Flirting with the Boss: A love at the Gym Novel Page 10

  That’s how I met Brent, and we become friends. But being in a different dorm didn’t stop her from stalking me and trying to get me to date her. Brent helped me avoid her, but it took blocking her number and blocking her on social media and threatening to call the cops to get rid of her. And now here she is, standing just a few feet away, smiling at me like we’re old friends.

  Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and large silver hoop earrings shine in the sunlight. She makes it very obvious that she’s checking me out.

  “Hey, Noah,” she says in this flirty tone that sets me on edge. She wiggles her fingers at me in a wave. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “This is a private party,” I say. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “It’s on social media,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not very private.”

  “It’s invite only and you weren’t invited. You should go.”

  “Noah, why are you so mean?” she whines, stepping forward. She stumbles, reaching out and steadying herself on her car. “Ugh, stupid shoes,” she says, kicking off her sandals.

  It’s right about now that I realize she’s drunk. I should have guessed it from the start. That was always how it went with Jordan. She’d show up at my dorm, drunk at worst, tipsy at best. She’d throw herself all over me, beg me to be her boyfriend. I started off being polite to her, telling her I appreciated it but I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. It wasn’t a lie when I’d said I was busy with school work. Too busy to date. But she never believed me. She’d get mad, or worse depending on how much she’d had to drink. She’d yell and throw things and try to break all my electronics.

  Her brother didn’t do anything about it. I guess he’d given up on trying to control his sister a long time ago. He’d just shrug and say, “sorry, man,” whenever I’d look at him across our dorm while his sister was throwing a tantrum.

  Most of the time she was just tipsy, and she’d come over and be all energetic and flirty. I quickly learned that if I was just nice to her, she’d calm down and be okay. She just wanted to sit on the couch and watch me do my homework. Admittedly, I let it go on longer than it should have, but I was a dumb nineteen-year-old and didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to be rude. But in the end, I could be nice or rude and it didn’t matter.

  Jordan has a drinking problem and she needs help. She needed help a long time ago, and now, all these years later, it looks like she never got it. My heart actually goes out to her because this is no way to live.

  Jordan smiles up at me now, her eyes glassy and her steps clumsy. “You look really good,” she says, reaching out her hand toward me.

  I take a step back. “You’re drunk, Jordan.”

  She shrugs. “I missed you.”

  “You know we’re not friends, right?”

  She shrugs again. “I can still miss you. I think about you all the time, Noah. You’re my little top hat.”

  A chill races through my body, setting all my nerves on fire. “You sent the emails.”

  Her grin is almost scary as she nods. “Yes, I did. Because I miss you, Noah. I want to be with you.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” All those emails we exchanged suddenly come back to me. I think of everything I wrote and how excited I was to see a new email in my inbox because it wanted it to be from Tasha. Now, knowing who really sent them, I feel sick. I can’t believe I ever replied at all. Now I just feel like I encouraged her to seek me out.

  “Noah, why are you like this?” she says, jutting out her bottom lip in a pout. “I’m sorry I was a brat in college, I really am. But that doesn’t mean I’m the same girl because I’m not. I grew up, and I’m a good person now. And I really want you to give me a chance.”

  I shake my head, my thoughts scrambling around as I try to think of a way to end this conversation and make her leave. But now that I can tell she’s clearly been drinking, she has no business driving. Her Jeep isn’t even parked correctly in the parking spot.

  With Tasha here, I feel even more wracked with guilt. I only just started this thing with her, and I don’t want Jordan showing up and ruining it or making Tasha think she can’t trust me. This looks bad. It looks like Jordan must have been in my life recently, even though she hasn’t and I absolutely can’t let anything get in the way of this amazing new thing with Tasha. So I take a deep breath and do something I hope I won’t regret.

  “Give me your keys.”

  She hands them over without objection, probably because she thinks I’m going to hang out with her.

  “Get in,” I say, nodding toward her car. “I’ll drive.”

  She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Yay! Where are we going?”

  I know better than to tell her the truth right now, because she might flip out and start screaming. And I can’t have her scream or cause any attention because then Tasha might notice. So I force myself to give her a smile. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oooh,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I can’t wait!”

  I feel like a jerk, but it gets her into the car. I climb in the drivers’ side and start the car. With any luck, I can take her back home and then have one of the guys bring me back to the park and Tasha will never know. Maybe I’ll tell her I got sick or something and had to go get medicine.

  My stomach tightens at the very idea of it. Starting off a relationship with a lie isn’t how I want my life with Tasha to go. But as I drive out of the park with a drunk girl sitting next to me, petting my arm and telling me how much she loves me, I’m not sure what I can do to make everything okay.

  20

  Tasha

  My heart is lodged in my throat. The feeling is almost like I’m being suffocated, or drowning, or I don’t even know. But it’s an awful feeling as I stand here, pretending to care about the volleyball game, wondering where Noah went and if he ditched me on purpose. It really doesn’t seem like something he’d do, but maybe I don’t know him well enough to know what he’d do.

  But still, who says they’ll get you a drink and then disappears? If he didn’t like how I was flirting with him, he could have found a better way to let me know. He could have just said he had something to do and then walked away. Ugh.

  “Hey there,” Kris says from my left. He’s great and all, but his voice isn’t the voice I want to hear right now. He holds out one of two drink cans he’s holding. “Noah told me to give this to you.”

  “Where is he?” I ask, noting the weird look on Kris’ face. He’s definitely concerned about something.

  “He, uh, had something come up at the gym.”

  I don’t know why, but my gut tells me he’s lying. And of course he would. Kris is loyal to Noah before me. But why does he have to lie for him? What’s going on?

  “Is he okay?” I ask.

  Kris nods, cracking open the other soda in his hand. He takes a long sip that feels like he’s stalling to avoid talking to me.

  “You sure?” I ask, trying to get more information out of him.

  “Yeah, Tash. He’s fine. Promise.” Kris smiles and then downs the rest of his soda in a couple gulps. “I have to go relieve Brent at the grill. It’s his turn to take over the gym. How do you like your burgers cooked?”

  I shrug. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll make you one anyway,” Kris says, giving me a quick tap on the shoulder before he walks away.

  In front of me, the volleyball game continues, and Janie seems to be having fun. I look down at the drink in my hand, the drink that was promised by Noah but delivered by his friend. I feel only a little better that he had Kris bring it to me—at least he didn’t totally ditch me, but the circumstances are weird. What kind of problem could possibly arise that doesn’t let him take two seconds to tell me he’s leaving?

  I look around to find Noah’s truck in the parking lot. It’s still there, parked right on the end like it was when I got here. So… what the heck?

  Then I see him. My heart stops. He’s talking to a
woman with a blonde ponytail and short shorts and a killer tan. I can’t see her face from here, but I’m sure she’s gorgeous. My throat goes dry as I watch her hand him something. Then he opens the passenger door of a red Jeep and the girl climbs inside.

  Oh how very gentlemanly of him, I think as disgust and anger and sadness hit me all at once. I should look away. I should maybe play some volleyball myself so I can hit out all my rage on the ball. But I don’t do anything except stand here, staring across the park, watching while he gets in the girl’s Jeep and drives away.

  * * *

  Somehow, I managed to get through the rest of the company picnic. Call it sheer willpower and the desire to be a strong woman who won’t breakdown just because a guy doesn’t like her, but I did it. It was hard, but I’m strong. I have to be.

  My strength has limits, though. As soon as I pull my car into the parking lot of our apartment complex, I start crying. It’s not soft, simple tears either. It’s bad. It’s full on sobbing in the front seat of my car next to my teenage niece.

  “Tasha?” Janie says, her hand touching my arm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head and try to wipe away the tears, but it’s no use because they just keep on coming. “I’m fine,” I say, which is hilariously ironic because I am anything but fine right now. “You can go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” she says. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m… I just…” I draw in a shaky breath, trying to steady my whole body to keep it from shaking. “I just remembered something sad.”

  “That’s bull crap and you know it,” Janie says. “What happened? Is it because that Noah guy wasn’t hanging out with you?”

  My nostrils flare at the mention of his name.

  “I saw you,” she says, going on in her annoying way. “You were alone most of the time, or hanging out with Brent and his girlfriend. I thought you got all dressed up for Noah. So why didn’t you talk to him?”

  “Because he left me,” I say, bursting into tears again. And then, just because I know she won’t shut up about it, and maybe because I do kind of want to talk to someone, I tell her what happened. I tell her all about the girl in the Jeep and how he just left, and how it’s been three hours since then and I haven’t heard a single word from him. Not a text. Nothing.

  “He’s probably making out with her right now,” I say over the sobs that make my voice all messed up. “I can’t believe I’m so stupid.”

  “You’re the smartest person I know,” Janie says, reaching for my hand across the console of my car. “He’s an idiot if he chose someone else over you.”

  Such kind words from someone so young. But they don’t mean anything. She’s just being nice, just doing her part as my family, trying to make me feel better. I do appreciate her efforts, but that doesn’t mean it helps or solves anything. My heart hurts. My heart has hurt for a long time, and now it’s only worse. I feel stupid and embarrassed and… unworthy. Why am I not lovable by someone like Noah? Why am I only attractive to jerks like Jason from my work?

  “I hate this,” I mutter to my steering wheel. My tears have stopped, but my heart is still firmly in my throat, beating away so hard that my whole chest hurts.

  “We have ice cream in the freezer,” Janie says. “Let’s go eat it and watch movies.”

  “That won’t help,” I say with an exhausted sigh.

  “So what?” Janie says. “It might not help, but it’s doing something. And sitting here doing nothing definitely won’t help. So let’s go do something.”

  I look over at my niece. She’s suddenly all grown up and kind and considerate. She’s becoming a good person, despite the failings of her past.

  “I think I’ll keep you,” I say, a soft smile forming on my lips.

  She grins. “Good. Because I have nowhere else to go.”

  21

  Noah

  The weekend crawls by, each hour seemingly more miserable than the one before it. I sent Tasha two texts after I had to leave the picnic with Jordan, and she never responded. I’ve looked at my phone so many times since that day that my texts are burned into my memory. I know them word for word.

  I’m so so so sorry, something came up and I had to leave.

  And then, two hours later:

  I was having such a great time with you at the picnic. Sorry I had to bail. Long story… I’ll explain it one day.

  No reply.

  If she were any other coworker, I wouldn’t think twice about it. The guys and I can go days without responding to texts if they aren’t important. But Tasha isn’t just any coworker. We were flirting pretty hard that day, and then I’d just bailed on her. She’s mad. I can feel it. And she has every single right to be mad.

  I’m dying for Monday to get here so I can see her at work and apologize in person. Texting is too informal and I shouldn’t have sent those texts anyway. I should have showed up at her house or something and apologized in person. Here it is, Sunday night, and I’m still wondering if that’s what I should do. But I remember how she told me that her creepy coworker showed up at her house, and I don’t want to be put in the same category as that guy. I’ll respect her space.

  This just really sucks.

  I take my dogs on a walk and then come home and try to binge watch some TV shows to take my mind off Tasha, but it doesn’t work. What really ruins everything is that my phone keeps going off every hour or so. It’s Jordan, who keeps making new social media accounts and then messaging me. One good thing is that she doesn’t have my personal cell number, but she knows my social media and she’s unrelenting in her attempts to contact me.

  Once I had left the park in Jordan’s Jeep, she wouldn’t tell me where she lived. She might have been pretty drunk, but I think she suspected that I was trying to take her home to get rid of her. She’d begged me to take her to my house, to let her stay and hang out. I pulled over at a mall and stopped the car and tried to tell her in very plain words that what she was doing was not okay. I told her I didn’t know her very well, and I didn’t want a relationship with her. She didn’t really listen to me, she just kept shaking her head and trying to convince me to go out with her. It was a complete disaster. I didn’t want to be actually mean to her, so I didn’t yell or insult her or anything, but I kept my voice calm and strict. I tried to be absolutely clear with her that I didn’t like her in any way.

  Still, she refused to tell me where she lived. So I had done the only thing I could think of, short of dropping her off at the police station. I took her to her parent’s house. I remember where it was since I’d been there with my old roommate a few times. Their parents like to have large parties and invite everyone. It was easy to remember which house it was because of the large u-shaped driveway.

  The moment Jordan realized we were approaching her parent’s house, she got angry. She started yelling and demanding that I turn around and leave. But instead, I locked the doors, pulled into the driveway, and honked the horn until her parents came out, confused and annoyed. It was awkward, but at least I left her somewhere safe. I asked her parents to make sure she doesn’t contact me anymore, and they apologized on behalf of their daughter, who was drunkenly standing in the driveway telling me she loved me.

  The whole day had been a disaster, but I’d hoped it would all be contained to that day. Stupid me, with my stupid hopes. No, Jordan must have sobered up that night because she had lots of energy to message me online, apologizing and asking me to give her another chance. I told her no, asked her not to contact me, and then blocked her account. But she just made a new account and messaged me again, ten minutes later.

  Now, I look at my phone and block this new account she made on Instagram. This must be the tenth account she created just to message me. I toss my head back on the couch and look up at the ceiling. Light from the television flickers across the darkened room, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. As much as I don’t want to admit t
his, I might actually need to get a restraining order against Jordan. Or at the very least, call the police and get them involved. This can’t go on, and the poor girl needs help. I couldn’t stand dealing with her stalking back in college, but now is an even worse time. Now, I’m trying to start something new and wonderful with Tasha, and the last thing I need is for Jordan to mess that up.

  With my resolve set, I unblock Jordan’s newest account, and I type one message to her.

  This is the only time I will say this and this will be my last message. I am requesting that you do not message me or contact me in any shape or form ever again. If you do, I will be going to the police station and immediately filing a restraining order. Do not contact me again.

  She replies instantly, sending half a dozen sad emojis and begging me to give her a chance. As much as I don’t want to be that person, I think I will need a restraining order. Her messages keep flooding my Instagram inbox, making me feel more sad for this girl than anything. If this were any other time, I’d just turn off my phone. But I can’t risk turning it off and missing a text from Tasha.

  Of course if she didn’t reply to my texts on Friday or Saturday or all day today, what makes me think she’ll reply to them tonight? My stupid, hopeless heart, that’s what.

  I take another deep breath. It’s almost midnight. Tomorrow is almost here, and then at four o’clock I’ll see her when she gets to work. I’ll explain it all. I’ll make things better.

  * * *

  Monday does not go how I planned. Tasha arrives right at four, just like always. I’m standing at the front counter, trying to make it look like I wasn’t waiting on her even though I was, but she doesn’t even look over at me when she walks into work. She goes straight to the locker room to change clothes, then she grabs a duster and starts dusting off the weight machines.