Chapter 3 Flo #2
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to move so I can leave,” I retort, fed up with his critical stare.
I understand Evan’s startled. He’s just come home to someone he doesn’t know in his house, and if I were him, I’d feel the same, but I’ve had a shitty day. The least he could do is thank me for staying with his son.
I don’t look like a sleaze, do I?
Evan immediately moves out of my way. “What have you been doing for the past hour?”
“Oh, just desperately waiting for you to come home so I can ask you to sign my life-sized poster of you I secretly keep in the back of my car. Let me quickly just go and get it,” I say, voice full of sarcasm, lips spread in a fraudulent smile.
He blinks at me before raising a brow, and I roll my eyes.
Jesus. Get a sense of humour.
“I was waiting for someone to show up. Look, I’ve had an awful day. My boss is a grade-A dick, I haven’t eaten since lunch, and it’ll be getting dark soon, so I really just want to go home.”
“Does it look like I’m stopping you?”
With legs carrying me towards the front door, my fingers wrap around the doorknob tightly, and I swivel my head to see Evan gazing down at the toys scattered across the floor. I’d feel a pang of guilt for not cleaning them up before leaving, but he’s being difficult. He can do it.
My eyes shift to how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, plus the sharpness of his jaw.
He could cut ice with it. I see why women fawn over him all the time, except then he probably opens his mouth, and they immediately get frightened and run.
I’m used to dealing with people like him, though.
Usually, they’re a little more willing to let you do things for them, but Evan West is just clearly stubborn.
His eyes skate over me, lingering on my hips for a few seconds, prompting me to pat my pockets.
“I didn’t steal anything, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your eyes did. And if I were going to steal anything from this house, it’d be your kid.” I shoot the toddler a small wink, who’s still balanced on his father’s hip.
“Look, you’re probably going to punch me for this, but… your phone.”
“What about it?” I flash him my screen, but then it dawns on me, and I sigh. “I didn’t take any photos or videos of anything.”
His face is expressionless, so with raised brows, I pull up my gallery on my phone and pass it to Evan. Thank God I don’t have any nudes on there. “See? I don’t care about you enough to remind myself of the moment we met. Sorry to burst your bubble."
There’s a flash of humour that passes through Evan’s ice greys, however, it disappears quickly and is replaced with a grouchy frown. He clears his throat and passes my phone back, eyes flitting to the door.
Before I go, I direct my attention to Leo, who’s studying me with a pouted bottom lip and bunched eyebrows.
“Bye, Flo. Donkey says Thank You.”
I smile at him. “Bye, Leo. Tell Donkey he’s very welcome.”
Evan’s jaw tightens as he looks at his son’s face, then he quickly drags his gaze away and focuses on my form, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He remains stiff, as still as a statue, and I take one last glance at him and pop a brow before opening the front door and leaving.
My twitchy fingers squeeze the car keys in my hand, unable to keep still, and I can’t tell if it’s because my sugar level has dropped too low—I can check using my phone app connected to my CGM device—or I’m frustrated with the way Evan just looked at me.
I don’t know what the hell just happened in there. It was a little bit of a blur. But if I’ve just learned one thing, it’s that the tabloids aren’t exaggerating when they say Evan is a grouchy and uptight hell of a man.
Never seeing him again would be far too soon.
“And Alexander didn’t freak out or anything?” my best friend, Mae, asks as we sit inside Mug & Mingle, a new coffee shop that just opened up near the Missarali Storks Stadium.
Poppy, Mae’s fellow cheerleader and her boyfriend’s little sister, takes a seat beside us after collecting her chocolate croissant from the service counter.
I shrug, slurping on my iced matcha latte. “It’s Alexander. The only time he’ll ever show any kind of personality is when he’s arguing with the office vending machine about stealing his dollar. He didn’t even care.”
“Are you sure about quitting, Flo? You’ve been with Starbound for years.”
“It’s not rewarding.” My fingers grip my plastic cup tightly.
I hate being vulnerable. I’d rather not express my deepest emotions.
Instead, opting for stuffing them somewhere just behind my heart, where no one can access them, sometimes not even myself.
Life is easier when you’re carefree. “I’m not passionate about being a talent agent, so it’s best I get out now.
I don’t want to be trapped in an industry like that.
It was probably a blessing in disguise.”
Although, now I have to start from scratch, and I have no idea where to go from here.
I’m envious of my best friend. She’s always known what she wants to do. Animals have always been her passion, and she works at the local animal shelter, is a cheerleader for the Storks, and is also a bartender at a local bar. In the words of Sabrina Carpenter, she’s a busy woman.
She’s also dating the ex-captain of the Storks, Nathan Slater, and they have a perfect little life.
Meanwhile, mine feels messy.
But me being me, I pretend not to care.
“Exactly, you’re only twenty-six. You’ve still got time. Plus, you’re hot,” Poppy says, her cheer uniform now covered in crusty pastry. Noticing me looking, she offers me some, and I shake my head after checking my blood sugar on my app.
“I’m good, thanks, Pops. My blood sugar’s been in range all day, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Why do I always forget you have diabetes?” She takes another bite of her croissant. “What was I saying again? Oh yeah, you’re hot!”
“Yeah, well, tell that to my empty DMs.”
“Flo, you hate men.”
I narrow my eyes at Mae. “I hate trashy men. There’s a difference.”
“Plenty of the Missarali Storks guys are single.” Mae grins over the brim of her mug, the scent of her cinnamon latte sweet and sickly, and I roll my eyes.
I’d told the girls about my fiasco with Evan West, and they didn’t seem surprised. According to them, it’s typical Evan, although they did try to convince me that he’s nice when you get to know him.
Sure, walking into the kitchen and seeing me standing in front of his flour-covered son was probably a shock, and he was being defensive for a reason. But I still hated the way he judged me and acted like it was my fault, as if I hadn’t done enough to diffuse the situation.
But maybe I’m just bitter because his son was the most adorable kid I’ve ever spent time with, and I’m sad I’ll never see him again.
“Nope, I’m put off for life, thank you.”
“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad?”
“I taught his son the word ‘Fuck’, and made his kitchen look as if a deranged baker had experienced some full-on meltdown within just an hour, so yeah, it was that bad.”
My friends erupt into laughter, and Mae sets her coffee mug down. “Okay, fine, I believe you, so what are you going to do job-wise?”
I shrug, the stress my creamy matcha latte had just ridden me of coming back full-force. “I don’t know. I’ll probably get something part-time while I figure out what I’m gonna do.”
“Good idea.”
“I was also sort of taking a look at that six-month trip around America and Canada that I put on hold all those years ago… for research purposes.”
Or maybe I was so close to impulsively booking it to feel like I had some of my shit together that I had to call my mum to distract me.
“But I eventually want to move closer to the city, so just don’t want to put too much pressure on myself, you know?”
Except that’s precisely what I’m going to do, because again, I like to remind myself how behind I am in life compared to everyone else.
How I’m going to regret not chasing my dreams when I finally look back at my life in my late forties and realise I’m stuck in some crappy desk job that gives me neck pain and a flat ass from sitting in a rolling chair ten hours a day.
I force myself to remain happy-go-lucky, and sure, for the most part, I am, but I can’t help but also feel like my life is unfulfilled.
Like I’m cruising along with no real purpose or goal I’m working towards.
And if I’m being honest, I’m jealous of the people who appear to have it all figured out.
I know who I am, what I like, and what I dislike, but when it comes to being sure of what I’m going to be doing for the rest of my life, I draw a blank, and it really fucking scares me.
There’s so much pressure these days to start in the career ladder young and work your way up so you’re some kind of billionaire CEO by the time you’re thirty, and it’s all I see on social media, so I can’t help but feel a little crushed when I think about how these are supposed to be the best years of my life, and I’m spending them worrying about my future.
“Wait, you’re actually thinking of going on that trip?” Mae chews on her lip.
My shoulders roll in a shrug. “Maybe. I think it would really benefit me, you know?”
Or just distract me.
“The reviews say it really helped people find themselves, and some other deep, meaningful crap. But I’d get a part-time job in the meantime. It doesn’t start until the end of September. I’m talking hypothetically, though.”
“Six months without seeing you…” Mae and Poppy both pout, and I chuckle.
“You girls could come and meet me somewhere. Fancy a Las Vegas trip?”
I’ve never seen Poppy smile so big. “Oh, absolutely,” she says, and Mae stands.
“I’d be so down. Come on, let’s head to the stadium early. I need to stretch.”
“Thanks for letting me come and watch you practice, guys. It’ll be a good distraction.”
“As long as you promise not to join in. Nobody wants to see your hot pink panties.”
I grin, remembering the high school accident I’d had last time I’d danced publicly—not that I’m any good—where my yoga pants ripped and everyone saw more than they’d bargained for.
Ever since then, I've forced myself not to feel embarrassed. I swear, it’s an emotion that’s lost on me.
I wink at my best friend. “No promises.”