STRUGGLE: Prologue
“Pay attention.” I giggle, pushing David on the side of the head for fake snoring.
“Why are you making me sit through this girly movie?” He gestures towards the TV screen as the Keira Knightley and James McAvoy struggle with their forbidden attraction. “Just fuck and get it over with already.”
“Because it was my turn to pick. You made me sit through that horrible action movie that didn’t even have a plot last week. Consider us even.” Atonement is one of my favourite movies. So heartbreaking and beautiful. David could do with a little angst in his life. Especially since he’s the reason for most of the angst in mine—long story.
“Fine,” he grumbled, tapped my legs where they lay across his lap. “But I’ll need more beer to get through this. You want one?”
Shaking my head, I shift my position, my eyes glued to the screen as the library scene is about to happen. I’m dying here. I’ve seen this movie five times, and I still get caught up in it.
Over my shoulder, I hear David at the fridge, twisting the cap off a beer. I know he hates these kinds of movies, but my boyfriend, Christopher hates them even more. Since David has been my best friend since primary school, he gets to be my romantic movie buddy. I don’t really have girlfriends, so…
“Shit,” David mutters as a key turns in the door.
My heart gallops inside my chest. Shit is the understatement of the year. Fuck might be more appropriate because my aforementioned boyfriend—the boyfriend who hates David and forbade me to see him—is home.
I lock eyes with David, my stomach souring. I know it was wrong to lie to Christopher about seeing David. Just like I know it was wrong to lie to David about Christopher being OK with our friendship. But I feel caught in the middle, forced to choose between my boyfriend and my best friend. When I love them both, how am I supposed to do that? I lied because I hoped that with enough time, they’d figure their differences out and come together for the sake of me. Christopher would accept that David isn’t trying to steal me away, and David would accept that Christopher loves and wants me. But, now isn’t the time. Emotions are still too raw.
Christopher will lose his shit.
“Stay,” I whisper, jumping to my feet to meet Christopher at the door and try to explain before he sees David. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“You’re e-early,” I stutter, wincing when my nerves betray me. Without meaning to, I glance at David for support. It’s the worst thing I could do.
Oh god.
Christopher’s face darkens as he follows my line of sight, spotting David. I swear I see steam hiss out of his ears as mottled anger climbs up his neck, reddening his skin to his ears.
“G’day, mate,” David says, flashing a smile that was anything but pleased.
They locked eyes in silent challenge.
This is not OK. This is not OK.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Christopher bellows, launching himself at warp speed in David’s direction. He doesn’t even hesitate, he simply cocks his arm back and lands his fist with explosive force into the side of David’s jaw. I hear his teeth clack and the beer slips from his hand and smashes all over the floor.
“No,” I scream, covering my mouth in horror as David’s eyes roll back and he drops to the floor. “What are you doing, Christopher? Get away from him!”
Furious, Christopher ignores my plea, grabbing David by the front of the shirt and shaking him. “Think you can come into my house and drink my beer,” he spits, David’s head rocking back and forth.
“Please, stop!”
He pulls David close and growls in his unconscious ear. “Did you fuck my woman too?” He releases his shirt, dropping him with a thud.
The impact jolts him conscious, confusion registering moments before he scrambles to get up, impaired by Christopher’s unyielding grip. Protesting, fighting and kicking, David fails to break free as Christopher opens the front door and throws him into the hall.
“Stay the fuck away for good this time,” he booms, slamming the door and flicking the lock.
“Fuck you!” David yells, banging at the door in frustration.
“What is wrong with you?” I screech, tears streaming down my face.
When Christopher turns, fear claws its way up my throat. Gone are the soulful brown eyes I spent hours falling into. In their place, sharp angry beads of untamed fury. He’s going to kill me. “You lying bitch.”
Propelling himself across the room, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, snarling in my face. “How long have you been fucking him behind my back?”
“No. I didn’t. Nothing happened,” I scream, eyes closed tight as I wish for this to be over. Like a little girl in trouble, I wish like wishes exist. Please make this stop. Please don’t let this be real.
“Lies.” Grabbing my face with his free hand, he squeezes my cheeks together until my jaw hurts and I taste blood.
“Stop,” I whimper, crying uselessly.
I claw at his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. But, the moment my feet leave the ground, I know it is over.
As I fly through the air, everything around me slows. A romantic movie continues to play on the TV. The half eaten box of pizza sits open on the coffee table. Christopher spits as he hurls distorted insults. And the front door rattles on its hinges. I find it strange that I notice a room full of details, but my life doesn’t flash before my eyes like it should. I don’t see every important moment in a slow motion montage. I wish I did. Because then I’d be dancing, dancing with David at the year ten formal, hoping he’d finally choose me.
Now it’s too late.
Time speeds up and I scream. I scream David, wishing for him as my heart and soul cries out for everything we never were to each other. Everything we never would be.
I love you...
I always loved you.
A blinding pain. A thumping heart. My vision blurs. Then…
Nothing.
Chapter 1
12 months later
If my life was a movie it’d be playing Dolly Parton’s Nine to Five, as I enter the building in Sydney’s Martin Place that houses the law offices of Turner, Barlow & Smith. It’s my first day as the part-time librarian. Actually, it’s my first job full-stop, and I’m nervous as hell.
In that movie, the music would come to a screeching halt the moment I approach the reception area and open my mouth.
With a finger held up to silence me, the frosty receptionist gives me a look that tells me I’m no better than the crud under her beautifully manicured fingernails. She isn’t even on a call. But she makes me wait until one comes in and she answers it.
“Turner, Barlow and Smith. How can I direct your call?”
I have to admit I feel a little intimidated by her looks. She’s beautifully made up and very curvaceous; like one of those sexy cartoon pin up girls you see from wartime posters. She has jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders, and a bust daring to break through her fitted blouse that a flat chested girl like me would pay dearly for. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster standing near her.
I wait while she answers and redirects a few calls. And even when it’s obvious that she’s doing nothing, she still makes me wait. I feel my nerves skitter about in my chest before I take a deep breath and clear my throat.
She looks at me with her lips pursed, and her perfect brows arched. It makes me wonder how she’s managed to keep this job. She’s not good at greeting possible clients.
Despite feeling ill at ease by the frostiness of her gaze, I take a deep breath. “I’m Katrina Mahoney. I start work here today.” She keeps staring. “Uh, in the library?” It comes out as a question, her blank look making me second guess myself. Am I in the right place?
“Take a seat.” She tilts her head back and looks down her nose at me—a difficult thing to do to someone as tall as I am, but she succeeds insurmountably. “The office manager will come for you when she’s ready.” Cutting eye contact, she immediately returns her attention to whatever she feels is more important than having some fucking manners.
Great start. I’m making friends already.
Taking a deep breath, I turn and look around the waiting area, sighing when I see the low-set furniture. I walk toward it, wondering how the heck I’m going to fold my long legs in some sort of dignified manner—I don’t want to flash the office manager when she comes out to collect me.
I choose to perch on the edge of a cream leather couch with my knees angling down with legs tucked to the side, imagining I look a little like a daddy longlegs, but not having much choice in the matter. This world isn’t built for tall girls in short skirts.
Being a librarian in a legal firm isn’t my top-tier career goal. I applied for this job in the hopes it would be a foot in the door by the time I graduate. I’m currently two years into studying a humanities/law degree at the University of Western Sydney. Ultimately, I want to practise family law, and landing a job in a big multi-focused law firm like TBS could be the in I need to get my career off to the right start.
My skirt isn’t that short, by the way. I’m just overly gangly.
Trying to look conservative for my first day, I chose to wear a black pinstripe skirt that ends a little above my knees. I’ve teamed it with a crimson satin blouse and black low heeled Mary-Jane shoes. I straightened the natural wave out of my long honey-blonde hair so it sits just below my shoulders, and I’m wearing enough makeup to give my lips and cheeks a rosy glow and cover an angry looking scar that runs along my hairline. Hence the Frankenstein reference.
I only have to sit awkwardly on the low-set chairs for a few minutes before a small woman who appears to be in her mid-forties and of Indian origin comes out to greet me. “I’m the office manager on this level; Priya,” she says, extending her hand in greeting. “You must be Katrina Mahoney.”
I immediately rise, dwarfing Priya with my six feet of height, smile, and shake her hand. “Yes, that’s me. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Priya looks up at me and says the first thing most people say upon meeting me. “My, you’re a tall one aren’t you?” I smile and nod to be polite, while inwardly rolling my eyes. Thanks for the brilliant deduction there, Watson. “Follow me. I’ll show you around the office.”
I do as I’m told, following closely behind and trying to take in as much information about my surroundings as possible.
Priya speaks over her shoulder and points things out as we go along. “In here are the conference rooms. In your position, you’ll only need to know about them for drinks on Friday nights—there’s a social committee in charge of all that. You can join if you like. Mary runs it. She should come and talk to you about it at some point during the day. We like our employees participating in group activities. Helps us work better as a team.”
She flashes a smile then continues down the corridor, passing different offices and cubicles. She explains that the corner offices are for the partners, and the window offices for the junior and senior solicitors. In the area outside their offices, the personal assistant's cubicles reside with a block of windowless offices in the centre of the floor for accounts and other support staff. This centre block also contains the library and the break room.
“Here’s where you’ll be working.” Priya stops outside a room, two regular offices wide. It’s lined with built-in bookcases on three walls that reach up the high ceiling. Through the centre are two rows of smaller bookcases, and on the third wall, a reference computer, an ancient looking microfiche reader, and a photocopier. Crammed behind all of that is my desk.
Priya walks towards it and places a hand on top of the cubicle divider. “You can put your bag in the bottom drawer,” she says, tapping the desk with her foot. “It locks.” Then she takes me through the computer login process and sifts through my already full desk tray, showing me law journal updates and explaining how the firm’s library system works.
“The microfiche machine lives in here, but since everything is online now, it isn’t commonly used. However, we do still have a number of solicitors who prefer the old tech. They’ll send you a request for the microfilm and you’ll need to get them from the archives. Elliot, one of our newest junior solicitors, is in charge of those. He’s also responsible for cataloging these law magazines.” She pulls them out of my tray and I wonder why they aren’t just sent to him directly. “I’ll take you to meet him now.”
Priya leads me down the busy corridor to a small office wedged between the partner’s big corner office and all the regular sized offices. I would have thought it a storage room if I wasn’t shown different.
“He’s just in here.” She taps on the closed door and waits patiently for the OK to go in. When she opens the door, a man in his early twenties looks up from his work revealing the most vivid blue eyes I have ever seen.
I catch my breath a little as I drink him in, feeling shocked I’m even reacting to him. Since my altercation with Christopher, I’ve barely even noticed the opposite sex. But this man—this Elliot—well, he’s something else. He’s gorgeous.
Even through his dress shirt, I can see how well muscled he is, his face showing that smattering of stubble I love on a man. I don’t know how else to describe him, except to say he’s stunning—those blue eyes, that full mouth, his light golden-brown hair and broad shoulders—I feel myself swoon a little but return to reality when I notice him arch one of those perfect eyebrows of his in question.
“Sorry to interrupt, Elliot. But, I just wanted to introduce you to our new librarian, Kat,” Priya says, indicating me.
“Um, no. It’s Katrina,” I correct, hating having my name shortened to that of a small furry animal.
“Sorry—Katrina,” Priya amends with a slight eye roll.
Elliot doesn’t speak at first. He just sits there, studying me.
Is there something in my teeth?
My cheeks flush involuntarily, as the discomfort of being stared at causes me to nervously look around the room, out the door. Anywhere but at him.
My apparent unease seems to make him realise he’s staring. He quickly clears his throat and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Katrina.”
His voice, wow. It’s as beautiful as the rest of him with a deep rumble that sends chills up my spine.
I’m trying desperately to be cool so he doesn’t notice my immediate attraction. A guy like this must have women swooning all over him. I don’t need him to think I’m one of them—despite his hotness. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty years on this earth, it’s that hot guys and I don’t mix. We’re better off as friends. I’ve dated guys who look as good him before and it’s never ended well. The scars I bear are the perfect testament to that.
I manage a tight smile. “Hi, um, uh, Elliot.”
Inwardly, my eyes roll. You sound like an idiot. And to make matters worse, there’s silence after that. Nobody says a word, and this awkwardness envelops us like a scratchy woollen blanket.
Say something smart. “Ah…” My eyes dart around the room, trying to find a talking point to move things along. “Nice window.” I wince, regretting the comment the moment it leaves my mouth. You are to stupid to live, woman.
Elliot’s brow lifts again as glances over his shoulder at said window “It came with the office.” His blue eyes meet mine but reveal no emotion.
I nod and press my lips together so I can’t talk anymore. He thinks I’m a complete ditz. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, while moths of embarrassment churn through my stomach. Kill me, please.
Priya raises her eyebrows at the exchange. “Well, this was fun.” She ushers me out of his office as she says, “Just thought you should meet Katrina so you know what she is doing leaving things on your desk. Enjoy your day, Elliot.”
She gently closes his door and leads me back towards the library, not saying anything more until we’re back inside. “So, your bright-red face tells me you noticed he’s a bit of spunk, huh?”
I try to act nonchalant and shrug my shoulders a little. “He’s OK.”
“All the girls are after him, but he doesn’t show any interest. But don’t get any ideas. There’s a strict no-dating policy here, and he adheres to it. There’s a list of junior solicitors a mile long wanting to work here, and I really don’t think he is going to risk his job. Do yourself a favour and don’t get your hopes up.”
“My hopes are adequately low,” I say, mentally kicking myself for feeling a little disappointed.
“Someone nice to look at though, huh? Stops the office being so boring.”
“I suppose,” I answer carefully.
“Well.” She smiles. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”
I nod and thank her for the tour before getting started with work. As I flip through the items in my tray, I can’t imagine I’ll have any trouble. Everything is very basic. Sort books, gather microfiche and follow a simple instruction sheet for the law journal updates—take out page twenty-two, insert new page twenty-two—I’ll be fine.
Alone, I take some time to look around my new work space so I can take it all in. It feels peaceful being surrounded by books, and the colours of the room help add to the calming effect: pistachio green for the small spaces of wall, and a dim grey for the bookcases.
I have a job. Smiling, I twist lightly from side to side biting my lip as an idea comes to me. I peek over my partition to make sure I’m still alone then tuck my legs in tight and spin around in childish abandon. I place my hands on the desk to stop the spinning and sigh happily. It’s exciting to have my own space within an office. Even if it feels a little like a girl playing dress up.
Gathering the law volumes I need to update, I focus my mind on doing what I’m getting paid for. I don’t get far into the update before a woman a few years older than me with chestnut brown hair and a Mediterranean complexion comes in to introduce herself.
“Hi, you must be Katrina. I’m Mary, Francis’s PA—you may have seen him on your tour. I’m the head of the social committee!” She announces it to me like there should have been a TaDa! at the end of it. She seems very peppy. “I thought I’d pop in to welcome you to Turner, Barlow and Smith and give you a rundown of the things we like to do as a team here.”
“A team,” I repeat, bobbing my head as she prattles on.
“Yes. We do lots of fun things outside of work hours.”
I sit silently listening to her chatter about Friday drinks and various social activities that come up throughout the year.
“Last year we had a team enter a dragon boat race. And the year before that, we competed in a half marathon for charity. I hear you’re a bit sporty.”
“I’m a triathlete, yeah,” I say, regretting putting that information on my resume. Between uni, work and training, I won’t have time for corporate sports.
“Just what we need. Maybe if you come to Friday night drinks this week I can introduce you around? You drink don’t you?”
“Ah, sure. Yeah, I drink.”
“Great. Well it’s only half an hour, straight after work in the conference room.”
“OK, I’ll make sure I’m there,” I say, feeling the pressure to fit in.
“Excellent. This is your first job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, very first,” I admit.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll like it here. We’re a pretty good group of people. I mean, you get your cliques like you do everywhere, but most people here are real nice. I’ll see you around, if not, on Friday OK?” she turns to leave and practically bounces out the door.
“Sounds great,” I call after her, smiling weakly. I really didn’t know if I’m a Friday-night-drinks kind of person, but I figure I’d better show my face if I want to make any friends here. It sounds important.
After I get a little more work done, I leave the library to grab a coffee at morning tea time. There are two PA desks outside the offices in front of the library door, and one of the girls—a small, slightly rotund girl with a friendly face and dirty blonde hair tied up in a bouncy ponytail—gets up as I approach.
“You’re new,” she states in an Irish accent. “I’m Kayley.”
“Katrina,” I reply, and we shake hands briefly.
“I’m Greg’s PA. He's a bit creepy.” She whispers the last part.
“Is he?” My eyes skitter around nervously. I’m not really sure I should be having this conversation.
“Yeah, sometimes I go in there to drop something off, and he is under his desk.”
“Doing what?”
“Exactly! That’s the part I find creepy.”
I laugh, my concern ebbing away as we start to talk about how long she’s been working here and what some of the other girls are like.
When we reach the kitchen, I’m introduced to Anne and Carl, who are both filing clerks, as well as Albina and Joanne, who are both PAs. I can’t help but notice that most of the people in the break room are all support staff. Any solicitors who come in make their coffee or tea, utter some small talk and leave.
“They don’t really associate too much with all of us plebs,” Kaylee explains, handing me a cup for my coffee as we move along the line of people waiting for the water heater.
“Mary made it sound like the whole company was a team.”
She laughs. “Yeah. That’s a no. Management set up the social committee to foster some kind of cohesion between solicitors and support staff. It doesn’t really work, but they provide free drinks and food.” She shrugs as if that explains it all before she sucks in her breath and taps my arm. “Wouldn’t mind a little cohesion with this one, though. Check him out.” Her eyes are on the doorway where I find Elliot joining the end of the queue. He nods and says hello to a couple of people n their way out, but mostly stands there quietly, waiting his turn for coffee, tea or whatever his chosen refreshment is.
“Him? Yeah, I met him a little earlier. Doesn’t seem too friendly.”
“Pity.” Kaylee doesn’t hide the fact she’s openly staring at the guy. “He could make coming to work a hell of a lot more fun.”
One of the other PAs moves towards him and starts up a conversation. I’m stupidly standing here, watching it all play out when he realises and looks at me, stopping mid-sentence for just a beat. Oh shit! The girl talking to him follows his gaze and finds a now red-faced me, who for some insane reason is still looking at them. Look away. Look away! She squints her eyes, shooting daggers in my direction, flicking her long honey streaked hair over her shoulder as she laughs and continues her conversation with Elliot. Is she laughing at me now? Why am I still staring?
Kayley leans in, thankfully snapping my attention back to a safe area. “He’s pretty delicious, huh? The one talking to him is Beth. She’s his PA and thinks she has dibs on him. But every woman here is lusting after the man. He’s divine. Did you see that body? And the hair, the eyes? I could go on.” She sighs happily as we spoon granulated coffee and sugar into our mugs.
“Priya told me there’s a 'no-dating' policy here.”
“That’s only a problem if you get caught,” Albina cuts in, leaning between us to grab a wooden stirrer. “I’d fuck that guy in a heartbeat.” She saunters off with an appreciative growl, and I grin, enjoying her audaciousness but refusing to look at Elliot again. I don’t want to get stuck staring.
Once we’ve added our hot water and milk, we take our drinks to one of the tables and sit down. At our table is Anne, Carl, Albina, Joanne—who prefers to be called ‘Jo’—Kayley and myself. The whole setup feels like a scene from a high school movie with predetermined groups sticking together in the cafeteria.
My new friends seem eager to fill me in on office gossip. I find out that one of the senior partners is going through a nasty divorce and sleeps at the office most nights. And the IT guy is having an affair with one of the admin girls.
“They think no one knows, but they aren’t very good at pretending nothing is happening,” Jo says.
“Yeah. But no one cares enough to report them,” Carl adds. “As long as I never walk in on them fucking in the file room, I don’t give a shit what they do.”
“Fair enough,” I say, taking a mouthful of my coffee.
“Tell us about you, though,” Kaylee says.
“Yes,” Albion’s adds. “What’s your deal? You’re young. Are you still at school? Boyfriend? Family? Tell us everything.”
“My deal?” I sit back, holding the warm mug between both hands and try to decide how much I want to tell them. “There’s not much to me. No boyfriend, I still live at home, and I’m studying a humanities-law degree. Second year.”
“So you want to be one of them?” Carl asks, brows raised as he points to the solicitor retreating out the door.
“I do, but I’ll make sure I’m still kind to the little plebs,” I tease.
“You better,” Kaylee says with a laugh. “You already know too much.”
Chapter 2
Still on for lunch? The message flashes on my screen as I fish it out of my bag. I’ve managed to work steadily since morning tea, feeling like I have a good grasp on what I’m doing. But, the moment lunch hits, I’m ready to get out here. I have plans to meet up with my best friend, David. We’ve known each other since we were nine and have been inseparable ever since. We’re even studying together at Uni. He’s the smartest person I know.
Definitely. Leaving now. 5 mins eta
David is actually the one who had the idea of gaining entry level jobs in law firms before our studies end. His job is a couple of blocks away as a filing clerk, so we get to travel to and from the city together.
Slipping my phone back into my bag, I head for the door, not quite making it to freedom when a grey-haired man blocks my exit and asks me to help him locate a book. It isn’t in the library, so I have to chase it down. In truth, it only takes about ten minutes, but I’m feeling really bummed that I’m running late to meet David.
Got held up. I’m commmmmiiiinnnnngggg!!! I type as I rush towards the lifts.
“Hold the lift,” I yell as the cab doors slide to close. “Wait.” They’re not waiting. I run for it, jumping through the shrinking gap before it gets too small for me to fit through. “Thanks for nothing,” I mutter as I straighten my blouse and check my hair.
“Nice Indiana Jones impersonation,” a deep rumble says. “I think you left your hat out there, though.” I suck in my breath when I discover I’ve jumped in the lift with Elliot. Only Elliot. Will he mention my strange break room staring? God, I hope not. He’s leaning against the side of the cab smiling his sexy and very amused grin. He seems really friendly, a stark contrast to the stoic man I met earlier today.
“Ah,” I say. Because it seems to be the only thing I can manage to say around this guy. I actually look over my shoulder for a moment to make sure he’s really talking to me, and when I look back at him I must look really confused because his brilliant blue eyes dance in amusement.
“Indiana Jones?”
I blink twice. “Who?”
“You don’t know who Indiana Jones is? Harrison Ford? Runs from a boulder and just makes it under a door before it hits him then reaches back for his hat?”
“I haven’t seen it.” I shake my head, and he laughs as he puts his hands on either side of his head like it might explode. I gulp as I notice the curve of his bicep through his shirt.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe you haven’t seen that. Everyone has seen that movie.”
I shrug. “Sorry?” I offer.
He’s still laughing as he shakes his head. “No worries. It's a classic. You should watch it some time.”
“I’ll be sure to put that on my to-do list.”
“You won’t be sorry.” He puts his hands in his pockets and focuses on the numbers as they count towards the ground floor.
Standing close to Elliot, I notice his height. I guess he’s around six-foot-three since he’s a notch above me in my low heels. Gorgeous and tall, I’m practically a puddle at his feet. I can feel my body humming with attraction. I wonder if he is feeling it too while images of him hot, sweaty and naked flash through my mind and make me a little dizzy.
Don’t think like that!
I chastise myself, not wanting to fall prey to my hormones and make a fool of myself when men—any man—should be the last thing on my mind after my previous relationship.
“How’s your first day going?” Elliot’s rumbling baritone invades my thoughts and snaps me to attention.
“Huh? Oh, not too bad,” I answer quickly. “Just trying to find my way around. The layout is a little confusing.”
“It’s not so hard once you realise the office is just a big circle. If you keep going eventually you’ll work out where you are,” he says. The elevator doors chime open and we step outside. “I’ll see you around, Katrina. That was a pretty cool elevator entrance.” He chuckles. “Made my day.” I blush uncontrollably.
He lifts his hand in a wave as he leaves, and I linger back near the elevators, shamelessly watching him walk away until David places his head next to mine.
“Who are we looking at?” he whispers.
I blink away my erotic thoughts of Elliot and turn to David. “Nobody,” I answer coyly.
“Nobody, huh? Wish you looked at me like I was nobody. Wouldn’t mind doing whatever’s making your cheeks all pink like that,” he teases, nudging me in the side. I smile and feel a slight sadness at the same time. Because I know that statement is untrue. David has made it clear on more than one occasion that we can only be friends.
I swat him on the arm to cover up any reaction my face gives away. “Get your mind out of the gutter and come get lunch with me. We've lost fifteen minutes already.”
“As you wish my dear, Trina,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down comically. He takes my arm and links it with his, making me feel like I’m home as I lean against him. We set off across the street to the nearest food court to have a quick chat and an even quicker meal.
Now, David’s usually pretty popular with the ladies. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with through the years. So, it’s no surprise to me that as we walk along, I notice a few girls from my office in the food court looking at him with interest. In my heels, he’s the exact same height as me. He’s pretty easy on the eyes with sandy blond hair and blue eyes that crinkle shut when he smiles his dashingly dimpled smile. Many a girl has fallen prey to that smile of his—even me—and it’s gotten him both in and out of trouble more than once. He’s fairly fit, with a lean, muscular build with broad shoulders and a small waist. Occasionally, he trains with me, always holding his own fitness-wise.
His features are fairly similar to my own, and because of our closeness, we've often been mistaken for brother and sister. That’s second only to being mistaken for a couple. I love everything about David, but becoming a couple is a line we’re unlikely to cross. It saddens me because in a lot of ways, David is my perfect mate. But, he has major commitment issues and tends to have a new girl on his arm every week. I’m more of a longterm relationship kind of girl. Which means neither of us has ever been willing to risk our friendship for the sake of a relationship that probably wouldn’t last and would lose us both the only friend we’ve ever known.
“You gonna tell me about the guy you were perving on before?” he asks, as we sit down and begin to eat.
I roll my eyes, knowing that if I don’t tell David, he’ll tease me mercilessly until I give up the information. “It was Elliot. He's the office ‘hottie’. All the girls are drooling over him.”
“How about you? Are you ‘all the girls’?” he asks, pausing with his burger held in front of him while he waits for my answer.
I shake my head then bounce my shoulders.
“That’s how it looked to me,” he adds, causing me to shift in my chair uncomfortably, not really wanting to talk to him about this topic. But he keeps staring at me, waiting for a response.
Sighing, I relent and answer. “He’s hot, yeah. And I admit that I was perving. But that’s all it was. I'm not going to make a fool of myself going after some guy I can’t have.”
“Trina, you could have absolutely any guy you want,” he comments, and I hold in a scoff. I can’t have you.
“Don’t lie to me.” Maybe that was true at one point in my life, but I’ve never been able to have the guy in front of me. That alone is frustrating enough. I pick up my drink and take a sip from the clear straw.
“I’m not lying.”
“David. Look at me. Look at my scars. Why would anyone be interested in me when there’s an office full of gorgeous girls interested in him? And he hasn’t dated one of them.”
“I am looking at you, Trina. I see you.” He looks at me for a moment, and I get this uncomfortable twisting feeling in my stomach. I hate it when he says things like this; things that are so sweet and meaningful. Things that make me wish he really did see me the way I want him to. I look down with a frown then suddenly, he’s back to normal again. “Maybe he’s gay?”
I clear my throat. “No, I don’t think so. There’s a 'no-dating' policy.”
“That sucks. Where’s the fun in that?”
I laugh at this. “We can’t all be Mister Sex-in-the-filing-room-with-the-receptionist, you know.”
He laughs. “You believe absolutely everything you hear.”
“Are you denying it? I’ve seen you with so many different girls over the years that even I’ve lost count.”
“Hey, I’m all about the pleasure,” he says, with a cocky half grin on his face.
“I don’t know how you get all of those girls to sleep with you. If they knew you like I do, they’d run a mile.”
He shrugs. “You know the real me and you don’t run.”
“That’s because you need me to remind you you’re not all that.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah that’s so,” I tell him, only half-seriously. Truthfully, I think that any girl who can hold David’s interest for more than ten minutes would find herself a very lucky woman. He has the most beautiful heart. He’d die for the people he loves.
He laughs and throws his scrunched up napkin on his tray then looks around the food court, watching people moving around us. I turn my thoughts inward before bringing the subject back to me again.
“All joking aside, David, I still don’t think I’m ready to start dating.”
His face goes sombre as he returns his attention to me. “I know you’re not, baby girl.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry for teasing you about Elliot. I wasn’t thinking.”
I blink back the emotion that’s suddenly prickling the back of my eyes as visions of broken glass dance through my vision.
“It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who needs to let go and move on.” I take a deep breath and put a smile on my face, pulling my hand away from his before I become too comfortable and don’t want to let go. “Besides, a bit of harmless perving on a guy I can’t have seems pretty safe to me.”
David looks at me with an assessing gaze. “You need to stop thinking like that. You’re gorgeous, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.” He clears his throat and pushes his chair back, assuming the usual jovial persona that he likes to present to the world. I feel sure that his mother and myself are the only ones who ever see the serious side of David. Sometimes, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing, because knowing him as I do, understanding his heart and his insecurities, only serves to remind me that he’ll never be mine. He’ll always be too scared to love me. I wonder if I’ll ever be happy knowing that, or if I’ll be stuck like this forever: forever wondering, forever wishing things were different. How do people exist knowing they’ll always have to settle for second best?
“Well,” he says. “I hate to leave the company of a beautiful woman. But, I need to get back.”
There he goes again, calling me ‘beautiful’. I’ve often wondered if I should tell him to stop. Tell him how his flippant words hurt me. But, I don’t do that. To say those words would be admitting I still want more from him than friendship. I tried that once and he friend zoned me so fast I got whiplash. I fear that pushing the point again would only chase him away. And I’m not willing to risk everything we have on that conversation. I can’t imagine my life without David in it. So, I do what I always do and play his comments off as a joke.
“That’s what you say to all the girls,” I respond in a mock sexy voice.
He shrugs and kisses my cheek goodbye before he clears away our trays. “See you on the train?”
“I’ll meet you outside the station.”
He takes two steps away from the table before he seems to remember something and pauses, spinning slightly on his heels before facing me again. That’s when I notice something.
“Are you wearing hi-tops?” I ask, surprised to see them sticking out of the bottom of a pair of dark grey dress pants.
He gives me a half smile that shows his dimple on one side. “What can I say? They’re comfy.”
“You look like you secretly play basketball in the filing room.”
He winks. “Busted. But, I wanted to ask you; you wanna hit the town Friday night? We haven’t been out in the city for ages.” Actually, we haven’t been out since well before my accident. I haven’t felt like partying. But maybe it’s time I tried to get out there again and have some fun.
“I do, but I have to go to drinks at work for a bit beforehand. The social committee chick was pressuring me, so it seems pretty important. I’ll have a drink there and then meet up with you, OK?”
“Sure, I’ll message you where to meet me.”
“Sounds good,” I say, standing to leave myself. We hug goodbye, giving each other another cheek kiss before we head back to our respective jobs.
* * *
The lift is more crowded on my way back up to the office. The snooty receptionist is in there with Elliot’s PA, Beth, as well as maybe ten other people.
“Katrina, is it?” the receptionist asks. “Was that your boyfriend I saw you having lunch with? He’s hot.”
I frown and look at her, not understanding how we went from frosty glares, to questions about my personal life so quickly. I don’t even know her name.
Taking my frown for incomprehension, she repeats herself slowly. “I said: was… that… your… boyfriend?”
“I heard you,” I reply. “I’m just not clear on why you’re asking me.”
She narrows her eyes and purses her lips, exchanging glances with Beth. Beth smiles charmingly. In her stiletto heels, she’s half a head shorter than I am. Her skin is so creamy and flawless that she looks like a porcelain doll with large hazel eyes, full lips and a heart-shaped face. My pores feel enormous just looking at her. She’s dressed impeccably and has a very slim build, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine.
“Let’s try this again,” she says with a giggle. “I’m Beth, and this is Bianca.” She holds out her hand to shake mine, and I reluctantly take it.
“Katrina,” I say coolly, not at all comfortable in this situation.
“I’m Elliot’s PA, and Bianca, as you probably already know, is the receptionist.”
I nod, confirming I did, indeed, already know.
“Forgive, Bianca. She just saw you with a gorgeous guy at lunch time, and we’re debating over whether he’s family or a friend. I said family, but Bianca was picking up boyfriend vibes. No harm intended.”
“I’m sure,” I say warily. There’s something about these two that set my internal alarms off. I don’t like them.
“So, which is it?” Beth pushes.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Oh, so he’s your brother?” Bianca probes.
“Why is this so important to you?” I ask, willing the lift to travel faster so I can escape this conversation.
“Just curious. He’s a good-looking guy. I want to know if he’s fair game,” she says, challenging me with her eyes.
I narrow my eyes a little. “He’s not my brother or my boyfriend, and I don’t discuss his ‘game'. It's none of my business.”
Beth and Bianca once again exchange glances as the elevator opens, and I’m granted the freedom to walk straight back to my desk instead of continuing a conversation with those two.
I’m not stupid. I knew Bianca was interested in David the moment she started asking. Every fucking girl I’ve ever met seems to be interested in David. And I don’t want to know about it. I’m not his pimp, and I don’t do matchmaking. He’s always been perfectly capable of finding girls on his own. He doesn’t need me.
I let out an exasperated sigh as I plonk down onto my chair and wiggle my mouse to wake up the computer screen. I’m happy to move on from the elevator interrogation, to checking my emails and sorting through my 'in' tray again. But it’s hard. Girls like that always seem to make their way into my life. It’s like they can’t stand that a man like David would want to waste his time on a girl like me. It’s why I don’t have any girlfriends—they always manage to make me feel like we are competing for David’s affection. Boyfriends on my side aren’t any easier. They get competitive and jealous and someone always ends up bleeding on the floor.
In the eleven years we’ve been friends, David and I have never managed to find that delicate balance between our friendship and external relationships. We try, but so far all we’ve managed to do is hurt people—ourselves included. That’s why it’s better if we keep things simple. He and I can have our friendship, and everything else is…separate. For a longterm relationship girl like me, it’s a difficult situation to be in. But until I find a guy who isn’t threatened by my friendship with David, it’s the way it has to be. David and I are for life. We bled for each other. No one is coming between that.
