My Brothers Best Friend [18+]

Chapter Twelve

Noah works late Sunday and Monday night, not returning until the early hours of the morning. I wake up each night when the front door closes, listen to him attempt to sneak around, and then drift back off. 

I also catch Matt ignore another of Skye's calls on Monday night when we're eating the nachos I made, so we have the same anxiety-inducing talk about what I'm going to say to her at Sara's house. 

Noah's eyes are droopy when we get into the car on Tuesday morning but he plays loud music to keep his wits about him. He drops me off late because of an accident on the motorway so I rush out of the car once we reach the office, muttering my thanks. 

Lost in my own head, I go through the usual morning routine of elevator, greet Chelsea, desk, emails, coffee delivery. That's easily the best part - the vanilla latte that appears at my desk after a bathroom break. I take my sweet time with that part of the day. 

I send out multiple tweets promoting our Black Friday sales, then queue around ten more to go out over the next few days so I won't have to do them again. I make the edits our production team sent back on the Christmas advert script, returning the updated version alongside three smiley emojis and a reminder that if they need anything that they shouldn't hesitate to email. 

It's been in production for two days but is set to take two weeks to make, finalise, and get out onto television. I've already been in contact with the finance department to confirm that our slots are still booked in between games on sports channels. 

"Oval room for birthday cake," Chelsea sings, walking past my desk with a lit candle hidden behind her hand. That's right, I'd forgotten: Loretta's birthday is today. We'd done a round-robin to collect money for her gift on Friday, and then another yesterday to get her card signed by everyone. 

It'd completely slipped my mind with the to-do list currently filling up the position of every thought I have. 

I press send on yet another email, check the twitter engagement, and walk over to the oval room to help Mohammed continue opening the boxes of pastry goods and cupcakes. Chelsea sticks the lit candle into a pink-sprinkled cake with white chocolate buttons stuck to the side of it. 

"Happy Birthday!" We scream in unison as she enters the room. 

We don't chat about work as we stuff ourselves with junk food over the lunch break. Instead Loretta tells us that her husband had helped the kids make breakfast in bed this morning and that they'd managed to get a babysitter for an expensive dinner tonight. Chelsea tells us the last time somebody took her on an actual date she was fourteen, and it had been at the cinema. 

"I've been on way too many terrible first dates to count," Zach groans. "Please, let's not." 

"Ditto," I state. Let's definitely not. Unless meeting somebody at a club at uni counted as a first date, or a late night McDonald's trip afterwards, I hadn't been on one. 

Not that I feel as if I'm missing out. I always hung out with the people I dated - either my house or theirs - but we just never went to a fancy dinner. Or dressed up to go somewhere nice. Nothing that ever felt like a 'real' date. 

"I think you bought too much food," I tell Zach, eyeing the multiple pastries and muffins left untouched on the table. "Dibs on taking two cupcakes home for the boys." 

Zach eyes me for a second too long. 

I glance over to him, raise my eyebrow. What?

He shakes his head and waves me off, so I grab two chocolate muffins from a box of four and open the door with my hip. Loretta thanks me as I slip past the entryway so I throw her a big smile and slink back to my desk.