âYou didnât,â he retorts, fighting back.
âInstead of the two of us going back and forth over who made mistakes and who didnât, letâs decide what weâre going to do with our day after the oil change.â
âYouâll get an iPhone,â he says.
âHow many times do I have to tell you that I donât want an iPhone . . . ?â I grumble. My phone is slow, yes, but iPhones are expensive and complicatedâtwo things I canât afford to add to my life right now.
âEveryone wants an iPhone. Youâre just one of those people who donât want to give in to the trend.â He looks over at me, and I see his dimples pucker evilly. âThatâs why you were still wearing floor-length skirts in college.â Finding himself absolutely hilarious, he fills the car with his laughter.
I playfully scowl at his overused dig. âI canât afford one right now anyway. I have to save my money for an apartment and groceries. You know, the necessities.â I roll my eyes, but smile back at him to soften the blow.
âImagine the things we could do if you had an iPhone, too. Thereâd be even more ways for us to communicate, and you know Iâd get it for you, so donât mention the money again.â
âWhat I can imagine is doing things like tracking my phone so you could see where I go,â I tease, ignoring his overpowering need to buy me things.
âNo, like we could video-chat.â
âWhy would we do that?â
He looks at me as if Iâve grown another set of eyes and shakes his head. âBecause, imagine being able to see me each day on your shiny new iPhone screen.â
Images of phone sex and video chats immediately spring into mind, and I shamelessly run through shots of Hardin touching himself on the screen. What is wrong with me?
My cheeks heat, and I canât help but glance at his lap.
With one finger under my chin, Hardin tilts my face up to look at him. âYouâre thinking about it . . . going over all the dirty shit I could do to you via iPhone.â
âNo, Iâm not.â Holding tight to my stubborn refusal to get a new cell phone, I change the subject. âMy new office is nice . . . the view is incredible.â
âIs it?â Hardinâs tone immediately turns somber.
âYes, and the view from the lunchroom is even better. Trevorâs office hasââ I stop myself from finishing the sentence, but itâs too late. Hardin is already glaring at me, expecting me to finish.
âNo, no. Continue.â
âTrevorâs office has the best view,â I tell him, my voice coming out much more clear and steady than Iâm feeling on the inside.
âJust how often are you in his office, Tessa?â Hardinâs eyes flicker to me and then back to the road.
âIâve been there twice this week. We have lunch together.â
âYou what?â Hardin snaps. I knew I should have waited until after dinner to bring up Trevor. Or not brought him up at all. I shouldnât even have mentioned his name.
âI have lunch with him, usually,â I admit. Unfortunately for me, at that moment my car is stopped at a red light, leaving me no choice but to be at the receiving end of Hardinâs glare.
âEvery day?â
âYes . . .â
âIs there a reason behind it?â
âHeâs the only person I know that has the same lunch hour as me. Kimberlyâs so busy helping Christian that she hasnât even been taking a lunch hour.â Both of my hands move in front of my face to aid in my explanation.
âSo have your lunch hour changed.â The light turns green, but Hardin doesnât step on the gas pedal until an angry horn sounds from behind us in the line of traffic.
âIâm not having my lunch hour changed. Trevor is my coworker, end of story.â
âWell,â Hardin breathes, âI would prefer you not to eat lunch with fucking Trevor. I canât stand him.â
Laughing, I reach down onto my lap and place my hand on top of Hardinâs. âYouâre being irrationally jealous, and it happens that thereâs no one else for me to have lunch with, especially when the other two women that share the same lunch hour have been mean to me all week.â
He glances sideways at me while switching lanes smoothly. âWhat do you mean, theyâve been mean to you?â
âThey havenât been mean exactly. I donât know, maybe Iâm just paranoid.â
âWhat happened? Tell me,â he urges.
âItâs nothing serious, I just get the feeling that they donât like me for some reason. I always catch the two of them laughing or whispering while staring at me. Trevor said they like to gossip, and I swear I heard them say something about how I got the job.â
âThey said what?â Hardin sneers. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel.
âThey made a comment, something like âwe know how she got the job anyway.â?â
âDid you say something to them? Or to Christian?â
âNo, I donât want to cause any problems. Iâve only been there a week, and I donât want to run and tattle on them like a schoolgirl.â
âFuck that. You need to tell those women to fuck off, or Iâll tell Christian myself. What are their names? I may know them.â
âItâs not that big of a deal,â I say, trying to deactivate the bomb Iâve clearly assembled myself. âEvery office has a set of catty women. The ones in mine just happen to have targeted me. I donât want this to be a thing; I just want to blend in there and maybe even make some friends.â