Page 38 of Whispered Promises

GymAlpha

Fuck.

GymAlpha

For me?

Me

Yes, for you.

All other words escape me. This is so far out of my comfort zone that I can’t seem to formulate a longer response.

My pulse is racing, pounding in my ears as my eyes fall closed, and I imagine him standing here, behind me, crowding me. The heat from him searing into my skin as he trails his mouth up my neck before grunting “Fuck” into my ear, the word so low and emphasised that it has the hair on my arms standing up.

GymAlpha

On my way to a job. All I can think about is you.

GymAlpha

Get to work and message me later, little tease.

Disappointment filters through that we can’t continue the conversation, but he’s right. We both need to work, even if I really don’t want to right now.

Finishing up my routine, I head into my room and quickly get dressed, then have a short play with Moshi before restocking his provisions. Saying my goodbyes to him, I stop in the kitchen, scribble a quick note on the communal whiteboard to ask Steph to check in on him during the day, then rush out the front door.

Another workday. Yay me.

After slotting into a parking space, I check the time and see I only have five minutes left until I start. I can’t even muster feeling bad about getting distracted with Nate.

It felt exhilarating.

Stopping at the cafe a few doors up from the office, I head up to the thankfully empty counter.

“One almond croissant, please,” I request, salivating over the smells and wishing I could eat everything. A small snigger sweeps through me; I sound like Max. Opening up his message from last night, I reread it with a giddy feeling.

SunshineMax

From one best friend to another, good night, sweet cheeks.

Snapping a quick photo, I type out a message and send it to him.

Me

From one best friend to another, this all smells amazing. *inserts photo*

“You look brighter this morning,” Tilly comments.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and take the offered bagged croissant from her as I tap my card on the reader. As I nibble my lip lightly, I smile. “It’s been a good morning, but I have to get going as I’m a little late,” I say over my shoulder as I rush out.

Before I can make it through the door, she yells, “I hope the fucknugget is a little less fucknuggety for you today!”

Laughing, I offer a quick wave as I leave and speed-walk to the office.

“You’re late, Rosemary,” his terse voice calls. My boss, Peter, or Pete, as he tries to get everyone to call him, aka the Fucknugget. “You should be starting work at 9 a.m., not arriving at 9 a.m. I don’t appreciate tardiness from employees. You should know this by now.”

There’s something about the way he scolds me that always has my knees locking tight, throwing me back to the feeling of being in trouble in school.