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Last night was something out of a fantasy, and I thought that I’d at least repeat it a few times before Emery ended up tired of me. It frustrates me knowing the perfect man is sitting a few offices down, and he’s basically told me he’s done.
I guess that means no more crazy sex. At least not from Emery Brooks.
Fuck him. I’ll find some other hot guy to have mind-blowing sex with. I shoot Tessa a quick text.
Madison Carter:Hey, want to go dancing tonight?
Tessa Reyes:Dancing on a Tuesday? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?
Not a surprising response. We haven’t gone dancing on a weeknight since like junior year. Right after we got the apartment.
Madison Carter:I need to get drunk and forget some things. It’s been a hell of a day, and it’s only ten in the morning.
Tessa Reyes:Are you sure? This is not normal.
Madison Carter:Neither is sleeping with my asshole boss. I’m turning over a new leaf.
Tessa Reyes:Oh, we are definitely drinking and dancing.
Good. Until then, I just have to muddle through the day. Luckily, my team is more than happy to do all the demographic research, and all I’ll have to do is look over it tomorrow. That’s still plenty of time to rework it if it’s terrible.
For the first time since I started at Aspire, I feel like I know what I’m doing professionally. It’s also the first time that I’m screwed up emotionally. This is why I don’t have boyfriends or even friends with benefits. Book boyfriends are simple and sweet. They don’t drop the girl after a one-night-stand.
In the end, you know they’ll end up with a heart of gold. Sadly, Emery Brooks wouldn’t make the cut for a romance hero. He’s just a normal boss who also happens to be the best fuck of my life.
Chapter 20
Madison
I look like the biggest slut ever, and I don’t care one bit. I came out tonight to remember that Emery doesn’t matter, and the best way to get over a guy is to get under another, right?
The silver skirt I’m wearing is probably a size too small, and it’s already a mini skirt. My flowing black top has to be worn bra-less because the cleavage dips almost down to my belly button.
The sound of the poppy club music reverberates through the walls as Tessa and I walk into inside. It’s surprisingly busy tonight. There’s a visiting DJ, and the dance floor has probably fifty sweaty bodies pressed against each other, grinding on each other like a PG-13 orgy.
Tessa leans over the bar, giving the bartender a very clear view down her top as she orders our drinks. The same drinks we’ve always ordered. She gets a Cosmo and I get a rum and Coke.
He makes them with a smile as she keeps leaning over the bar. Tessa was always a little wilder than me when we went out. The bartender doesn’t hide the fact he’s looking down her shirt, and he gives her a wink as he slides the drinks to us.
We turn around to look at the crowd as we take the first sips of our liquid courage. For a moment, I consider telling Tessa that we should just go. Everything about this place reminds me of why I became a reader. People are cruel. I knew this as a fact before I even went to school.
My earliest memories aren’t of the Christmas I got a dollhouse or of a vacation. No, they’re of beauty pageants. I was three years old and wearing a periwinkle blue dress in my very first memory. My hair had been curled to look like Shirley Temple, and I was wearing makeup.
And I was being judged by five adults on how pretty I was.
My world revolved around those pageants for years, and no matter what happened, I had to keep smiling. I was there to impress a bunch of strangers that I didn’t know. With my looks, my clothes, and my attitude. I had to laugh and pretend that I loved it because that’s what I was supposed to do. If I lost, I couldn’t be upset. If I won, I couldn’t be extra-happy.
Because even after the competition, I was still being judged even as a three-year-old.
I turned to reading. It’s when I found my home where no one judged me. The cruel people got their just desserts. The kind people had their happily ever afters.
That’s not real life, though. Looking out at the crowd of sweaty bodies, I remember why I’m here. I thought something had clicked last night. I thought I’d made a connection with a man that might just be perfect, and I was wrong.
If I walk away from here tonight, I won’t read. I won’t make ChitChat videos or even work. I’ll just think about Emery and how badly I want him to do dirty things to me. Then I’ll get even more pissed at him even though he did the exact thing I expected him to do.
No, I need to remind myself that Emery Brooks is not the only man in the world.
I turn to Tessa, who’s staring at the crowd just like me. She may be a little more comfortable in places like this, but she’s no social butterfly. “Ready?”
