It’s Friday and I have never been so happy to see the back of a working week. Sunday night was a complete write-off. Instead of an early night to set me up for a good Monday morning, I drank until the numbness took over my body and my mind. Until I couldn’t feel, until I couldn’t remember, until darkness was my only companion. I made sure that I would feel so shitty every time I thought of Sasha, there would be nothing but bile and revulsion, because anything before that was a fantasy land, and I need reality. I need it quick. I need it to hurt, I need it to be honest with myself, and more importantly, I need it to be happy.

Monday arrived with a vengeance. Physically, I welcomed the fog. It provided a temporary relief from how shattered and destroyed I felt on the inside, but my brain had to work overtime to compensate for the sluggishness. Especially when an email lands into your inbox before you’ve had your morning coffee telling you your whole site and program is being audited.

The whole process is equivalent to getting all your teeth pulled out. Working with teenagers as a youth worker has been my calling for as long as I can remember. There’s something so fulfilling about being able to help someone who would otherwise fall in between the cracks, and not in a self-righteous way, but more in the privilege of watching someone so vulnerable accept help and want to do better for themselves. Even if they don’t know how important those first simple steps will be in their future, it’s the effort that is life-changing. That’s why I do this job. It’s the one thing that makes the paperwork, the politics, and all the injustices, worth it.

Governed by the Department of Youth and Community Services they always love to surprise us with random file checks. Especially when we’re in the process of requesting funding for our program to be extended for another three years. Every single kid has a file, more than three hundred clients, and every encounter documented. It’s probably our fault they’re not always up to date, but you always think you have time, and before you know it, time’s up. So, it’s been a crazy week, and I’ve earned the right to a drink, but after Sunday night, I don’t think that’s the answer.

What I do think will have my week ending on a high, is Taylah. I didn’t think she’d come through, and after a heated discussion with Jagger at footy practice, I was pretty sure my life would be made up of fleeting moments where I wondered where she was or what she was doing.

Repeating his earlier sentiments about fucking around with Emerson’s friend, he decided to remind me of the lifetime load of baggage I have with Sasha. Like I could forget. And even if there was a moment I did, the universe is ready to shove it right back in my face.

Not even forty-eight hours since our first text and she’s got me in a constant state of arousal. Every second message is laced with sexual tension, every other one is me asking when she’s free.

I want to fuck her. More than once. And if there’s any way I can make it happen, I will.

Leaving the office a little later than everyone else, I climb into my car and call her number. It’s the end of the week, and I’ve got energy to burn.

Four long rings pass before her a muffled voice answers the call. “Hello.”

“Taylah?”

“Hold on a second.”

“Hey.” With the background hustle fading into nothing, her voice comes through much clearer. “Sorry about that, I just had to find somewhere quieter.”

“Where are you?”

“Central Station. Just waiting for the train home.”

My eyes flick to the clock on my dashboard. “Overtime?”

“Ha,” she scoffs. “Is it still called overtime if you don’t get paid? I don’t usually get out any earlier than seven, but when the words on all my paperwork began to blend with one another, I decided I’d had enough.”

“Week from hell?”

“How did you know?”

“Must be the season.” The conversation goes silent, and I can’t pick whether she’s uncomfortable or shy, but I proceed to get to the bottom of it anyway. “So, I was calling because I thought we could upgrade from the texting. Maybe have dinner, and you can tell me about the week from hell.”

The pitch in her voice rises. “You want to eat dinner?”

“Well, everyone’s got to eat.”

“Right.”

Shutting down the conversation for I second time, I figure I’ve got nothing to lose by pressing her to tell me what’s got her so tongue-tied. “Taylah. Just spit it out.”

“I thought this was just sex.”

I laugh, grateful her unfiltered mouth is back. “Can I not feed you first?”

“I’m not opposed to it, it just wasn’t what I was expecting.” The sound of the train conductor announcing the next train interrupts her explanation.

“Care to share what you were expecting?”

“I don’t know, less clothes.” She pauses. “Dinner seems kinda intimate.”

“Intimate? Crazy, intimate is when my face is pressed up against your pussy. This is just food.”

“Fuck. Drix,” she hisses.

“What? You don’t want to tease me right back like you have been every night.”

“Let’s just say you’re lucky there’s a platform full of people standing around me right now.”

“Is that right?”

“Don’t underestimate what I’ve got stashed up my sleeve.”

“My dick’s hard just thinking about the possibilities.”

“And people say I’m the one who doesn’t think before I talk.”

“I can’t help it, you seem to be rubbing off on me.”

“And I am not walking into that one.”

“Seriously.” Putting our bold and brash conversation on hiatus, I try and convince her once and for all to meet up with me. “Let me pick you up from the station. We can go somewhere close and talk about work. Keep it light. Keep it casual.”

“I can do that. I’ll just text you the time the train pulls up, and where the easiest place to meet is.”

Relieved she isn’t shutting me down, I happily oblige.

Crazy: Train arrives at Meadowbank Station at 7:26. I’ll be at the Thai restaurant directly across the road by 7:30. See you soon

The drive to Meadowbank isn’t quick. Arriving five minutes late, I walk in and spot her sitting cosily in a corner booth. Just as I’m about to reach her, the waiter slides in beside her, catching us both off guard. Blonde, blue-eyed and slightly shorter than me, his lean frame angles into her. Annoyed that he’s eating into my time with her, I walk a little faster, hoping to catch her attention. Unfortunately for him, he notices me first, taking it as his cue to swiftly slide himself away from her.

As he moves, her gaze follows, green eyes settling on mine. She offers me a coy smile and the smallest wave. While the confidence fuelled side of her personality is intoxicating, nervous Taylah is an alluring rarity.

She stands to greet me, and I enjoy the sexiness of her corporate outfit. From head to toe, I admire the curve of her breasts, peeking through her elegantly unbuttoned shirt, and accentuated by her high-waisted skirt. Down to her tight arse and toned legs, her heels are a wonderful addition to my own little fantasy.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Pressing my hand to the small of her back, I lean in and kiss her cheek.

“That’s okay. I had company.”

“I noticed,” I say, turning my head in the direction of the waiter. “I bet you can’t go anywhere without someone trying to hit on you.”

“It doesn't happen that often.” Her eyes veer off to the side, proof she's lying.

I catch her chin between my fingers and bring her eyes back to mine. “I call bullshit.”

Her shoulders lift in a slight shrug, as she takes her seat back in the booth. The same waiter comes back with menus, nodding at me with a tight, and unimpressed smile as he hands it to me.

“What's good here?” I ask, blatantly ignoring him.

“I usually get a Prawn Pad Thai, covered in peanut sauce.”

”Sounds good.” I push the menu away without even giving it a second glance. “I'll get that then.”

“Are you sure? I kinda put that dish together, and it’s not really for everyone.”

“I'll take my chances.” The guy from earlier returns, pen behind his ear, and notebook in his hand. “Do you want me to order the same for you?”

“No.” She waves her hand in front of her and then addresses the waiter. “I would like a bowl of Tom Yum soup, please.” Her face turns back to me. “I had a really late lunch at work.”

“No problem.” Collecting the menus, I interrupt his continual appraisal of Taylah and rudely shove them under his nose. “Thanks. We’re done here.”

“I’m right here,” I say, shaking my head. “Could he be any more obvious?”

“Excuse me,” she says, the sass returning to the tone of her voice. “He can look all he wants, we’re not together.”

“Right now, we are.” Wanting to attach myself to her in any way possible, I’m unfamiliar with the sense of competition and jealousy coursing through me. She’s not mine, and I’m not hers, but the frustration and need building in the middle of my chest to have her, hints otherwise. “Why don’t you tell me about your week from hell. I bet you mine rivals it.”

“No,” she groans. “I don’t want to talk about it yet. You tell me yours.”

“Well. Wait, do you know what I do?” I ask, realising the sense of familiarity between us doesn’t actually mean we know a lot about one another.

“Jagger and Emerson have mentioned it.”

“How nice of them,” I say sarcastically. “Do they talk about me often?

She shakes her head while twisting an invisible key at the seam of her mouth, insinuating her lips are sealed.

“Whatever.” I put my hands up in defeat. “I don’t care anyway.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” she teases. “Now stop stalling and tell me what happened at work.”

“It’s not that exciting,” I start. “But we’re getting audited at the end of this month, which is a pain, but it’s almost impossible finalising all the paperwork when I’ve spent all my extra hours making sure my clients are staying out of trouble.”

“I fucking hate when they spring that shit on you,” she says in understanding. “Expecting it all to be up to date because your job only consists of paperwork.”

“Every time it happens, I tell myself to be more up to date so I don’t go through the same shit next audit. But alas, I’m really talented at being extremely unorganised.”

“It’s definitely one of the shit sides of the job.” She pulls a laptop bag in the air and points to it. “That’s the reason I’m not staying back every night, I’m taking it home with me.”

We sit through a meal, and order dessert, talking about all the things we love and hate about our jobs. I knew what she did for a living, but I forgot how close our circles ran.

I also didn’t realise how much I like hearing her talk. About anything.

Specialising in family law, she knows all about the type of children I work with, where they come from and how hard the system has to work to make sure they don’t get lost. In turn, I know how hard it is to be responsible for visitation rights, kids without parents and parents losing their kids.

It’s a constant battle between wanting to save everyone and not being able to save anyone.

“Do you ever think you’ll leave Legal Aid and go private?”

She skates her top teeth across her bottom lip as she mulls over my question. “I never say never, but right now, I’m happy and content. I get to have all the things I want for my life while doing something worthwhile for somebody else’s.”

The conversation hasn’t turned to sex once, and I find myself enthralled, wanting to learn all the things about her. How empathetic she is. How much she has to give, how little she feels she needs to take.

A loud yawn leaves her mouth, and she rushes to cover it. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“Some days my inner old lady shows, and my body wants to be in bed by nine pm.”

“Let’s call it a night.”

Apologetic eyes stare at me, and I feel compelled to clarify that being attracted to her doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good meal and great conversation. And if I’m honest, I think I needed this more.

“Taylah.” I place my hand over hers, keeping her focus on me. “Thank you for light and casual.”

“The food and company were pretty great, weren’t they?”

I stare at her, because I don’t want to look anywhere else. My eyes travel over every part of her, grateful the night took this turn. “Can we do this again some time?”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my schedule.”

My phone rings, ruining the moment, and Sasha’s name appears on the screen, adding salt to our wounds. I don’t know how Taylah feels about Sasha, but I know she isn’t stupid. There isn’t a moment I can have without a reminder of her, and any progress we made just left the building.

She drags her hand from under mine. “You better get that.”

“It’s probably Dakota,” I throw out, looking for a plausible excuse. “She sometimes calls off her mum’s phone.”

“Sure.”

I’ve lost her.

Years of habit mean I can’t let it ring out. “Hello.”

“Uncle Drix.”

A large exhale leaves my body, as Dakota’s voice answers instead of Sasha’s “Kid, what’s wrong with your own phone?”

“I went over my data plan, so I’m trying to save money.”

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” I try to get Taylah’s attention, but she looks everywhere but me. “What’s up?”

“I’m just checking you’re coming tomorrow.”

“Of course I’m coming, when do I not show up.”

“Never. I just like to check in.”

“We’re all going to be there,” I assure her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good. What are you up to tonight?”

“I’m having dinner with a friend.” Taylah’s body stills at my response. “I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll see you bright and early. Get some sleep.”

My favourite waiter brings the bill placing it in front of Taylah. She opens it, and slips her credit card in, just as I wrap up the phone call.

“Love you, Uncle Drix.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

I drop the phone on the table with a thud, and take hold of her credit card, handing it back to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Paying for dinner?”

Dragging my wallet out of my back pocket, I throw some cash in the leather holder and wait to hand it back to the waiter myself.

“I could’ve paid.”

“I know.”

“Dakota okay?” she asks, giving in to curiosity.

“She wanted to make sure I was going to make it to her soccer game tomorrow.”

“She plays soccer?”

“She does every extracurricular activity her school has.” I beam with pride at the beautiful young woman she’s growing up to be.

“Do you always watch her?”

I nod, because it’s the truth. Anything she has ever needed I’ve made sure she has.

“You treat her as if she’s your own.” It’s an observation. One that scratches the surface of my deepest secrets. One that needs no confirmation from me. “You’re a good man Drix,”

Unable to meet her eyes, I look down at the table. “I try.”