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“Dude,everyoneknows Mozart!”
I fling up my hands in defeat and neither of us stop laughing. Anna’s destroying me at this game too, unwilling to go even a little bit easier on me even when I asked her really nicely. But for maybe the first time ever, the outrage at losing is completely an act.
She’s as much a sore loser as I am, yelling affectionately at me if I win so much as one round.
By the end of the game there are cards scattered everywhere and we’re breathless from yelling and laughing and screaming.
I have to give it to her. This was way more fun than watching movies.
CHAPTER26
ANNA
For the last three mornings, I’ve woken up in Joel’s arms. He’s so warm that we’ve had to push all the blankets off the bed. They’re still heaped in a pile on the floor, but I don’t care. A bit of mess won’t hurt this apartment. Besides, we’d have been so hot if we’d kept them because our two bodies pressed together act like a boiler, keeping each other warm even in the dead of winter.
We’re at the point now where we do actually sleep, if only in the sense that the sex lasts for a few hours and ends before dawn breaks. Joel issogood in bed. Like, exactly what a girl wants from a lover. He’s attentive. He’s gentle. He doesn’t hesitate when I ask him to fuck me harder and stops the second I tell him to ease off.
I think I might be in love with him.
At least, my vagina is. And unfortunately, all the rest of me seems to agree.
Time to stop thinking horny thoughts. I’m sitting on my bed, trying to do what I’m loosely calling work. It’s been a few days since I checked my emails or did anything productive at all, so I’m having a work morning. So far, that’s involving staring at my laptop and scrolling through videos on my phone.
What my laptop is saying is too scary to look at anyway. It’s using words likeoverdrawnanderrorand it’s making me queasy. Fortunately, I’m not actively in any debt which I guess is good. Despite the whole losing-the-apartment thing, because it was all under Mariana’s name, none of the tens of thousands of dollars of missed payments are my responsibility.
My personal banking is happy, at least.
My business banking is a disaster.
With no clients to test it and no Mariana to make any updates, the software is just sitting there eating up server space. Fortunately we don’t pay a huge premium for the domain, but it’s going to add up if I can’t get this thing moving. And paying a new software developer is going to be a hit. I don’t have a clue where I’d even start with any of it.
What a mess. I expected setbacks, but this…
All I can do is try again. I guess the place to start is with someone who knows software. I have a scattering of followers on my socials from my desperate attempts to network, so maybe that’s a good way to dip my toes back in. I pull up my profile and start drafting an ad.
Looking for a new software developer! Due to recent changes in staff, I’m seeking an experienced developer to —
Wanted! Software developers! Are you a pro, or do you know any experienced developers? I’m on the hunt for the new head of development here —
Hiring: software developer. DM your CV or reach out to me for more information about the exciting new opportunity to become part of the staff and help behind the scenes to create the best —
Ugh. How to word this so it doesn’t sound totally shit?
I’m about to start bashing my head on the wall in frustration when Joel knocks on my door, startling me.
“Knock, knock,” he says as he comes in.
I barely look up “You know it’s pointless to say that when you’ve A, already knocked, and B, just come right in anyway.”
“Does it matter if I’m bringing presents?”
I turn to look at him properly. He’s wearing an oversized T-shirt with the logo of a band that was popular way before he was born, and in his hand is a plate stacked with an assortment of cookies and cakes. This guy really knows how to snack, and though he claims to never workout, with the amount he eats and the way he looks, I can’t believe it.
“I am trying to work, actually.”
He sidles over to me and gives me his puppy dog eyes. Relenting, I pat the bed next to me. He sits, holding out his plate to me in offering. To make him feel better, I take a chocolate chip cookie.
“I know,” he says, taking a cookie for himself. “I just thought you could do with a break. I could hear your groans of agony from the kitchen.”
