Rough [H.S.]

two.

I'm getting laid too much, she says I've got the touch, she says let's go again but this time more rough.
Song: I'm Having Too Much Sex Blues by Netherfriends

Late June

I looked at the clock on the wall. The second hand was moving slower than molasses. Holding my head up with my hand, I continued to stare at the clock, willing the seconds to pass faster which of course, they did not.

I was currently 3 hours into my 5-hour shift at my dad's law office and was hating it. The job was the most boring, mundane thing I had ever done in my life. Answer phones, make copies, file away reports...In all actuality, I found everything to do with law to be extremely boring, however my father was insistent that if I just gave it a shot, I would fall in love with the ins and outs of the legal system, switch my major to pre-law, transfer to Yale, and become a real estate lawyer just like him. Thus, here I was, spending my summer at the law offices of Wilson, McGinnis, and Rone, wishing I was literally anywhere else in the world.

Just as I was about to die from wallowing in my own self-pity, I heard my phone buzz next to me. Picking it up, I saw a text from a number I didn't recognize but the message gave the sender away immediately.

Unknown: Hey there, princess

My heart raced as I stared at the message. I hadn't heard from Harry since our little tryst in the clubhouse. That had been three weeks ago, not that I was keeping track or anything. I hadn't really expected to hear from him, especially after that first week went by with nothing but radio silence. After our encounter, he had alluded to the fact that we might hook up again, but we hadn't even exchanged phone numbers and when I never heard from him, I did really think much of it. After all, he had been a major dick the entire morning and he seemed like the type of asshole who would fuck and run.

I studied the message for a few more minutes, contemplating how to respond.

Hi? Too simple. What do you want? Too aggressive. Who is this? No, I can't play dumb. He called me princess so I would know immediately who he was. Fuck.

Tapping out a reply, I hit send before I could back out.

Hey, Harry. How'd you get my number?

I watched my phone nervously as the three texting dots appeared immediately. He had been waiting for me to respond.

H: I have my ways. What are you doing?

Like right now? I'm working.

Fuck this job.

H: Ah yes, daddy's law office. When do you get off?

I'm sure his grandfather had told him that I worked here but I decided to deflect his question momentarily.

What, are you stalking me now?

He continued to respond immediately.

H: Don't play stupid, you know how I know where you work and also how I got your phone number. Now, I'll ask again. What time do you get off?

Jesus, he was such a fucking asshole. Here I was, attempting to engage in a little flirtatious texting with him and true to his character, he was a massive dick about it. He was a walking red flag and anyone in their right mind would immediately run the other direction. And then there was me, quickly typing out a response so as not to displease him too much.

I get off at 5.

I waited to see the texting dots but they didn't appear right away. In fact, Harry didn't respond for another hour. Part of me assumed it was all part of his strange cat and mouse game he was creating to ensure that he had the upper hand. And as much as I didn't want to be, I was already caught up in the game.