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"I know, right? But he's my boss. Anyway, he texted me with an invitation to go out for supper for the best meatballs in the world and try to set some ground rules, but I turned him down."
"You're turning down meatballs? He wants to lay down ground rules? You mean, finish what you started, right?"
"Yes, but Steph, I can't. It would be what Jerkface did to me."
We both had been hurt by office romances but it seemed the two of us were just interested in being together, and the rest of it didn't matter all that much.
"You're turning down one of the richest hunks in all of the USA?"
"Yes," I said, pouting at the tone of her voice. "He's my boss."
"You've said that three times already and each time, I still don't understand. You met and you like each other. End of story."
"It's hilarious, because I thought he was a bicycle courier. He played along for a while, amused. I even offered to pay for his health care if he needed to see a doctor for stitches. God, I offered to call his boss and provide a letter that he'd hurt himself because of me."
We laughed for a moment and I thought of how truly funny it was.
Once I got under control, I sighed. "He seemed to like me thinking he was just a bicycle courier."
"He's probably used to having dozens of young women offering themselves to him because of his money."
"And his looks," I added.
"Yes. The being a total hunk part doesn't hurt but make the millions seem even more enticing. He was probably happy that you liked him for himself, rather than his money. You know, poor little rich boy nobody can really see because they have dollar signs in their eyes."
"I suppose so. Thing is, I would have kept seeing him if he was just a bicycle courier."
"You are such a stickler. And that's prejudiced, by the way."
"I even asked him if he knew any Mr. Big types he could introduce me to."
"Oh, my God, that's just too good. He was the actual Mr. Big."
"I know, I know...Why did he have to be my boss?"
"What's he like?"
"He was so nice. Offered to help me. Handed me money and a cell. Took me out for supper and drinks. Sent shivers down my spine before we were rudely interrupted."
"The shivers down your spine part. Spill, sister."
"He kisses good." I smiled, knowing that would drive Steph wild.
"He kisses good? That's all you're giving me? What about the licking the tattoo part?"
"I'll write a story about it. I feel weird telling you."
"Okay, you do that. Write a story. Except, finish it the way you wish it turned out. Maybe title it, 'He Was Just A Bicycle Courier But He Sure Spun My Tires.' Or 'Pulled my chain'. Or Blew My Horn.'"
"You're crazy..."
"You know it. Seriously, Ella. Go out for dinner with him. Have a nice meatball or three. Give him a chance. Jump his damn bones."
"I'll think about it."
"Don't think too long or there'll be someone else come along and be only too happy to take your place, sweetheart."
"Okay, okay. I'll think about it quickly. I gotta go, but thanks for listening."
