Page 4 of The Status Situation

“You have issues, you know that?” He retorts. “You’re too picky, and that’s your problem. It has nothing to do with your weight.”

I chuff in indignation. “We’re talking about dating here, possible future husbands. I have the right to be at least a little picky.”

“Fine,” he relents, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Just scroll for a while and see what options you come up with, but don’t make any decisions without me.”

With that, he strolls off to refill the coffee grinder, leaving me to stare resentfully at my friends’ list.

Two

Mark

“Okay. Well, then we will talk later when you have more information,” I say boredly into the phone as I twirl my pen in between my fingers. “Yep. Okay, ’bye.”

After placing the handset back into the receiver, I lean back in my chair and rest my head against the headrest. Today’s been rough, with back-to-back calls and meetings, not to mention the paperwork. Needless to say, I’m ready for it to be over.

This has never been my dream job, working at an insurance company, but I’ve managed to climb the corporate ladder over the years, and I’m pretty damn good at it, too. It pays ridiculously well, so I honestly have no reason to complain.

However, I want to be a full-time personal trainer, helping others achieve their fitness goals. I do have a couple of clients, but the gym is already swamped with personal trainers, so they can’t take me on full-time. Besides, this job pays too well to give up.

After rubbing at my tired eyes, I look over at the clock that hangs above the door: an hour left. The thought of having to stare at my computer screen, even for another minute, makes me want to throw it and everything else on my desk across the room. The only thing that keeps me from doing just that is the thought of heading to the gym when I leave here.

I spend so much of my free time at the gym that many people joke that I should just live there, and they aren’t entirely wrong. If I’m not here or at home sleeping, then that’s usually where I am because fitness is important to me: not only my own, but my clients’ as well. The atmosphere at the gym is also far better than the one here. It’s less restrictive.

Because I don’t really feel like working anymore, I look around the room.

The standard office desk sits in the middle of the room. I was told I could replace it with something better, but I haven’t cared enough to do so. Though it’s boring and not really my style, it serves its purpose, so why would I bother? Behind me, there’s a window that doesn’t even take up the whole wall, and a long black filing cabinet sits beneath it, each drawer filled with client files that are meticulously organized.

Two gray chairs sit opposite me on the other side of the desk, which I brought up here when I moved out of my old cubicle downstairs. There are no pictures on the wall, and no real personal touches that mark this space as mine. My boss keeps encouraging me to decorate, but I don’t see the point in that either. No amount of decoration is going to make me truly happy here.

The only personal belonging I do have is a rock paperweight that says, ‘Happy birthday. Every day, around the clock, always know that you are my rock,’ that sits on my desk. It’s a silly little trinket that my mother gave to me for my birthday last year, and I don’t have the heart to throw it out. Besides, as silly as it is, it does serve as a good reminder that there’s a life beyond this desk, even if it may not always seem like it.

This may be one of the bigger offices on this floor, but it still feels way too small for me sometimes, almost like a prison. I’m a big guy with broad shoulders and am well over six feet tall. So, I take up a lot of space everywhere I go. Because of this, I often find myself bumping into the chairs or the corner of the desk. It makes me feel a bit claustrophobic.

A knock sounds on my door, drawing my attention.

“Come in,” I grumble reluctantly, as I have already checked out for the day.

A moment later, the door opens, and Sean’s grinning face appears.

The two of us met at the gym a year ago. He had been at his lowest back then, and I felt bad for the guy. I know that everyone goes through rough patches, but I was able to turn things around for him, which is exactly what I did. I gave him a job.

Ever since then, he’s been glued to my hip like an imprinted puppy. Most days, I don’t mind, and it is even welcomed. We’ve gotten pretty close this past year, and he’s one of my best friends, but there are times I try to avoid him because his cheeriness can be a little much. Especially on days like today when my patience is already running thin.

“Working hard?” he asks, stepping a little further into the room.

I take in his short-cropped blond hair, narrow jaw, and somewhat weak chin. He’s built a lot like me, packed with muscle and tall; however, he’s not nearly as tall as I am. He’s also a bit more relaxed when it comes to what he wears at work. Like today, he’s wearing a burgundy button-down and jeans. But he gets the job done, and I’m the only one who really needs to look professional on my team.

I quirk an eyebrow at him in response. “Aren’t I always?”

While I may not be a fan of this job, I still have an excellent work ethic. Sean knows this because he actually works under me. I even have my own secretary, Wynita, who does all of the tedious work, like answering phone calls and picking up my lunch.

Without responding, he strides into the office and plops down into one of the chairs in front of my desk. He casually crosses one leg over the other and then leans back, resting his hands behind his head. He’s making himself comfortable.

“What do you need, Sean?” I ask pointedly, hoping to move this along a bit.

His smile grows knowingly. “I see you’re in a fun mood today.”

My lips press into a thin line as I continue to hold his gaze.