Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire: Chapter 7

Sarah

Dear Diary,

I touched his lips. And told him I liked to dance on a pole in a thong. Why, oh, why did I say that? A thong? I haven’t owned a thong in years. They are so uncomfortable. How can I go in to work tomorrow? Maybe he won’t remember? Maybe he was drunk, as well. I have no idea if that’s true or not because I could barely see him for more than half of our conversation, and then for the other half, I was just embarrassed.

The ‘he’ I’m talking about is my boss, Ethan Rosser. Why, oh, why is his name popping up in my diary so much now?

I mean, you would have been embarrassed, as well. I don’t know what possessed me to pretend I was a stripper on the side. I literally have never stripped in my life. Not even with a boyfriend. I’m not going in to work tomorrow. Well, maybe I am, but only because I need the paycheck.

Why couldn’t I have been born to rich parents? My family has really let me down.

Stupid Sassy Sarah

The previous evening feels like a really bad dream. A part of me wishes that it was one. Yes, nightmares suck, but then you get to wake up and join the real world again and banish all the bad memories—no such luck when your nightmare is real life.

Yes, I’ve been waiting for Ethan Rosser to notice me, but that is not how I wanted it to happen. Frankly, I was slightly miffed that he’d been so shocked that I worked for him. He really hadn’t recognized me. I know I look different with my hair down and my glasses off, but I don’t think I look that different. Though, I can’t worry about that too much now. My stomach tenses as I get closer to work.

I make my way to the office timidly, much different than how I’d been acting the night before, fueled by liquid courage. I hope I don’t see him. I don’t want to see him. I also don’t want to hide behind my glasses anymore. I’m ready to get rid of them, though I’m not quite ready to take the leap to LASIK surgery. I’ll take it one step at a time and start with contact lenses.

I decide to find an optometrist who can see me this week so that I can get my eyes tested and fitted for contact lenses. It’s not that I’m vain. I actually like my glasses. But it would be nice to go out without them on and be able to see. My phone rings when I’m a few blocks from the office, and I see Isabel’s name on the screen. I answer it immediately, and all I can hear is laughter on the other side of the phone. I know why she’s laughing. But I’m not going to let her off that easily. She could’ve got me fired. She could’ve gotten me put out on the streets. I know that’s a little bit of hyperbole, but I didn’t care.

‘Hello, Isabel,’ I say dryly. ‘You can stop laughing now.’

‘Sure thing, slutty stripper.’

‘Ugh, do not remind me of that stupid name. Whose bright idea was it to call me slutty stripper? As if anyone would actually go by that name.’ I almost forgot the moniker bequeathed to me the night before. I know lots of women like to make up fake names for themselves when they go out at night, but normally, it is a complimentary name or something sultry. Slutty stripper is trashy and not something I ever wanted to be known as. In fact, I don’t even remember how it came up that I was a stripper, as I am the furthest thing from one that a woman could be. Not that I am a nun or a saint or anything. But if I had to come up with a fake profession, why couldn’t I have gone with something glamorous, like museum curator or dolphin whisperer.

‘Not sure.’ There’s a guilty expression in her tone, and I immediately wonder if she coined the term. Memories come crashing back to me, and I recall that she was the one who had called me that. ‘But guess what! Ella is back tonight. Colton has some big project, so they will be back this evening. Exciting, right?’ she exclaims quickly, and I know she knows I’m about to go off on her.

I decide to let my anger go. There’s no point in being upset about something that has already happened; plus, I am excited to see Ella. I want to hear all about her trip, and I know that she’ll have brought back gifts for Isabel and me. Ella is one of the most thoughtful and kind people I know. But I’m a little bit embarrassed to tell her about my interaction with Ethan last night. I still feel like a bit of a fool. Though, I know I need to stop calling myself that. I once read a book that said you should only refer to yourself with positive attributes, but somehow, I feel like this morning, I will be unable to do that. Though, I suppose I could congratulate myself on having the courage to dance on a table in the first place. It was certainly an adrenaline rush.

‘She’s going to think I’m crazy when we tell her what happened last night,’ I say, my mind still trying to process the events of the previous evening. I’m feeling hot and shameful again. Partly because Ethan Rosser is frustratingly annoying and sexy at the same time. I’m ready to sink into the earth in shame at the way I acted before I left the bar. ‘But of course, I’m happy to see her and ask her about her trip. Not like when we meet up it will be all about me.’

‘She suggested we all go to brunch this weekend with Colton and Sam.’ Isabel tries not to sound excited, but I know the thought of seeing Sam most probably has her panties in a twist. She lurves him, and no one can convince me otherwise, at this point. Maybe someone seeing the way I interacted with Ethan and Jackson would make them think I was in love with one of them, as well. Which is an absolutely ridiculous thought. ‘She said if she’s not jetlagged, maybe we can all go out tomorrow night for a catch-up.’

‘Sounds good.’ I stop outside of the grand Rosser International building and take a deep breath. ‘Okay, I’ve just arrived at work. I’m going to head inside now and try not to throw up.’

‘Tequila got you feeling bad about your life?’ Isabel asks like she doesn’t know exactly why I’m feeling nervous.

‘No, my big mouth last night does.’ I want to keep on walking down the street. I don’t want to enter the building. I don’t want to face Ethan or Jackson. Though, maybe I won’t even see them. Maybe they’ve already forgotten the previous night.

Maybe that’s even worse.

Maybe being forgotten by the two hottest men I’ve ever interacted with in real life is more scarring than dancing on a tabletop. Going back to being wallpaper is not the promising alternative I’m looking for.

I don’t know if that would make me feel any happier.

A wash of sadness hits me as I stand there. It’s weird to be someone that doesn’t exist to someone else. I’m so used to men’s eyes going past me, like I’m nothing. Last night was different, even if it wasn’t for the best reason. Last night, all eyes were on me. Maybe I wouldn’t be as crazy next time. But I don’t want to go back into my shell.

I don’t want to go back to being invisible.

‘You okay, Sarah?’ Isabel’s voice is soft. ‘You want me to bring you eggs and soup and tea and stuff? Maybe some headache tablets and…’ She pauses. ‘Anything you think you’ll need to feel better?’

‘I’ll be okay.’ I debate telling her what’s on my mind. That I’m feeling waves of sadness. That I’ve fallen into a hole of self-doubt and pity and overcompensated the night before. ‘It just hit me that I might be so nervous about going into work, and it could be for naught. Maybe they won’t even remember last night. It’s not like they care what a peon at their company gets up to. Ethan didn’t even realize I worked for him.’ The hurt hits me in the stomach like a gut punch once again. I don’t want to think about why it hurts so badly.

Every time I’ve been overlooked in the past sits upon my shoulders—the feeling of not being pretty enough, memorable enough. I don’t know why it’s hitting me now. I should be happy to be a nothing at this moment. But in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to be a nothing. I don’t want to be the funny friend or the shoulder to cry on. I don’t want to be the overgrown weeds in the garden next to the beautiful fragrant roses.

‘There is no way they will forget you or last night. Trust me.’ There’s silence on the phone for a few moments, and she continues. ‘I know what it’s like to be ignored, Sarah. To feel like you’re unnoticed and not good enough. You, me, and Ella. We were always the girls that no one noticed. That’s how we all met. And maybe that’s manifested itself in us being dramatic and outlandish at times. But it’s also why we’re so fun, and cool, and unique. Ella got her Mr. Right and you will, as well.’

‘I don’t expect my boss to be my Mr. Right,’ I say quickly, though my heart races at the thought. ‘Or even Mr. Right Now.’ I giggle as I think of the muscular guy.

‘I think your boss wanted to be a Mr. Right Now, for sure.’ She’s lighthearted again. ‘If you saw the way he was looking—’

‘Wait, which boss? Jackson or Ethan?’ I ask, my heart racing. I see a limo pulling up next to me, and I wonder if a star is going to pop out. My jaw drops as I see Ethan sliding out of the back seat. ‘I gotta go,’ I whisper into the phone and hang up. I’m standing there, watching Ethan as he heads toward me. I know I need to head inside, but I can’t seem to move. Maybe it’s because I want to see if he will remember me. I’m playing with fire, and I don’t think I care if I get burned. I’m the one who lit the candle in the first place.

‘Good morning, Ms. Kahan.’ Ethan’s voice is dry and sarcastic as he stares at me. ‘Were you debating if you’re going to come in to work today or just going to go to the club to make it rain.’

‘Good morning, Mr. Rosser.’ I tilt my head to the side and smile sweetly. ‘The dance club doesn’t open until the evening and there’s no prediction for rain today in the weather forecast.’ I feign ignorance.

‘We both know I’m not talking about the dance club.’ He takes in my appearance, and I think he’s frowning. ‘Is that part of your schtick?’ He looks at me from my head to my toes and back to my eyes.

‘Sorry, what are you talking about?’

‘Dowdy librarian to begin the day to dance and sexy temptress when you end?’

I don’t know whether to be offended or complimented by his comment. It’s nice to know he thought I was sexy, at some point, but hearing I look dowdy now is not nice. Even though I’ve come to a similar conclusion only recently, it’s still never nice to hear someone confirming your own negative thoughts. Especially when the word dowdy is used.

‘Really?’

‘You’re in your beginning dance attire. Though, I assume the club expects you to dress up a bit more than this.’ He waves his hand at my outfit like a game show model. ‘But I guess it makes the transformation even more powerful.’

‘I have to get inside and do some work,’ I say stiffly. I hold my handbag to my side and nod my head at him. I can feel a warm hue on my face. ‘Have a good day, Mr. Rosser.’

‘I’ll be down in the copywriting department later.’ He nods, a thin smile on his face. ‘Perhaps I shall see you then.’

‘Perhaps you shall,’ I say formally. Too formally for someone who was giggling about wearing thongs not twenty-four hours prior to that.

I move toward the entrance and realize that he’s walking beside me. I sneak a peek at his side profile as he holds the door open for me.

‘Thanks,’ I say curtly and walk through. I fully expect him to give me a snide you’re welcome, but he doesn’t respond. He holds the door open for a few more people and I continue to the elevator by myself. My heart is racing from the interaction, and I feel like I need to splash my face with cold water. My body feels like it’s on fire, and I don’t want to analyze the feeling too closely. I walk into the elevator, and I’m about to bury my face in my hands and scream when it dings and the doors open again.

‘Fancy seeing you again.’ Ethan walks into the elevator and presses the button for the top floor. ‘What level are you on?’ he asks as his long, tan fingers hover over the numbers.

‘Seventeen,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

‘No worries. I should have remembered that.’ He presses the number and steps back. ‘Copywriting is seventeen.’

‘Yes, I’m in the copywriting department,’ I say as if we both don’t already know this. I should be happy that he has not forgotten me. I am a little wired by the previous interaction, though he still has a knack for irritating me in the most tantalizing way. I want to push him up against the wall and both smack and kiss him.

‘And you enjoy it?’

‘The seventeenth floor?’

‘The copyrighting department.’

‘Oh.’ I grin. ‘It’s okay.’

‘Not as much fun as a stage, huh?’

‘Well, it’s not like I’m part-time on Broadway.’ I shake my head and try not to roll my eyes. ‘I’m not the new lead in Wicked.’

‘You’ve got the dance moves for it though.’

‘You don’t actually know if I do have the dance moves, if you’re quite honest. You’ve never seen me really dance.’

‘Is that an offer?’ He raises an eyebrow, and I wonder what he’s thinking inside that handsome head of his. Is he flirting with me? He couldn’t be flirting with me. Not Ethan Rosser. He’s not a flirt. He dates a lot, but everyone knows he doesn’t seem to be big on romance or flirting. Is he trying to test me? I don’t even know how to respond. This entire encounter is blowing my mind. A part of me wants to press the emergency button and start doing a dance right then and there. He’s hot and I’d love to have my wicked way with him. ‘So, is it?’ He takes a step toward me, his eyes crinkling as he smooths down the front of his shirt. I have no idea what I’m going to say in response.