𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

• 37 •

My lips look like a swollen vagina.

I don't know why I bothered with lipstick, thinking that it would hide the swell and the little crease on one bottom lobe. If anything, the reddish nude tint made things worse. As I expected, people did not let it slide. "What happened to your lip, Gia?" asked Mia, chirpy as ever on a work morning. Today, the woman is wearing a white dress with her usual red lip. Of course, incorporating her favorite color elsewhere on her body, her shoes are red—bright, saturated red.

I put my bag on my desk, "Got drunk and fell down some stairs." I answered, using the same excuse we used on Ralph. We—Keenan and me.

Like the morning could not get anymore irking, Nolo voiced an opinion that no one asked for, "Very unprofessional to get wasted on a night before work. Reminds me of some other people." he rolled his eyes after doing a once-over around the room.

Domino Jensen's nephew spoke, turning his office chair and laying his feet before his keyboard, "You're just salty we never invite you."

I rubbed my temples as my ass met my office chair's cushion. "I won't go anyway," said Nolo, chin up.

I drowned out the rest of the banter, though not before letting Vince's "I don't see how that's a bad thing," register.

In front of me, a stack of manuscripts was flaunting boobs. I'm more of an ass girl. Though I'm grateful for the job and can't imagine myself doing anything unrelated to reading and writing, I am so not feeling it this morning. There's a handful of reasons: A, my lip. B, Nolo. C, I realized that I need to go grocery shopping later since I served what's left in my fridge to Keenan. D, the man I woke up next to was determined to have me stay at home. E, although he failed, thus, me being in Contented's building, it's hard not to admit that the idea of fucking everywhere in my apartment the whole day was better than scribbling red lines on papers. The only way I got Keenan to shut up? Well... a ding from my computer alerted me of an email.

Keenan B. Travino: Delete the fucking picture.

That's what got him to shut up: the picture I have as my phone lockscreen. Just to annoy him, of course. I'd have no other reason to make someone my lockscreen. I was fine with the cute kitten I found on Pinterest before the man hugging a purple bear in high-def quality. Ignoring the email, I grabbed a pen and dove in.

Not a while later, Courtney's voice sounded from my right. The woman stood, one hand on her hip and the other gripping the back of my chair. "Someone was looking for you earlier, love," she told me.

I looked up from my read just when things were starting to get interesting. "Who?"

I watched as she walked back to her desk, "I'm not familiar but they wanted me to tell you to be in room 802 after lunch."

"Thanks, Courtney," I said to the woman arranging files on her table.

"Oh," she squeaked, then plastering the perfect look of a curious woman. The C in Courtney's for curiosity, "and what happened to your lip?"

That's the nth time I've heard the question and it wasn't even lunch yet. I shrugged but it felt tense, "Fell down some stairs."

The woman pouted, "You poor thing," she cooed, shaking her head. Not knowing how else to respond, I sent the woman a tight smile before bringing my attention to a notification on my screen. Squinting, I read another message from Mr. Keenan Travino. Admittedly, I expected Ass to be his middle name. Heck, maybe the B means Bitch. Who knows? certainly not me. It turns out that emails that go in and out of the company computers are recorded and by default more formal than the typical exchanges. Hence, the inevitable discovery of the man's initial.