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Harrison
“Youhavealotof post it notes.”
“I love post it notes. I leave them everywhere.” She beams, puffing her chest out a little.
Smiling, I try to focus on the updates I’m doing for her office software and not on how she smells like me and sex or how she looked painted in my cum ten minutes ago. “I know. I found one with turtles on it attached to my suit jacket the other day.”
“Oops.” She lifts one side of her mouth but shrugs. “At least you were thinking of me at work.”
I stop what I’m doing and turn to face her. “I am thinking about you. All the time lately.”
Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth and several emotions flicker across her face. I know her well enough by now to know they are fear, anticipation and happiness. And that last one in particular sticks as she leans in and pecks my mouth. “I’ll get you your own little stack of post it’s. In fact.” She spins, opens a drawer and gives me a pack with Labradors on them. “Here, these are yours.”
I take them, unable to keep the stupidly goofy grin from my face. “They’re perfect.”You’re perfect.
I break away from the computer and kiss and her eyes close as she hums a satisfied noise from the back of her throat.
Then suddenly, the whole place goes dark.
Zoey’s eyes spring open. “I know I had my eyes closed, but did the lights just go off?”
“They did. Do you have a back up generator?”
She groans, and it’s not the good kind. “Out back, it should kick in, but it’s really old and I’m not sure if it’s been used since I’ve been here.” Luckily, it’s not that dark because it’s the middle of the afternoon. “I’m going to check the fuse box.”
“I’ll come too.”
Zoey leads me to the back storage rooms, and when I spot the giant old fashioned style fuse box with a horrible smoky smell coming from it, I know it’s not going to be good.
“Is that smell coming from the box?” I ask, covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve.
Zoey coughs. “Fuck.”
“How old is this place?” I ask as Zoey goes to touch the box, but I stop her by grabbing her wrist and hold it against my chest. “Zoey, leave it. What if you get hurt?”
She sighs low and long. “You’re right. That would really end my year with a bang. Literally.” Emotion clogs her voice, as I take her hand, leading her out of the smoky room.
“I know a guy who can help. Let me make a call.”
She stares at the floor, nodding to herself. “Okay, maybe I can afford a call out and hopefully, he can fix it within my budget.”
I ignore Zoey’s comment because I think she was mostly talking to herself anyway. Annoyance bubbles in my chest at the fact her father still hasn’t given her the trust fund. If she were pissing away the money I could understand, but this… Not cool. She’s such a good person, and he’s too far up his own entitlement to see that.
I’m already texting my friend from school. We don’t talk often, but he’s always the guy my family uses for electrical issues.
“Grant will be here in an hour.”
An hour and a half later, Zoey has chewed through all her nails while pacing back and forth.
Grant, the electrician I called, manages to stop the smell from the box, but I have no idea how. When he comes back to the office, he’s shaking his head. “I’ve had to keep the electrics off for now. And I hate to tell you this…” He tries to offer a reassuring smile, but it’s not reassuring enough. “Your fuse box is out of date, which means your wiring is out of date. I had a quick sneak behind the wall in the storage room, and you also have asbestos.”
A rush of air leaves Zoey’s mouth as she plummets into her office chair wearing a vacant expression. I hate seeing her like this. “What… h-how.” She clears her throat and swallows thickly. “That sounds really expensive…”
“Wiring could be anything from three to five grand. Asbestos, I’d hazard a guess that it could cost anywhere between five to ten grand.”
Zoey’s expression doesn’t change. She stares at Grant but doesn’t really look at him. “And that would take a long time?”
Grant nods. “It might not be in the whole building, but considering the age of it, it might be everywhere. I know a guy if you want his details.”
