By the time Stella had hung up her coat and put her shoes on their overflowing shoe rack, the anger she’d felt had melted into exhaustion and she didn’t have any fight left in her.
“What is that?” Stella asked, nodding at the smoothie.
Chelsea’s smile looked relieved as she held out her mug to Stella. She obviously didn’t want to fight either.
“Try it.”
Stella took the mug hesitantly, bringing the straw to her mouth. Chelsea was always experimenting with different smoothies and juices that were supposed to be good for her skin, her hair, her nails, to trim excess weight, or all of the above. Chelsea loved her body, curves and all, which was why she said she was determined to take care of it and make sure it always looked pristine.
Seeing as her body was often displayed online as part of her job, Stella understood where she was coming from.
“Hm,” Stella said, swallowing a sip. “Not bad.”
She handed the mug back to Chelsea, who took it with a grin.
“Want me to make you one?”
“Absolutely not,” Stella said. “I need a shower and then I’m climbing into bed.”
“Bed?” Chelsea asked. “It’s barely even eight o’clock.”
“Yes, but it’s been a long weekend, and I’m exhausted.”
Chelsea wiggled her eyebrows. “A long weekend of fucking?”
Stella rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched as a smile attempted to form on her face. Chelsea ran around the openwall that separated their kitchen and living room and pounced on Stella.
“Okay, tell me everything,” Chelsea said. “You still haven’t given me any details about this guy. Was he big, medium, or”—Chelsea closed her eyes and let out a small measured breath—“small?”
Stella let out a laugh. “I mean, I don’t have much to compare him to, but I’d say he’s pretty big.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened. She took Stella by the hand and pulled her over to their couch.
“Alright, start from the beginning and leave nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—out,” Chelsea said. “I need to know positions, sound effects, locations, number of orgasms from both you and him—”
“Chelsea, oh my God,” Stella said, laughing. “You’re insane!”
“I’m not insane; I’m thorough,” Chelsea said. “Now start talking, or you’ll never get to bed.”
“Fine, do you want the sex club part, too, or—”
“Bitch, what part ofeverythingwas not clear?”
Stella laughed again, then started talking. As she recounted the story, with Chelsea jumping in to ask follow-up questions every now and then, Stella could feel them falling back into their rhythm, all animosity forgotten.
At least, for now.
Twenty-Seven
Stella had almost forgotten about Sprint Week, but when she walked into the Yellow Sparks office on Monday morning, tension was thick in the air.
Everyone was speaking in hushed whispers, and even though Stella arrived ten minutes early, there were people already working. Stella wasn’t sure if they were trying to learn how to use Sparky now that they were being forced to do so, or if they just wanted to get a head start on their twenty posts so they could be done with their week by the end of the day.
Stella saw Max’s friend/coworker (employee?) Rashid walking around the content team, seemingly answering people’s questions. He genuinely looked happy to be there, probably glad that he could finally talk about his expertise instead of sitting around for his office hours, waiting for anyone to show up with a question. Stella wondered if he knew about her and Max and, if he did, what he thought about it.
Thankfully, she had enough common sense to know shecouldn’t ask, so she avoided eye contact with him and continued on to her desk, where Effie and Katy were already working.
“Good morning,” Stella said in a singsong voice that she knew Effie couldn’t stand.
