Music on, world off. My earbuds mask the idle Monday morning chatter while I dive into work. I arrive at my desk early for two reasons today. One is to play catch up on everything I missed Friday; but two, and more important, I don’t want to deal with the grand inquisition from Jared. Hoping he’ll ignore me and sit at his own desk when he arrives in a few minutes is a long shot, but my heart of stone should deflect his chit chat. Or at the bare minimum, he’ll have the decency to let me lick my wounds alone.
Because if Friday’s fail wasn’t bad enough, reliving it aloud to all my co-workers is bound to be epically worse. If it weren’t for the looming deadline of Project X, I’d have called in sick today and continued hiding out in my apartment.
Oh right, and there’s that. I can no longer will myself to leave my apartment alone.
I’m an independent woman in the twenty-first century who’s lived on my own for the past ten years. I take myself out to brunch at least once a month and use public transit to get around the city on a daily basis. But since Friday’s run in, I’m suddenly crippled by all these what if’s. I hate feeling so helpless, but I can’t stop replaying how it felt when that drunk douchebag from the bar put his hand on my ass. Crazy as it sounds, I didn’t go outside my apartment the entire weekend.
Part of that was due to a massive hangover and an overall need to hide after watching Rae and Violet’s Instagram posts chronicling their fun both on and off set with a group of TWD actors. I wasn’t ready to face anyone, and I couldn’t get over how a stranger had no qualms about touching me, aggressively and sexually, in a public place where I should have been safe.
The entire experience has me re-evaluating the false pretense of security I’ve built in my psyche, and in its place I’m left with an irrational fear of being out on my own. Thank God for my neighbor, Dave. This morning I perched just inside my door and stared out my peephole until he stepped out of his apartment across the hall. I quickly followed so I could ride the elevator with someone I knew. So I’d feel safe.
Once I made it outside into the morning rush of fellow commuters and my daily routine, the fear faded to a level of anxiety I could deal with. Even now sitting at my desk, Rage Against the Machine screams into my ears as my fingers fly across the keyboard. The tempo fuels the anger building inside and justifies my sudden feelings of weakness and insecurity. My fingertips beat down against the keys to match the aggression in the music. Maybe I should switch my playlist to something soothing, maybe country or a classical symphony so I don’t snap at my co-workers in our staff meeting later. Before I can change the music, my headphones are yanked off my ears and I jump in my chair with surprise.
Jared’s smiling lips mash together. “Morning, sunshine.” He holds my headphones as he leans against my desk.
I narrow my gaze and snag them back. “Fuck off, Jared.”
“Hey, don’t be like that. Where were you all weekend? I called and swung by, but you didn’t answer.”
“Nursing my hangover from hell. You should get to work.” I glance down at my phone. “You’re seven minutes late. I need you to look at the changes proposed for level seven—”
“So, sulking then?” He cuts me off as I stick one of the buds in my left ear.
“No.” I bristle with the accurate accusation.
“Mmm hmm.” His lips pull up with the threat of a smile, but I’m not in the mood to play nice.
I tilt my gaze away from my friend and back to the computer screen. “You don’t know me,” I grumble but the words taste bitter and all too reminiscent of what the hot bouncer said to me Friday night.
“You okay, Mia? For real?” He reaches out to place a hand on my arm and I finally lift my gaze. His worried frown etches lines into his otherwise perfect brow. He’s only concerned and I’m being a jerk. I can’t help pushing when feelings are concerned though, and my stare goes back to my work.
“I’m okay.” But I’m not.
Even now the code on the screen before me blurs with the racing of my pulse, and my vision spots the way it does every time I remember Friday night. Deep breath in, slow breath out. I don’t chance a look to my right. I can feel Jared’s stare. Calculating and assessing to make sure I truly mean what I say. After a few minutes he must agree or relent because within my peripheral sight I notice him leave and drop down behind his cubical wall.
Shaking my head to clear the distractions, I get back to what I can control. Immersing myself in work for the next few hours, I don’t pay attention to my co-workers around me. The challenge and pace of my work settles the chaos of my brain. I can’t worry. Or obsess. Or overthink my fears. I only work, and it’s far better than any therapy money can buy. I’d guess, anyway.
A throat clears behind me and I practically jump in my chair. “What the hell!”
“I’m sorry about what happened Friday,” Jared says as I spin in my chair to meet his stare.
“God, don’t apologize for that man.”
“I mean everything. It was all wrong. And nothing good happens when you mix Jack Daniel’s after ten o’clock.”
“Is that so?”
“True story. Here.” He holds out his peace offering, a cup of steaming coffee.
Bringing the paper mug to my lips, I inhale the heavenly aroma before taking a sip. Jared is my ride or die. He gets me, always. Knows what I need—whether it’s a good laugh, a come to Jesus talk, or simply a cup of overpriced coffee. Just the way I like it, heavy on the sugar and cream.
“Hey, we’re still on for this weekend?”
The Walking Dead marathon party. Something we’ve been looking forward to since last year’s. An all-day event hosted by my favorite comic book store in a bar next door. We gather with other Walkers, dressed in character of course, to re-watch last season in anticipation of the next one starting. Only the anxiety in my gut crawls with the thought of repeating so many of the same actions from this past weekend. Cosplay. Riding the train downtown. Hanging out in a crowded bar. Handsy assholes without respect for women or homosexuals. I don’t cower from challenge, but the prospect makes me queasy.
“Mia?”
“Sorry. Yeah. Of course. Sure.”
“What’s with you?”
Exhaling the air in my lungs, I shake my head and decide to suck it up and be truthful. This is Jared, after all. “Don’t you feel . . . I don’t know.” My gaze finds his and I chicken out. “Never mind.”
His lips pinch together and he raises one eyebrow. “What?”
“Violated?”
He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “After what that jerk said? No. But I’m pissed as hell he put his hands on you.”
I set my coffee on my desk and stand to better meet his stare. He’s got to understand how wrong things could have gone on Friday, but he’s not acting at all like a person who’s scared to ever leave his apartment. No, that would be me. “He would have beat the shit out of you. I’m almost sure of it. If it weren’t for that bouncer . . .”
“Mia. What’s really going on?” He reaches out and grasps one of my hands in his.
“It’s just after what that cop said. That I should watch how I dress.”
His brow narrows. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you think she was right!”
“No. But let’s just say I’m more than a little gun shy to do it all again. I felt so underprepared. Helpless, you know?”
“That I can understand.” He winks and squeezes my hand before dropping it to retrieve my coffee cup and place it back in my grip.
“Gee, thanks.” I roll my eyes, which only causes his smirk to grow.
“So, do something about it.” He shrugs.
If only it were so simple. “Like what?” I roll my eyes and bring my coffee to my lips, sipping the still warm liquid.
Jared glances around the office and chews at the inside of his cheek. His gaze snaps back to mine and his eyes widen with delight. “What about taking a self-defense class?”
Huh. I tilt my head and consider the possibility. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“I don’t understand why you seem so surprised. I’m brilliantly smart at least fifty percent of the time.”
The business card from the hot and maybe-not-completely-the-asshole-I-first-thought-he-was-bouncer is tucked safely inside my purse. I should have thrown it away but I didn’t. However, I’ve had the good sense to not even look at it before now. Not even once. Probably because I don’t trust myself to not take whatever info is on there and stalk him madly. Like some crazy ass chick with no self-restraint who only wants to get well acquainted with his nether regions since there’d be no other reason to connect. But now . . . Maybe I should see if he teaches self-defense. He did say he was an instructor.
“Earth to Mia?”
“Sorry.” My face heats with the image of Matt caging me in with his powerful arms and whispering directions into my ear right before he pins me to a bed.
Jared’s chuckle washes away my daydream. “You’re having naughty thoughts.”
“Am not!” I practically shout, drawing unwanted attention from nearby co-workers.
Jared’s lips pull wide with a conspiratorial grin and he steps closer to drop his voice. “You so are. Who is he? The new guy from marketing? A little young for you, but he’s got nice lips.”
“No. No one from work.” I shake my head.
He bumps my shoulder with his. “Damn, girl. Dish. I need to know who’s fulfilling your fantasies mid-conversation with me. What’s his name?”
“What’s going on?” Nick from accounting, like the slimeball snake he is, appears from behind my cubical wall. Resting his arms across the top, his eyes light up with interest. “Who we talking about?”
“Go away, Nick,” I bite out, not even a little nice.
His grin pulls with his smile and he nods his head. “Oh, I see how it is. This some top secret design meeting?” Clueless. Completely oblivious to how much we despise him.
Before I can open my mouth with a smartass retort, Jared interjects. “Yep. That’s it. If we have budget issues, we’ll call you over.”
Nick winks before backing away and walking over to the breakroom. I glance at my watch and realize it’s almost time for lunch. The day is already blowing by.
“God, he’s so annoying,” I mutter under my breath.
“Such a dick,” Jared agrees.
“And the perfect reminder why I keep my fantasies restricted to those of the fictional variety.” My hands go to Jared’s shoulders and I scoot him out of my cubicle. “Time to get back to work, mister. We have another thirty minutes before lunch.”
“Whatever you say, Kitten,” he calls over his shoulder.
But once Jared’s sitting in his cubicle, I drag my purse out from the bottom drawer of my desk and retrieve the card that’s quickly burning a hole in my mind. South Side Gym. Hmm . . . That sounds promising. The address is only a few blocks from here. I slide the card beneath my cell phone so I don’t forget to look up the website during my lunch break. Who am I kidding? There’s no chance I’ll be able to wait until then. Chancing a quick glance over each shoulder, I pull up a new window on my web browser and type in the address. Within moments, I’m rewarded with pixelated images of that same hunk of a man from Friday’s bar-tastrophy.
Maybe I’ll stop by after work. But only if I have time.
Yeah, right. I know damn well that’s exactly where I’ll be heading the minute the clock strikes six.