I turn my phone on silent. I’ll text her later, like when I’m sitting at my desk and am supposed to be doing work. Ben returns to the table.

“How’s work?”

“Meh, it’s work.”

“Are you going on any more customer service calls?”

I shake my head. “The temp is there to take over, thank God. I really don’t like dealing with people,” I admit and Ben laughs. “Though I’m glad I took that one call with that asshole client.”

“I’m glad you did too.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, gently pressing his thumb into my palm. “Want to go out again this weekend?”

“I do,” I say without even having to think about it. “Have anything in mind?”

“Dinner … movie … sex,” he says casually and it takes all I have not to look around and see who heard. Not that I’d mind, since that sex is happening with me.

“I can live with that,” I tell him. “Friday?”

He makes a face. “I have a gala Friday. Is Saturday okay?”

“Yeah,” I say then wonder if I should act like I have a life. Why lie? My ideal Friday night is one spent at home anyway, with fictional characters and wine to keep me company. We talk and laugh throughout lunch, and soon it’s time for me to head back to the office. Ben walks me to my car.

His hands settle on my waist and he pushes his hips into mine. I can’t help but get turned on. I hook my arms around his neck.

“If I called your work and personally requested you, would you get sent out to help me plug in my router?” he asks, voice heavy with innuendo.

“Possibly,” I say. “It’s worth a try. Because that’s definitely a problem I can help you with. And my boss is out sick, so whoever you talk to won’t really know what’s going on.”

I want him, and my lady parts that were oh so lonely until recently agree. I’m getting wet just thinking about doing the sex again. Screw work. There’s an alley behind this cafe…

“I’ll call,” he says. “Say you messed up something else and act like I’m pissed.”

“Good thing my boss is out sick or this wouldn’t work,” I say. “Because I’m very good at plugging in routers.”  Then I shake my head. “He wouldn’t buy it if you said I messed it up. Not that I’ve done it personally for him. He swings the other way, actually.” I need to stop talking. Like yesterday. I shake my head and look down, letting my vision focus on his crotch.

“Well, that works in my favor then.” He tips my chin up and kisses me, leaving me breathless. We part our ways and I smile like a goon for a few minutes. Then I shake myself and call Erin. I give her a brief recap of our lunch date.

“I told you he likes you!” she says.

“It’s still too early to really know,” I argue and ignore that nagging feeling of dread bubbling inside me. The one that questions why he likes me. I’m just me, nothing special, nothing overly memorable.

Just plain, ‘ol Felicity.

“Though,” she goes on. “I do wonder why he didn’t ask you to go to that gala with him. I assume he’d take a date. You usually do to fancy events.”

“I half wondered the same thing.”

“Half wondered?”

“Yeah,” I say. “The thought entered my head but I didn’t want to think about it because I knew you could take dates to those events, and why am I not his date. I can be sophisticated. Well, I can act sophisticated.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” I insist and push down on the gas to get through a yellow light. “He did tell me he dates. Like we didn’t specify that we’re exclusive or anything, and he said early on that he used to—still does—shit if I know. Whatever. He’s free to date other women until some rules are laid down, right?”

“Right. And you can date other men.”

“Good, since I got a line of ‘em outside my door.”

“Hey, you never know.”

I let out a snort. “True. But it’s whatever. I like Ben, even if it’s all casual for now. There’s always a later.”

“I love your outlook,” she says. “I wish I was like that.”

“You can be,” I say. Erin is a worrier. Stage four, incurable worrier. “Just loosen up. Or drink more wine. That’s what I do.”

“I had a glass last night.”

“I had a bottle last night,” I say, and I’m only exaggerating a bit. “I’m back at work,” I sigh. “How’s the bakery today?”

“Slow,” she replies. “Which is kind of nice. This weekend is going to be crazy with orders. Someone ordered a five-hundred dollar Ninja Turtle cake for their kid’s first birthday.”

“I’m kind of jealous.”

“It’s an awesome cake,” she says. “But that much for a one-year-old?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty crazy. Don’t babies smash and drool all over their first cakes too?”

“Oh, they ordered a separate ‘smash cake’ for the kid.”

“Entitled little asshole.”

“You’re telling me.” I take a spot in the back of the parking lot, knowing it’s not even worth driving up to the doors to look for my spot I had earlier. I swear there are parking vultures around here, watching for anyone a row up to move their car. Maybe they can’t do simple math, because walking out to move the car, then back in, then back out, comes to more walking than just in and out like a normal person. “All right, later, bitch.”

“Bye, hun,” she says and we hang up. I gather my stuff, grab my pink lemonade, and go into work. I sit at my desk for all of two minutes before Cameron’s assistant calls me into his office. I get a few stares from my fellow employees, and Mariah tries to meet my eyes. They think I’m in trouble. I can’t look at her. I’m not ashamed, but I can’t contain this either. If Ben’s plan goes as, well, planned, I’m basically being summoned for a booty call.

That’s kind of fucking epic.

“What’s up, Jason?”

“Some girl named Mindy called from that gallery you went to last week.”

I can’t help the abhorrence that shows on my face and the nausea that twists in my stomach. Mindy fucking Abraham is even worse than the aftertaste of grape-flavored cough syrup.

“Oh, and?”

His thick eyebrows push together. “She couldn’t even explain what the problem was, just that there was a problem. And she’d like you to come back and help fix it, since you installed new software or something.”

Jason is an older man, rocking the dad-bod. He rubs his head. “Good luck with this one. I couldn’t get a decent answer out of her. Can you head over and see if you can handle it?”

I sigh. “I guess. Want me to leave now?”

“Yeah, just get it taken care of. Hell of a day for Cameron to get sick.”

“You’ve been busy?”

“Just one of those days, ya know?”

“I do,” I say and feel a little guilty. I didn’t want to stress anyone out. “I’ll go now. Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“Thanks.”

I was hoping he’d say to leave once I was done, but it is early in the second half of the work day. I keep my eyes down as I walk to my desk, which probably furthers everyone’s thinking I got yelled at.

“Follow-up customer service,” I quickly explain to Mariah. “Still covering those.”

Her mouth forms a little “o” and she nods. “Have fun,” she says.

“It shouldn’t be too bad.” Hell, it’s going to be good.

*

I step into the gallery, having almost forgotten about Mindy. Seeing her sitting behind the desk with her perfect blonde hair in perfect curls, and her perfect silk blouse perfectly showing off the right amount of perfect fake cleavage is like a sucker punch.

 “Felicity,” she says, lipsticked lips pulling back into what she would call a smile. “The computers aren’t working. Ben’s isn’t working at all.” She says each word slowly, and blinks several times. Are her eyelashes real? No one has eyelashes that long. Though, if anyone did, it’d be her.

“Then I better go up there and get to work.”

“Yeah, you better. I thought you were supposed to be like super smart and you can’t even do something simple like this,” she says with a sigh. “No wonder you failed out of MIT and had to go to that little community college.”