
It helps me think to be doing something relatively mindless with my hands, so I started rearranging my stuff.
Alphabetical, reverse alphabetical, by color, size, shape…
I got so sick of just doing my own stuff that I went to Andrew’s place and did his.
Now it’s just habit if I’m not doing anything else. ”
Well, that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard since starting work at CSG. My mind catches on something he said.
“It helps you think? Like, about work?”
He nods, the smile disappearing. “Yes. Well, you’re awake, your brain seems to be functioning, and I’ve done all I can here.”
I’m still trying to catch up with the sudden change of subject when he unlocks the door.
“Wait… you’re leaving?” I blurt stupidly. For fuck’s sake, the man just undid the chain and three locks; what else would he be doing?
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Is your brain not functioning? I find it difficult to tell with humans.”
Dickhead.
“Don’t you think we should talk? Since we’re going to be working together—and I’m sure you’re going to be a delight to work with.”
He leans against the doorframe and glowers at me. I refuse to be intimidated and glare right back.
“Talk about what?”
Really? Really?
“How about the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve been in my apartment? Or the fact that you’re such a rude asshole that you fucked me and then ignored my existence?”
He rolls his eyes, and I swear my blood pressure skyrockets. “What did you want from me? You didn’t really think a relationship was going to come from picking up a stranger in a bar, did you?”
“Of course not! But would it have been too much to ask that you didn’t act like I’m someone else’s used condom that you just found in your soup?”
He blinks, then shakes his head. “I didn’t—”
“Oh yes, you absolutely fucking did,” I assert.
“And anytime in the past five years that we’ve even been in the same general area, you did the same thing.
I couldn’t even glance in your direction without you acting like—like…
like I’d spat in your drink.” I can’t think of a better analogy on the fly like this.
“People have even mentioned it to me!” Well, one person.
“Is it because I’m human? Or are you just a complete douche to everyone you hook up with? ”
The glower is back. “I am not speciesist.”
“Are you sure? Because word in the office is that you’ve never had a good thing to say about a human.”
The glare intensifies. “I’m fucking allowed to get pissed off at the humans I have to deal with in my job.
Most of them are trying to expose our community and put our safety at risk.
But that doesn’t mean I hate humanity. I don’t talk about my personal life at work, and the only humans I have contact with through work suck, so people at the office probably have a biased perspective.
Why would I have picked you up if I hated your species? ”
I shrug. “How am I supposed to know? The second you were done fucking me, I became public enemy number one to you.”
He opens his mouth to respond—angrily, if his expression is any indicator—then closes it.
“Fine,” he finally snaps. “Maybe I reacted badly to seeing you in the office. That’s only because I wasn’t expecting you to be there.
Nobody reacts well to having a one-nighter suddenly show up at their workplace—and I thought there could never be even a chance of it happening, because you’re human! ”
I sneer. “And it’s taken you five years to get over your shock?”
“No,” he growls, and I’m ashamed to say that the sound sends a shockwave of lust through me. “But what the fuck was I supposed to say to you? It just seemed easier to…” He trails off, looking uncomfortable—looking suddenly more approachable.
I nod. “Right.” I take a deep breath and rub my forehead.
“Look, I guess it doesn’t matter. If you don’t actually hate me and don’t have a problem working with me, then we should just…
forget it all ever happened.” It’s hard to get the words out.
I’m still pissed that he treated me that way.
I’m hurt, too. And there’s a secret part of me that regrets we can never hook up again.
But hanging on to all that crap is just going to make work difficult, and I love working for CSG. I’m excited about my new role. I’m not ready to walk away from the community.
So I need to let the past go.
Gideon looks like he wants to say something, but just nods. “I don’t have a problem working with you,” he asserts. “I think you’re going to be an asset to the team. I just… really wanted to avoid this conversation.”
Is he serious?
I start to laugh. I laugh so hard, I can’t stop. It’s not that funny, but I still can’t stop laughing.
“Sam?” Gideon’s watching me with this half-amused, half-concerned cast to his usual resting bitch expression.
I wave a hand. “Just go. I’ll see you Monday.” Gasping in a deep breath, I get the laughter under control.
He gives me a strange, almost wistful look, then leaves.
I look around my suddenly empty apartment and wonder how this can possibly be my life.