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CHAPTER 7
SAM
I snap out of a steamy fantasy in which my boss is the star. It's been another day, trying to act normal at work while I itched to have even the slightest body contact. Why do I react to Chris this way? It's like I'm always looking for excuses to touch him. And every time we do make contact, it's like I can't get enough. I know it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.
What are we going to do when that happens?
I flop on my bed, thinking about my Chris dilemma and fast-reading through my class group chat. Apparently, someone is getting married and they're debating turning up for her.
I close the chat and video call Mom. There's only so much interest I have in school and former classmate-related stuff right now.
Mom picks up on the first ring.
“Pumpkin!” Her sweet voice rings through my headphones. “Good timing. I was just thinking of you.”
"Really," I say, smiling. "What were you thinking?" Her surroundings are not what I'm used to with her, and I sit up on my bed. "Wait, where are you, Mom?" It looks like she is in a salon.
“A spa.”
“Spa?” I parrot.
"Yes. Yes. That's why I was thinking of you. I'm here to get a facial. I have a fundraising dinner to attend this evening and I need to look my best. The entire faculty is going to be there. I have the option of choosing between a lymphatic massage facial and a microcurrent one. What do you think I should go with?
“Ugh, I’m not a skin specialist, Mom.” I groan. “What did the Beautician say?”
“She said I should go for the Microcurrent facial. But it takes more time.”
“They’re the experts, Mom. I’m sure they know what’s best for you, so maybe you should go with that.”
“Okay. So, how are you? I’m sure you didn’t call because you miss me. We just spoke yesterday.”
“What if I miss you?”
“Pfft. I know you.”
“Whatever, Mom.” I roll my eyes at her. “I just wanted to talk to someone.”
Mom’s voice turns serious and caring. “Honey, what’s wrong? Is anyone giving you trouble at work?”
"No, no," I say quickly. "No trouble. At least, not the kind you're thinking."
“Ooh…” Mom wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Man troubles then?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I laugh. “But it’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?” Mom asks, serious again.
“I’m thinking of changing jobs, Mom. I’m too qualified to be a secretary or personal assistant or whatever fancy name they may want to put on it.”
“Have you spoken to your dad about it?”
"Not recently and I don't want to go behind dad and apply to P&J."
“Maybe you should speak with him again,” she says. “You should talk it out with him.”
“Huh,” I sigh. “Maybe I will.”
I hear someone talking to her in the background. The camera loses focus as she stands up from wherever she is sitting.
