Chapter 16
Bonnie
I manage to get lunch at a decent time today, at the same time most people on the tech floors are having theirs.
Looking around the room, I realize how much I’ve missed their banter and conversation. A few of the guys are by the gaming section of the staff room, but the screen is large enough for everyone to enjoy the combat game.
After I left Ethan’s office yesterday, I tried to go back to work, but I was too angry, humiliated, and confused by what happened. By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was more than ready to leave, making it the earliest I've left work since starting this job.
Why is it that the one man I suddenly want after all these years is the one I can’t seem to have? Unless, as he says, he sees the “real me?”
What the hell does that even mean? I chew thoughtfully on my mixed-leaf salad, absently watching the game on the screen.
“Bonnie, it’s been ages!”
Owen comes to sit next to me, having just lost his round of combat, and passed over the controls to someone else.
“You’ve gotten better since last time, Owen,” I say, referring to the week of orientation when he and I went everywhere together and took our lunches here.
“That was ages ago, Bonnie. Now, I actually last a good ten minutes in the ring.”
“Is Logan still the champion?” I ask, referring to the fresh-faced intern who started around the same time that we did.
“Undefeated. We might need to organize a tournament with the best in other companies. Anyway, Bonnie, it's nice to have you back!”
I know by that he means back mingling with the rest of the tech floor instead of being holed up in my office, in meetings, or having training sessions with interns.
“I don’t know that I’m ‘back’ for good, though. It’s never-ending work.”
“Yeah, I know, but you gotta pace yourself, Bonnie.”
“You know something crazy? I really do enjoy it. I don’t want to pace myself, Owen,” I whine playfully.
I’m usually one of the first to get in—that is, on the days I’m not messed up with nightmares. I’m also often the last to leave my floor, and then, I can’t wait to get back the next morning. I thought Brooke was crazy when she declared how much she liked her job and her boss. Who knew that would be me?
Only, I’m pretty sure I like my own boss more than she does hers.
“It’s obvious you enjoy it. You never leave!”
I still see interest in his eyes when he looks at me these days, but I think it's more of admiration than wanting to sleep with me, although I might be wrong. I thought I could read men expertly, but it turns out I’m the one being read like a book.
“If only he knew you were the Hera to his Zeus, Bonnie, I’m sure he wouldn't antagonize you so much. He’d collaborate with you instead. You’d make a great team. Although, I’m sure I could get fired for even suggesting that!” Owen says.
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re literally the female version of Ethan Hawthorne. Workaholic, crazy intelligent, hot—well, I’ll take the ladies’ word for Zeus, but I can speak for the men with respect to you,—and we hardly ever see you, but we feel your impact. All the time. Just like we do Zeus's”
“Huh? Rewind to the ‘antagonize’ part.”
“I mean, he resists you at every step, yet you shine through.”
“What?” I still don't get what he's talking about.
“Come on, Bonnie. Everyone knows he’s an asshole to you. I’ll never know what you did for him to not like you. Take the Dreadlite fiasco, for example. He hates that you got it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t know? Zeus threw a fit when they suggested you handle it. Of course, I get his reasoning, as launches are only ever handled by partners. We were all surprised when we heard Dreadlite was going to a much junior staff this year. But we immediately guessed you'd be the one.”
“What are you talking about, Owen? Ethan’s been nothing but supportive on this project. How do you even know all this?”
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but Sajid told me a couple of weeks ago. I’d gone to see him for something and was waiting around his office when he stormed in, majorly pissed by something. Apparently, Jordan had to clear the room to put the screws to Ethan for God knows how long before he'd finally agreed.”
Wow. Really?
“Why?”
He shrugs. “He said he didn’t think you could do it, but here you are now, proving him wrong and killing it.”
“Sure, of course. Thanks, Owen,” I say.
I’d lost my appetite at some point during the conversation, and my chest is starting to hurt badly, but I manage a smile.
I’m sorely regretting my decision to mingle with everyone. I would have been happier not knowing.
Ethan doesn't like me, and everybody knows it. Yet, I’m the fool who can’t tell the difference between a boss who’s just being nice and a man who’s interested in her.
Ethan would probably have kicked me out long ago if not for Jordan. The fact I’m friends with Jordan’s wife is probably the only reason I’m still here. I fight the tears that spring to my eyes with everything in me.
Jordan had been lying about him all along. Or at least, he’s been sugarcoating things to spare my feelings.
To think that I was so giddy and excited to see Ethan yesterday, thinking he wanted to talk about us. And I threw myself at him again. Suddenly, it's Thistledown Secondary all over again, and I’m the village idiot with a crush on the popular boy.
Granted, I didn’t really want him to fuck me, or did I? I just wanted to see the look of ecstasy on Ethan’s face. I wanted it so bad.
You want attention. You want praise. You want to make me lose control.
I hate the way he sees these things about me when we’ve not even had real conversations before.
And if he dislikes me that much, what the fuck was that whole spiel about wanting me?
A load of crap, that’s what.
I force down my lunch, although it tastes like dust. The last thing I want is to give any reaction that would become office gossip.
I look around the room. Interns, staff trainees, and associates. I didn't think they were that hungry for drama. I thought everyone was as busy as me, hardly having time for anything else.
On my way back to my office, I consider making a detour to Ethan’s to confront him, but I decide against that. Fighting him over the issue is giving him an opportunity to backtrack or explain it.
Like Nan always says, when people show you who they are, believe them. It’s better to accept cold, bitter reality.
I’ve got a pounding headache, but heck if I’m going to let that stop me from doing my work. I’m not leaving early today. I power through the rest of the day, only shutting down after dark. I grab my jacket and helmet and head to the bank of elevators.
When one arrives, it's with the one person I absolutely do not want to see. Ethan leans against the side wall, with his head bowed and thick locks of hair falling over his brow. He's holding his glasses in one hand.
Speak of the fucking devil.
He raises his head, and his eyes meet mine. The last thing I want is to get into the elevator with him, so I wait for the doors to shut.
When the doors begin closing, he takes a step forward and presses the button to hold them open. “Come on, Bonnie. I won’t bite.”
“No, I’ll wait for the next one, thanks.”
He observes me for a moment, then steps out of the elevator to stand beside me.
Oh, for fuck’s sake . Rolling my eyes, I enter, and he follows me back inside.
Once the door shuts, in the confined space, I’m sure he can feel my anger rolling off me in waves.
“Something’s wrong,” he says.
“You think?" I snap, then under my breath, "Jackass."
“I’m sorry, Bonnie.”
I’m floored. That’s something I never expected to come out of his mouth.
I face him. “And what on earth could you possibly be sorry for Ethan?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
My anger boils over.
“So, don't fuckin' say yer sorry then. Pretendin' to be one way, then backstabbin' me. If you want to be an asshole, be an asshole. Fuckin' kick me out of yer company even. Don’t be sendin' nice emails like ye care and whisperin' in my ear and fuckin' getting hard-ons and rubbin' them on me, okay?” I take a deep breath and release it slowly.
“What are you talking about?” He's looking at me like I have grown an extra head and he probably didn't hear a word of my rant too, considering it came out heavily accented.
Damn, five years and I've never let myself go like that, not even when arguing with Twiggy. But then again Twiggy doesn't drive me mad—actually, no one makes me as crazy as Ethan does.
I make myself talk 'normally' “Dreadlite. I heard you fought against me getting it. That you’re still not happy I got it. Apparently, it’s common knowledge on the tech floor. Tell me that it's just a rumor some salty associate or partner cooked up?”
He goes silent, watching me for the longest moment. “I'm sorry. It’s not,” he finally admits.
“Jesus!” I slam my palm on the call button repeatedly, needing to get away from the source of my pain. It’s useless, because it doesn’t make the elevator go faster, but I can’t help needing to do something to leave this confined space.
“Bonnie—”
“Do not fucking speak to me ever again!” He takes a step towards me. “And don't even presume to crowd my personal space. After Dreadlite, I’m done with Acercraft. From now on, if you need to communicate with me, you can go through Jordan, my line manager, and once you decide you’ve had enough of my insolence, you can fucking fire me.”
My eyes are misty with unshed tears, but my voice is unwavering. I’m grateful when the elevator doors open, and I leave without a backward glance. He doesn’t follow me.