Another day at the offices of Horowitz and Chao concludes unceremoniously. This place really does suck the life out of a person. Me, at least. I don’t understand how there are people here who have been here for almost a decade and have yet to run out of the office for good one day, never to be seen or heard from again.

 

One of the few things that make the day bearable is getting to chat with my favorite co-workers on the way out of the labyrinthine hallways. Lyssa and her friend Suzanne usually join me on our walk out. After having a hell of a “best friend” in Brittany, I’ve enjoyed hanging out with Lyssa and Suzy, my new friends, who seem much more real and good than Brittany ever did. Today, they seem to be less than enthused about meeting me though.

 

“What’s going on?” I ask.

 

They're very hesitant to answer me, making me feel a bit uneasy and question whether or not I even want to know.

 

Lyssa finally answers. “It’s Scott. He’s been calling all day apparently, looking for Brittany.”

 

“What, is she ignoring him or something?” I ponder aloud.

 

Suzanne answers me this time. “Actually, she didn’t show up to work today.”

 

Cheaters tend to attract cheaters. And considering how Brittany acted when she first met Liam, I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think that while Scott is worrying about where she is, she’s having one or many alpha male type guys deep inside of her, filling her holes with some warm, white fluids, in a way that non- alpha male type Scott really can’t. It’s one of Scott’s biggest fears, I’m sure. When I voice this theory to Lyssa and Suzanne, they laugh but say they’re pretty sure that I’m not too far off.

 

When we turn the corner to the lobby, we’re stopped by Scott himself. He’s a mess. He’s clearly spent the last few hours crying, smells as though as he hasn’t showered, and his clothes look so ill-fitting on him, not to mention downright mix-matched, that it’s obvious that he just put on whatever clothes were nearest to him before heading out.

 

“You two bitches,” he says, referring to Lyssa and Suzanne, “Go home. Hazel and I need to talk."

 

“Scott!” I chastise him, but Lyssa and Suzanne are already skedaddling out of there, apparently not caring what kind of insulting name he just called them.
 

I can’t blame them for getting the heck out of here since the situation seems sure to be volatile, but I do wish they hadn’t left me alone with him. I know they thought I’d follow them, which would be the wise thing to do, but I can’t seem to stop watching the train wreck which is Scott breaking down in front of me.

 

“Where is Brittany?” Scott demands.

 

“How in the hell should I know?” I sneer at him.

 

“You two are best friends! You have to know where she is,” he hisses.

 

I scoff at him. He’s in worse shape than I thought, and that’s saying a lot. “Scott Withers, where have you been for the last seven months? Brittany and I haven’t been friends since I caught you fucking her on my desk!”

 

The fact that I just reminded him of our breakup sends him somewhere dark. “Listen, you fat cunt. You tell me where Brittany is or I’m telling everyone in this office about your sham engagement.”

 

He roars laughter like some sort of mad scientist and then gets closer to me. “They don’t know, do they? I wonder why that would be. Wouldn’t you make a big announcement to the office or ask for vacation time for when the wedding is?”

 

I stutter as I try to explain myself. “We haven’t picked out a date yet s-s-s-o—”

 

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he whispers sharply. “I know how you females are. The second a guy proposes, all you can think about is having your little fairy tale wedding. But not you, Hazel? You're the one woman on Earth who hasn’t bored everyone to death going on about how perfect your wedding is going to be? Or how beautiful you're going to look splitting the seams of a dress that’s too small for you?”

 

He’s worse than Brittany. Brittany will go behind my back to hurt me, or make snide passive aggressive or snotty remarks to bully me, but Scott has clearly lost it. He’s saying everything he knows will hurt me. And he doesn’t stop there.

 

“I bet you haven’t even told anyone about your precious Liam,” he continues. “I gotta know. Is he a gigolo? Some guy from Craigslist? How much are you paying him to act as if you’re not out of his league? I’ve actually been wondering how many actually attractive chicks he has to fuck to get the thought of kissing you out of his head. I mean, he probably gets some fine ass. I’m not gay, but I know a hot dude when I see one. And he’s much too hot to be with someone like you.”

 

Tears start to well up in my eyes. I can’t fight it. I’ve never thought about it, but I’ve been cheated on once. Isn’t it entirely possible that Liam could be seeing someone other than me when I’m at work?

 

“Hazel, look, I’ve been thinking about it. Brittany is a big fucking whore. And even with that said, I think you're better at fucking. And sucking. Brittany lets me fuck her in the ass, but that can’t compare to how good your mouth feels. Let’s fool around. Dump that Liam guy. It’s fucked up that you're still making him hang out with you. You got Brittany to buy your bullshit, isn’t that all you needed him for?”

 

I no longer know what to think. Scott is angry and irrational right now and I know I shouldn’t listen to a word he says. But he’s always known how to push my buttons and he’s gone right for my insecurities. I’ve only known Liam for under two weeks, so, I really don’t know much about him.  

 

Scott goes on to ride this train of thought further. “He’s just playing a part. A part he’s clearly tired of playing. It’s obvious. He even mentioned it at the party. He told me that being with you has been a lot to handle. Who knows if he’s talking about your weight or personality, but that’s what he said.”

 

“When?” I ask, although I know I shouldn’t listen to a word he’s saying.

 

“When you were in the bathroom,” he says, triumphantly.

 

He’s only trying to hurt me, I know this, but there’s something about what he’s saying that could have some truth to it. And the fact that he’s reciting something he’s saying Liam said at the party makes me question this further.

 

If I recall correctly, there was a time when Liam and Scott were talking near the fridge in the kitchen, until I came out of the bathroom and Liam and I left the party. There aren’t a lot of ways one could misinterpret the phrase “she’s been a lot to handle.” After everything I’d been through, the last thought I want running through my head is that I’ve wasted time getting involved with an Irish hunk who could be going all around New York, having sex with every woman he runs into in coffee shops.

 

“Leave me alone, Scott,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going home.”

 

I push him out of my way and shoot out through the double doors at the front of the building. I hear Scott following me closely, but decide to just ignore him. His footsteps echo mine as I hurry to the subway station until I run into, who else, Liam.

 

“Hey, hon,” he says warmly, as he moves towards me. “Thought I’d surprise ya. How would you like to—”

 

He stops talking as he notices Scott coming up behind me. However, when Scott notices Liam, he quickly scurries away in the other direction without saying a word. He’s always been such a wimp. He can hurt me but take off when confronted by a bigger man.

 

Baffled by the tears now streaming down my face and the appearance/disappearance of Scott, Liam grabs me by the arms and asks me what’s going on. Nothing can stop my flow of emotions now.

 

“You don’t have to be with me if you’re not interested in anything but sex.”

 

He seems baffled by my statement, but I continue. “You don’t have to keep seeing me if you don’t want. I just needed you for the coffee shop. That’s it. The party was your idea.”

 

I try to head into the subway station, but he blocks the entrance. “What in the bloody hell has gotten into you, Hazel? What do you mean I don’t have to keep seeing you?”

 

“You don’t have to keep pretending that you like me,” I shout at him. “You can do much better. And you probably already are. I get that this is just another acting job for you.”

 

Liam is so taken aback by my claim that I’m able to push past him and get into station. I hurriedly run down the steps and to a waiting train.

 

I want to tell him it’s over, but there’s no way I’ll be able to do that with all the tears running down my face and a strong flow of mucus following very closely behind.

 

I can’t text him. Call him. Or see him. But if he seeks me out further, I’ll tell him then and there. I can’t go on like this. I was an idiot for falling for him.