somebody else. ❀ lrh

assignment.

LUKE.

I think I'm going soft.

Fuck, what an awful thought.

I'd spent last night scouring every club I could get into in Charlotte's city centre, looking for a hookup, someone who could make me forget about that charismatic blonde with the prettiest blue eyes I'd ever seen.

And I went home with absolutely nobody but myself. Each time I'd get into a halfway decent conversation with someone remotely attractive, I'd shut down, solely because nobody had the same bite that she did, the same laugh or tasted like gin and tonics.

I spent the night, cock in hand, thinking far too much about that sweet girl I'd somehow managed to make fall apart for me every delicious chance I had to fuck her.

Walking into work the next day, I didn't even have the energy to flirt with the receptionist like I would every morning. I could tell she noticed something was off, but Tessa would never confront me, she knows better than that.

Especially after that one particularly boring night I spent at her apartment so long ago. The girl thought shower sex was the kinkiest shit she'd ever heard of. Safe to say, I didn't sleep with her a second time.

God, I can't think about that night without shuddering.

A sigh of relief left my lips the second I entered my office. Though work was far from my mind, I needed the distraction. All I could fucking think about was the last time I had Avery writhing in pleasure underneath me.

Just as I was about to sit at my desk, feeling already overwhelmed by the urgent stack of client contracts lingering beside my computer, a slew of quick knocks echoed through my pleasantly silent office.

Reluctantly glancing up from the taunting papers, my eyes land on a grinning Michael Clifford, leant against the doorframe.

"G'mornin' boss," he greets me, cocking his head to the side as his lazy smirk grows.

Michael fucking Clifford, the bane of my existence. Constantly saunters into my office like he has the right to be there. Cocky little shit, I'll tell you, loves playing the innocent man and seeing how far it can get him.

I roll my eyes at the redhead. "What's so fuckin' good about it?" I grumble, looking away to log into my computer. "What can I do you for, Clifford?"

He takes the opportunity to step inside, plopping himself in front of me on one of the two plush chairs, ruffling through some papers in his lap.

"Uh- so I guess I'm just a bit confused on my latest assignment," he says, tongue poked out between his lips as he searches for what I assume is a specific document amongst the mess of papers.

"Okay," I respond, looking away again to scan through the large influx of emails I'd gotten over the past twenty-four hours. "And tell me what's so confusing about it?"

"Well.." Michael trails off hesitantly, seemingly waiting until I finished typing my email to continue, "Uh- I just- the code I worked really hard on is so fucking difficult- not many people can do it and.."

"And what?" I press, growing annoyed at how fucking long this imbecile has been wasting my time.

"Why are we giving it away?"

I scoff at the boy's words, finally glancing over at him, just after pressing send on a particularly angry email. "We're not giving it away, Michael. I'm fucking selling it, obviously. They can't recreate the code, they just need to use it."