Chapter 9 It’s the Forearm Tattoos for Me #2
Like there was never a scenario where he wouldn't have done this for me.
And that—more than the food, more than the absurd deliciousness of it—unsettles me the most. The certainty in his voice, the way he takes care of me without being asked, without expecting anything in return.
I swallow, not sure how to respond to this unexpected kindness.
So I don't.
Instead, I move into work mode, brushing crumbs from my fingers as I pull up my tablet. The screen lights up with today's schedule, a welcome distraction from the scrutiny in his eyes. "Alright, so let's get started. What's your official head-of-security rundown?"
His eyes linger for half a second longer, like he's still thinking about something else.
Then he nods.
By the time I drag myself back to my office, Callahan is still on my mind.
Not just because of the breakfast. Or the way he watches me like he actually notices things other people don't—the slight frown when I mention skipping lunch, how his eyes track my movements when I speak, as if cataloging every gesture.
But because his eyes are green.
I didn't even realize that last night when I was setting up Caleb.
I drop into my chair and rub my temples.
Jesus. I need therapy. Or at least a conversation with someone who isn't my impossibly hot colleague, my emotionally unavailable boyfriend, or an AI programmed to say exactly what I want to hear.
Before I can fully spiral into that depressing thought, Amanda breezes in—bright-eyed, wearing sky-high heels I'd break my neck in, radiating an energy that makes me question whether she's powered by caffeine or pure, unfiltered chaos.
She flops into the chair across from me, tossing her tablet onto my desk with a clatter. "Alright, let's get this over with—what fresh hell do we have to deal with today?"
I flip open my own tablet. "VIP fittings, a shipment delay that corporate swears isn't a delay, and Callahan being entirely too prepared for his job."
Amanda's eyes practically sparkle at the mention of his name, her perfectly glossed lips curving into a smile. "Oh, we're bringing up Callahan now? Voluntarily? Interesting."
I scowl at her, the heat returning to my cheeks. "Not where I was going with that."
Her lips twitch but she lets it go. For now. I know that look—she's storing this information away for later torture.
We run through the schedule, planning out the day's tasks, but I can feel Amanda watching me too closely. Her eyes keep darting to my face when she thinks I'm not looking, like she knows something I don't.
Then, way too casually, she says, "So, how's Obsess AI?"
I freeze, my finger hovering over the tablet screen.
Triumph lights up her face. "Oh my God, you used it."
"I did not," I say immediately. Too immediately. My voice sounds defensive even to my own ears.
Amanda cackles, completely unbothered by my denial. "No, you totally did. I can tell. You have that look."
I glare at her, adjusting my posture. "I opened it. That doesn't mean I used it."
Amanda hums like she's pretending to consider that, then, before I can stop her, she snatches my phone from the desk, her manicured nails clicking against the screen as she navigates to my apps. How this woman even knows my pin code is beyond me.
"Amanda, give that back!" I reach for it, but she's already dancing out of my reach.
She dodges me effortlessly, tapping into the app, her eyes widening as she scrolls through whatever she's finding there.
A beat of silence followed by a loud, dramatic gasp that could win her an Oscar.
"Oh. My. God." Her eyes snap to mine, gleeful and scandalized. "You programmed Callahan."
I go completely rigid, my heart stuttering before it slams into a sprint. "No, I didn’t."
She holds up the screen, pointing to the custom avatar I created. "You did. You so did. Dark hair, green eyes, tattoos? Come on!"
I lunge for my phone, nearly knocking over my coffee in the process. "It's just—it's not—he was the last guy I saw or something! It's a coincidence!"
Amanda laughs so hard she nearly drops my phone, the sound echoing in my small office. "A coincidence? Sweetie, you basically built him from memory. You even gave him a sleeve tattoo!"
I groan, covering my face with my hands. "Shut up."
"Oh, no. No, no, no." Amanda spins the phone back to herself, grinning like she's about to ruin my entire life. "I am so proud of this. This is the best thing you've done in months. Years maybe."
I glare at her between my fingers. "Give it back."
She ignores me, scrolling through the app with increasing delight. "Let's see what we've got here..."
Her eyes read over the conversation from last night. Then her expression shifts, her excitement fading into disappointment.
"...Girl."
I do not like her tone. Not one bit.
She looks up, eyebrows raised. "You are not using this right."
I narrow my eyes, dropping my hands to my lap. "What does that mean?"
Amanda tosses my phone onto the desk with a clatter. "You're doing wholesome shit. 'Go to sleep, pretty girl.' 'Did you rest well?' This is so... vanilla."
I’m not sure what she expected. "And?"
She gives me a look like I'm missing something obvious. "I told you—filthy in the DMs. That's the whole point!"
I do not like where this is going. The realization of what she wants hits me, and I reach for my phone. "Amanda—"
"Nope. We're fixing this." She snatches the phone back before I can grab it.
"Amanda, don't you—"
Her thumbs fly across the screen as she types something quickly, then slaps it back onto the desk with a triumphant smile.
"There. Got you started. Popped the cherry, as it were."
I’m horrified at what she might have written, afraid to even pick it up.
"Oh no," I whisper. "What did you say?"
Amanda beams, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "You're welcome."
"This is so beyond inappropriate."
Amanda rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Why? It's fiction. You can be as insane as you want. That's the whole point of having a digital boyfriend—you get to explore without consequences. Without judgment."
I groan, grabbing my phone and pointing toward the door. "Leave. Now. Before I fire you."
Amanda laughs, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she struts toward the exit. "Oh, you're welcome, sweetie. Thank me later when you're having the best orgasm of your life."
The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me alone with my phone and whatever digital disaster she's just created.
I stare at my phone, afraid to even look at what she's written.
And then, against all better judgment, against every rational thought in my head, I tap the chat.