As I paint my last entry for my showing tomorrow, my mind replays my conversation with Dean last night like a broken record.
I finally did it. I finally got him to understand that we're done. He's so stubborn. So fucking stubborn. Well, I invented that game. It was time I put my foot down.
Either put my foot down or up his ass. Whatever I could to get him to stop coming around.
I already feel guilty as is for the few times we hooked up. It's time to focus on forward movement in my life.
Sandra approaches me, crying. She wipes away the tears, trying hard to keep it together.
I sit up straight. "Sandra, what's wrong?"
"Dan demoted me." She sniffs. "He said I'm not his assistant anymore." Her voice cracks. "I'm not sure what I did wrong. Maybe it's because I accidentally ordered him a decaf instead on Tuesday. I didn't mean-"
"Sandra, stop." I rise. "You didn't do anything wrong, trust me." I stand before her like a brick wall, hoping that she gathers some strength from me herself. "Do you know who he replaced you with?"
She shakes her head. "No. I'm not sure. All he said was that I wasn't working out with him by his side and that he found someone better."
I roll my eyes furiously with a huff.
Fucking dick.
"Listen, no one fits the position better than you. I'm gonna go talk to him." I give her a reassuring nod.
"Okay." She sniffs before returning to her seat.
I can't believe he still is trying to make me his fucking assistant.
I march into the doorway of his office. "I don't want to be your assistant." I demand.
His head lifts up from the desk. He seems he was in the middle of writing something. He smiles. "Hello to you too, miss Rosie."
"I'm serious." I continue. "Give the position back to Sandra. She didn't do anything wrong."
He leans back in his seat. "No. You're right. She was a fine assistant." He shrugs. His eyes darken as they meet mine. "She just isn't you."
Shivers crawl up my spine from his crooked smile. "That's not right." I step into his office. "You're picking favorites."
"Is that what you would call it?" He squints. "Perhaps, you were suited better for the position. Afterall, your artwork outshines her at the end of the day."
I frown. "Don't say that. That's a bunch of bullshit. Give her position back. I'm not taking it."
He narrows his eyes at me. There's a cloud of thoughts in his mind I can see from here. What he's about to say, can't be anything good.
"Either you take the job . . Or I fire Sandra." He offers.
I huff. "What? No, you can't do that!"
"I can." He asserts calmly. "I'm the boss."
I glare at him, trying hard to fight this battle. There's no words for me to say. I can't let Sandra get fired, but I also want her to stay being an assistant. This man always finds a new way to make me hate him even more.
I have no other choice. I can't let her get fired. "Fine." I utter under my breath.
You fucking win, pig.
For now.
. . .
"How's work?" Noah asks from his kitchen while cooking us some grilled cheese. He swears by it that it's the best he's ever had.
I roll my eyes from the couch. "Ugh." I prop myself up on the back of the couch. "Let's not talk about my job."
He chuckles. "That bad, huh? You got that showing tomorrow, must be excited for that at least, right?" He watches the skillet.
I nod. Actually, I am looking forward to it. Dan has another thing coming tomorrow. "I am. Would you like to join me?" I smile while fluttering my eyes.
He smiles at me. "I'd love to."
"So." I rest my chin on my hands. "What about your job? How was it today?"
He shrugs. "Mostly training at the pool."
"What'd you do? C'mon, details!" I laugh.
He chuckles and says, "And what about those details you gave me about your job? C'mon, details!" He teases.
I giggle before burying my face in my hands with a groan. "It's just my asshole boss is all. I don't want to get into it because then I'll get fired up."
He nods. "Alright, that's fair." He adds, "I swam fifty meters underwater with no breath a few times,"
I gasp.
"then dove down to the fifteen foot bottom to tie knots for about a minute or two." He flips the sandwich. He speaks so casually of his training.
"Okay, so they're like training you to become part of the Avengers or what?" My eyebrows raise. "That's insane!"
He shrugs. "Getting over the stamina at first is hard, but after so many times, its not so scary." He carries two plates in his hands as he walks around the counter towards me.
I grab one of the plates from him as he sits down. "This better be one heck of a sandwich."
"It is." He flashes his smile.
I take a bite and the sandwich melts in my mouth. "Mmmm. You're right, this is something else."
He smiles down at his lap. He's quiet for a moment, then finally says, "So, you and Dean?"
I stop chewing before taking a hard swallow. "What about me and Dean?"
"Well, it's just . . last night was pretty intense." He leans back.
I set my plate down on the coffee table. "There's nothing intense about it. That's how we always were with each other. Fighting."
Why is he bringing this up now? Is there something bothering him?
"Why was he over?" He asks, still avoiding eye contact.
What is he trying to get out of all this? Something is bothering him, I can tell.
I watch him for a moment, thinking carefully of what to say. "I didn't invite him over, if that's where you're going with this."
"I'm not." He cuts in.
I continue. "He came over . . Because he needed some closure, I guess." I avoid eye contact.
I can feel his eyes on me for a moment.
"Okay." He says.
"Okay." I repeat. "There's nothing for you to worry about."
He nods, then picks up his sandwich. "What movie do you want to watch?"
