Under My Skin

Eight

"Who would you rather, beautiful?"

"What?" I questioned, staring into space.

"Woman! This is serious." Tyrone shook his head.

I was so grateful that he'd agreed to go for coffee at such late notice. My mood had hurdled from elated to despair more times than I could count. Coming straight from one of the most tender moments in my life into Führer Dick's domain had been mistake numero uno.

My villainous boss has a keen nose for happiness, and made it his life's mission to extinguish it. He'd done everything in his power, barely short of hitting me over the head with a copier to ensure that I walked out of that office at 5:00pm a broken woman.

I'd called my lifeline and he assured me, "that's nothing a chai and some tea spilling won't fix."

Ahh, if only it were that simple.

So here we were, in the midst of one of his favourite games. "Here are your options: Michael Fassbender or..." He paused for effect. "Or screw Eric Sexypants."

"Tyrone," I whined. "Are we really doing this?"

"Just answer the question."

I knew he was going to make a much bigger deal out of this than it actually was, but I preceded to humour him. "There's no competition. Eric is like no one I've ever met." I clenched my fists. "Not only is he ridiculously gorgeous, he's kind, funny and didn't run off when I went full 'deer in headlights' on him."

"Ohhhh, bitch," he cawed. "Does he have a brother?" His cheeks rounded as he flashed those beautifully straight teeth, almost glowing in contrast with his warm, walnut skin.

"I don't know." I sighed, resting my chin on my hands. "I should know that, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, honey. But it's early in the game, and there's plenty of time to talk about that."

"If I can even talk." My brow furrowed. "I felt like a bloody bipolar patient." I grasped onto my coffee mug, putting on my best Marilyn Monroe voice, "sometimes, I'd be in the conversation. Keeping up seamless," I let out a petite huff before batting me lashes. "Small talk."

Tyrone's eyes widened, licking his lips. "Oh yeah?"

"The. The next minute I'm a sweaty mute who can't even give him eye contact." Irritation builds in me just at the sheer memory of it.

"Surely, it couldn't of been that bad." Tyrone is such a great guy. He'd never understood why I down myself all the time, laughing off any half jokes I made at my expense. He was one of the first men to call me beautiful, vivacious and that I surely 'bat them off with a stick.' No wonder I crushed on the poor guy so hard.

"Oh yeah?" I recalled a very figurative "blow-by-blow" of the excruciating yet tantalising events that had taken place over the past couple of days.

"Bullshit!" Tyrone guffawed.

Taking a sip from his scorching chai latte, he lifted a perfectly shaped brow at me.

I just sat there, blushing crims— well who am I kidding?— violet at this stage. "Shut your face, Ty! What the hell is wrong with me?" Rubbing my bloodshot eyes, I tried to gather my thoughts. "What am I going to do? A majestic, Swedish unicorn has trotted into my life and I'm afraid of scaring him off with my special brand of extra baggage." I looked down at my cherry dress, knowing what horrors hid under that petticoat.

His cheeks puffed out as he scoffed at me. "Again beauty, that's bullshit. You're selling yourself short." Ty held my free hand, pinning me down with those intense chocolate eyes of his. "Putting this man on a pedestal isn't going to do either of you good. You're banging, and don't you forget it!"

I let myself soak it in, and try to convince myself that it's truth. He doesn't look away from me, waiting for me to respond. I ended up looking at my phone as a means of distraction. I mildly grateful that time has gotten away from us. I had to get my hair set and meet up with the guys. "It's six, we've gotta go."

His hand came gently down onto my wrist. "No way, Jóse! You didn't invite me to a little tea spilling and leave when I'm giving you gospel."

I knew he was right. I wanted to be reassured, that I wasn't completely out of my mind for getting involved with this man. That despite my magnitude of off-putting traits, this guy wasn't going to run for the hills when things got real.

Take your medicine, Ella.

His grip loosened. "What are you?"

I giggled awkwardly. "Banging."

"And the next time you see him, you're going to be?"

"Sex on a stick." I smirked now.

"Go get it."

I stand up and grab my bag, a complimentary tap on my behind, urging me on.