Page 52 of Only Fangs

“Exactly.”

“And not just work either,” he says and the grin turns wicked. He moves to sit down on the sofa.

“Ha ha.” Why is everyone so obsessed with the idea of me and Brody?

“Clara told me everything.” He flaps his hand as if to say that I don’t need to give him any more information. “He’s not my cup of tea but I can understand the attraction. And it has been… what? Like literal decades since you had a boyfriend?”

“I don’t date. I don’t want a boyfriend. And I definitely don’t want one who’s my employee. My human employee.”

“Oh the lady really doth protest too much,” he says and raises his gin glass to his lips, staring at me over the rim.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him.

“Like what?” The epitome of innocence.

“Like you think you know me better than I know myself.”

“I know you wanted to fuck his little human brains out in Wales and you regret not following through with it and you’re still wondering what he would feel like and⁠—”

“Alright. Stop. I…”

He winks at me and his stupid face breaks into a dirty grin. “See. Told you so.”

The next morning, Brody arrives just before nine, carrying takeaway coffees from Sangers. “I came with breakfast and caffeine,” he says with a smile. I try not to think of the conversation with Ivan last night, or the way the gin loosened my tongue just enough to admit that perhaps I do think Brody is attractive and I might regret pulling back in Wales. Just a teeny bit. I didn’t mention the inappropriate dreams or the way I imagined it was him touching me as I slipped my hand between my legs in the shower. Brody isn’t interested in me and besides, I don’t want a boyfriend anyway.

“You’re a life saver,” I tell Brody. “We have a tonne to get done today.”

“Well, we’d better get on with it then.” He flashes me a smile.

“Yes sir.” I kind of like it when he gives me orders.

“So, can we use PowerPoint?” Brody asks after we finish the pastries he bought.

“PowerPoint? What, like you want to put up a pretty little slide deck?” I try to keep the ridicule out of my voice but judging by the hurt look in his eyes I fail miserably.

“I just thought we could show the logo and the UX sketches and some of the projections about signups and profitability and stuff.” He sounds so defensive and it’s utterly adorable.

“I don’t know how to use PowerPoint,” I tell him. “They hadn’t even invented the vertical lantern when I went through school.”

“The what?”

“The vertical lantern. Like an early version of the overhead projector.”

“The what?”

“Jesus Christ. You really are a baby.” I shake my head in mock admonishment.

He grins. “OK, no PowerPoint. But maybe we make up a few boards of the key information? Like they do on that TV show.”

I give him a blank look.

“That show where they pitch their ideas to get funding?”

Does he really think that would be a fun evening for me? Watching sweating humans trying to answer questions about their companies. Sometimes normies can be so weird.

And sometimes normies can be so right. Who has been hiding this show from me? Watching nerve-wracked humans try to answer questions about their business ideas, the ones they have poured their hearts and souls into for years, is one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever seen. It’s also surprisingly educational.

I watch the first episode in silence, but before the second starts to autoplay, I jump up and grab a notebook.