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“So you, Larkin Fairchild, were more sensible than I was last night.” He dragged his coffee cup closer and hunched over it. “I feel cheap.”

“You were celebrating,” I said in his defence, perching my butt on the edge of his desk. “I wasn’t.”

I just got several amazing handjobs from your werewolf bodyguard instead of embarrassing myself onstage. Pretty sure my night was better than yours, broseph.

“Do you think he’ll actually do it?” Holt asked me nervously, and it took me a few seconds to work out what he meant.

“What, quit?” I cocked my head. “You know him better than I do, bro. Think he’s got the gums to do it?”

“The… gums?” Holt squinted at me, sinking lower in his seat.

“Yeah. You know, like nads or balls, but not gender-specific.”

Holt just sighed and rubbed his face. “I think you mean gumption, Lark.”

“Is that what gums is short for? I didn’t know that.”

“I—” His forehead connected with the desk before he shook his head weakly. “No.”

“Okay, well… whatever. Gumption, then. Think he has the gumption to do it?”

Holt lifted his head and nodded emphatically, then winced, then glared at me as if his hangover was my fault. “Yeah, he does. He’s brave.”

“He’s gotta be if he’s into your diva ass,” I teased, which earned me another glare.

“I am the last person in this place who could be called a diva.”

“No, Seb is,” I said automatically, then flushed, hurriedly scrubbing any memories of last night from my mind before Holt could start sensing my horny emotions. Shit, I better start, like, properly shielding them so he didn’t catch on. “Anyway, better get to work.”

Holt just took a shaky sip of his coffee and groaned like he was dying, so I slipped out of the room and flopped down into my desk chair. As I waited for my computer to boot up, I idly replied to texts from my buddies that had come through in the night, asking where I was and why I wasn’t playing with them.

I didn’t tell any of them what had actually happened—not even Hans, my best bro. I just said I’d had a late night at work and been really tired.

Of course, that made Hans reply with, Late night WORKING on wrestler D? [winky face]

I squirmed in my seat, gaze shooting to the closed door.

Okay, so here was the thing.

When I got the job as Holt’s assistant, I’d said a lot of… potentially arrogant stuff to my buddies about making my way through the wrestlers. Playing wrestler bingo, if you will. So after a while, they’d started asking which of them I’d tapped, and I’d kind of… gotten around the questions by laughing and winking and saying stuff like, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’ and ‘Which of them haven’t I tapped, bro?’

Looking back now, it felt kind of… gross. I felt kind of gross. All the wrestlers were awesome, nice people, and I’d just been seeing them as big half-naked bodies, ripped muscles and pretty faces. Shit. I’d sort of… totally objectified them, hadn’t I? I was part of the problem.

Now I just felt kind of crappy. The hot chocolate wasn’t even helping. I didn’t think any of the wrestlers actually wanted to, like, date me or anything. They’d made it clear they’d be down to fuck, but hadn’t given any indication that they were interested in more. So… it wasn’t like I’d be using them. Was it?

I looked at the door again. I kind of wanted to talk to Seb about it. Ask him if I’d been a total sleazeball. He probably thought I was one. I’d literally asked him for sex lessons so I could fuck my way through the wrestlers with confidence and experience.

I bet Seb was all… romantic and committed and stuff. I bet he wooed the people he wanted to date, buying them flowers and hot chocolates and holding their hand and edging them into mind-blowing orgasms. I bet he and whoever he ended up with would be like my parents—madly in love after years of marriage and dancing together like a couple of dorks in their living room on a Monday night.

I fidgeted restlessly in my chair. Sure, that sounded… nice, for some people, at least. But I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wanted to experience stuff first. All different kinds of stuff. That was the rule, right? Go wild in your twenties, then start thinking about settling down. It was literally illegal for me to not sow my wild oats while I was young and carefree and ridiculously horny all the time.

Although, my friend Pam had been with her boyfriend since we were all eighteen, and they were still super happy. Already starting a proper life together. They had an apartment and everything. That just sounded scary to me—being with the same person for my entire life.

I mean, I guessed it had its upsides. You probably stopped caring about, like… farting in front of them. Or saying something stupid. Or being nervous about stuff. And it was probably nice to always have someone to talk to—someone who actually wanted to hear everything you had to say. Someone who would make you feel better when you were feeling crappy or sad or overwhelmed.

I found myself looking back up at the door and wondering what Seb was doing. Well, I knew what he was doing—reading the paper, like he did every morning. Glancing with disinterest at my desktop, I realised that I, for once, could not be fucked to do any work.

Maybe I could quickly scan the news on my phone, then go out there and talk to Seb. Just to pass the time. I could say something really insightful and clever like, ‘Have you seen what’s happening in London? Jeez. Crazy.’