Adeline
There is nothing quieter than a corporate office.
Other than the occasional munch of a snack, typing, or an office phone ringing, a hushed silence has descended over the cubicles dedicated to interns.
How is it that it’s a perfectly crisp autumn day outside but glum inside? I get work isn’t glamorous, but this is bleak. Despairing.
Or maybe it’s just me.
My arms are folded over the desk, my head on top. There are only two other interns working today, and both have made it very clear they’re not interested in striking up a conversation with me.
Which is great; I love hearing whispers and giggles that they try to cover.
Nothing like a corporate office to really make you feel left out.
I never thought I’d be so desperate to participate in the office gossip.
My phone is dark, no notifications coming in.
Our family group chat has gone mute. Dad usually sends a good morning text to all of us, but he hasn’t today.
Neither did Ciaran.
I tap my phone screen. The time comes up, but nothing else. Not even a news notification.
I slept over at Ciaran’s place last night. That means Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night I slept in his bed. Not that I’m keeping track.
This time last week, I’d never had a man come inside me before. Now it’s happened on multiple occasions.
By biological standards I should be happy, satisfied. I’d grinned last night, Ciaran laughing too, when I rolled over, snuggling into his side. The Irish charm is really starting to work.
So why did I wake up to an empty bed this morning? And why am I being a clingy pick me.
Nat’s voice comes to me, the big sister, even when we aren’t quite on good terms. It’s okay to have expectations of the person you’re sleeping with.
I get that it’s a Monday. I had class too. I wasn’t expecting breakfast in bed. But a kiss on the forehead, a note, a sweet text, or something would have been nice.
It’s all fake anyway, I remind myself. Still with my head on the desk, I cross my arms tighter, holding onto my elbows. An attempt at self-soothing, I think.
I shouldn’t be sad. It’s quite simple our arrangement. Sex and fake boyfriend vibes. That should be all.
“Are you okay?”
I shoot straight up.
The lady from HR has come into our area.
“Sorry.” I smooth my hair back. “A really bad headache.”
It’s not a lie. There’s an achy helmet over my scalp, but the blonde lady looks doubtful.
“Have you taken anything?”
I shake my head.
“I’ve got something.” One of the other interns digs into her bag, coming up with a pill bottle.
“Thanks.”
“Drink some water,” HR lady advises. “If it gets worse and you need to leave, please let me know.”
“Thanks,” I say to her retreating back and to the fellow intern.
The kindness sours when I hear them giggling about how I can’t handle a hangover.
I tap my phone again. Nothing.
Remain calm, Adeline.
I’m tapping away before I can think better of it.
Adeline: You didn’t say good morning.
I slam my phone on the desk, turning it over so I can’t see the screen. Can’t see my foolishness. My willpower lasts only thirty seconds before I pick it up again.
Of course it’s the one time Ciaran immediately checks his messages.
Ciaran: You were asleep.
I could do without the logic.
Ciaran: Perhaps you didn’t want to sleep in? Should I have woken you up with an orgasm?
My entire body bursts into flame. With memories and longings.
I darken the screen, dead set on not replying. But a new message pops up, and I’m weak, meaning I check it immediately.
He’s sent a video, and I freeze, incredibly grateful to be alone in a cubicle, because how the hell did I not realize he’s got cameras in his apartment?
I’m in bed, a tangled mess burrowed under the blankets like I like. Ciaran comes into view, already in his button-down, rolling his sleeves up. He perches on the edge of the bed, pulling the covers back.
He smooths my hair back, kissing my forehead.
I have no recollection of this tenderness. Not even a hazy memory of his body being so close.
The moment I’d closed my eyes, I’d been dead to the world until my alarm woke me up. I’d scrambled out of bed, exhaustion clinging to my limbs.
It’s not exactly like I could miss class because I needed to recover from a sex-fueled weekend.
He’d fucked me into oblivion, but instead of sneaking off, treating me like some one-night stand, he’d fixed the bedsheets before he’d left.
Ciaran: To clarify, your definition of the perfect boyfriend doesn’t do this?
My cheeks puff out as I huff.
Before I can respond, another video pops up.
Ciaran: Maybe you’d like this instead?
My mouth drops open, heat licking my skin.
It’s much darker, but the camera picks us out perfectly. My heart begins to hammer as I watch Ciaran roll over in the night. We’d talked about it over the weekend. Him using my body even if I was asleep. But talking about it and watching it are two different things.
The bedcovers come off me, and he nips my breasts, tugging my nipples in his mouth.
My back arches at the movement, but my eyes remain closed. Just like this morning, I have no memory of this. I’m in an endless sleep while Ciaran’s hands roam my body as he settles in between my thighs.
I’m a drumbeat inside as I watch him spread my legs further and slide his cock inside me.
My face burns as I realize that I might be asleep, but my hips roll on their own accord. My back arches again as he hammers into me, a messy, rough fucking.
I’d tripped into the shower this morning, rushing. There’d been so many couplings the night before that I’d assumed the dried cum on my thighs was from one of those events. I have marks all over me, my nipples tender like so many other spots of flesh.
Adeline: So much for making sure you take care of me.
Ciaran: I did take care of you.
Adeline: Then why’d you leave me this morning to wash your dried cum off by myself?
Adeline: You ruin everything.
I turn my phone off before I can see whatever bullshit response he’s got.
“You okay?” one of the interns asks when I stand up.
“Do you have a fever?” the other asks, it dawning on her that I might actually be sick and not hungover.
Only it’s much more mortifying than some red cheeks. The moment I stood up I felt it—how wet I’d gotten from watching the video Ciaran sent.
“I’m going to go,” I tell them faintly.
“Maybe you should go to the doctors?” one suggests.
What I really need to do is go to a priest and ask for a motherfucking exorcism.
I don’t turn my phone on until the next day, but I did see a few messages when I used my laptop for school. I ignored them all.
The next morning on the way to class, a new text comes in.
Ciaran: Good morning, princess.
I ignore the message, not liking his sarcastic tone. But I do pick up when he calls me after my last class of the day.
It’s a nice autumn day, and unknown to many, it’s an important one. Which means nothing can ruin it, not even the most handsome of Irish bastards.
“Let’s get lunch,” he says, not bothering with hello.
“I can’t.” My combat boots crunch a leaf. I hurry at a major junction, crossing the road. I’m almost to the correct destination.
A growl rattles around Ciaran’s throat. It’d be very impressive if I cared. “I put lunch on your calendar.”
“And I deleted it.”
“Adeline.”
“Hacking my calendar doesn’t mean you control it.”
“Come on, I know class is out. Let me buy you lunch.”
“At the same restaurant Jack Rollings likes to dine?” He’s got major investments in the EU.
I know because I’ve been studying. I snagged the guest list from Mom’s party, and I’ve systematically begun to go person by person, taking notes. Even the dates guests brought are being looked into.
Ciaran is quiet for a moment, and I feel the way he debates. He can either bring up yesterday and apologize or focus on work.
“Adeline, it’s part of the deal.”
Something releases in my chest. Not relief, not hope, just simple cold hard facts.
He’s got his priorities. And I’ve got mine.
I hold my chin up, dodging around pedestrians, as I speak into the phone. “True, but Ciaran, the day was already blocked off. Access to my calendar does not entitle you to rearrange shit. If you want to do lunch, send me a calendar invite like a normal fucking boyfriend.”
I end the call before he can speak again, staring up at one of the best places in the entire world—my favorite bookstore.