Valerie

9 - Val

TW: sexual harrassment

'having a go' = Complaining, threatening or telling off another person.

'loo' = toilet

'bellend' = tip of the penis but is used as an insult

"Val, start setting the tables for the guests, they'll be here in about two hours." I nodded at my supervisor and made a beeline for the dining area, getting to work. 

It was Saturday and I was working at some sort of posh birthday event. My back was aching and my head was throbbing from lack of sleep but I needed the money so I got up to work. 

I hadn't been sleeping all that well since that phone call with my brother and I knew that it would be any day now before he called me again. This thought alone made me queasy but I pushed the unsettling thoughts away and carried on laying the tables.

There was about twenty or so tables of ten in this massive hall, in this multi-layered penthouse in the Upper East Side. 

In all of my eighteen years, I had never seen wealth quite like this. Sure, Mable was loaded, but her family's money had nothing on this one's. 

Frequently, I caught myself gaping at the high ceilings, floor to ceiling windows and the view. God, the view was magnificent. From up here, you could see the whole of Central Park. 

I was practically salivating with envy. 

I wanted to know what kind of business whoever lived here was in and even considered discarding my dream to become a screenplay writer just to afford a view like this. 

Before I knew it, all twenty tables were set and an hour had gone by. I was straightening a chair when I heard a masculine voice say, "Valerie?" I froze, mid movement, my back still bent over the chair. There was only one person that called me Valerie.

I had successfully managed to avoid Thomas since he apologised to me as I needed to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't as much of an asshole as my head had made him out to be. In fact, from what he said and how he apologised, he was quite the opposite. 

I knew I couldn't ignore him any longer so I put on a brave face and turned slowly to face him. Sure enough, Thomas, with his dark hair and dark eyes. He was standing close enough that I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He was so tall. It was infuriating. 

"What are you doing in my home?" He said as he tilted his head to the side to study me, a small smile on his lips. He didn't look shocked, he just looked pleased. His hair was slightly damp and his skin had a glow that told me he had just been exercising. In his hand was a duffel bag with the school's hockey team's logo on the front. 

Then it hit me. This was his house. This multi-million dollar penthouse was his house. I was in Thomas Verner's house. 

Fuck me. 

"Sorry?" He said, a full smile on his face now. Fuck, I must have said that last part out loud. 

"This is your house?!" I whisper-shouted.

"Why are we whispering?" He whispered back. I scowled which only seemed to make him smile more.

"Because this is your house!" I said, like it was obvious. "I'm in your house!"

"It's a penthouse, actually. And I've been in yours." He said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up." I said, a small smile growing on my face now.