Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret / 3

~now~

TUCKER WHO? I DON'T KNOW NO TUCKER......

The summer sun torments me from the other side of the window. Painfully tormenting to the point that I wish I had never asked for a office with any windows at all. With so much yellow and warmth spilling thru the floor to ceiling length panes of glass, it was a gruesome challenge to find any motivation in the mundane reality that this was my future. A job. A career. A life behind a desk. A miserable existence contained from freedom, fun and sun. If only someone had told me early in my freshman year of college that when I had selected public relations because it sounded so exciting, that in real life applications, it was anything but.

If. Only.

Like now, in my newly appointed experience of interning after graduation, I was finding that it was the vast opposite of exciting. It was debilitating in a brain numbing way of how I was going to survive life after my senior year. A frightening prologue filled with little or no thrill of day in and day out un-productivity that would lead to the inevitable desperation of me wanting to escape. To flee. To quit. Seeking new employment. Or no employment at all.

Anything would be better.

I huff with current mood in tow and spin side to side in my swivel chair. I  stare mindlessly at the embrace of sunshine wishing I was outside soaking it up instead of sitting inside repulsed by the research that lay in wait of approval on my neglected computer screen. Torturous-ly, a chatty pigeon flutters past my window, and I heave a wayward longing sigh at it's freedom then curse it's non-human responsible life.

Fucking bird. And it's fucking wings. And it's fucking ability to fly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

"Damn girl, you look like miserable shit. I told you that you should have taken the internship with me at my family's company."

The hint of tease was  counter-laced with it's intended jibe, and I force my lips into a frown as I spin toward my open office door. A smirk and two dreamy green eyes grace my doorway wrapped in a neatly pressed gray linen suit. It's a nauseatingly swaggering cute vision especially as he's fiddling with his gold family crested cuff links. And my lips twitch with a threat of a smile at the much needed Ralph Lauren-esque punch to my sour attitude . "Slumming on the wrong side of the boulevard to bother me just because you can't stand your own family at home or the office makes your offer less desirable, you know."

Tanner flips his loose auburn locks back with his hand and levels me with a rueful glare. "And you know that's why I keep begging you to join my living nightmare. The mere thought of making my mother clench to see us together running amuck at Townsend Jones would make my three month hellish internship so much more worth while. So, when are you going to quit being such a bitchy prude and fulfill that fantasy for me?"

I giggle. "That's all you want me for. To  use me for your sick pleasure."

There's a smoldering glint in his eyes as he arches a brow. "Baby, you know that if I have my way with you, there'd be no end to your pleasure and you'd be wrecked for any one after me."

His nose crinkles in the most aggravatingly adorable way that I want to throat punch him for being so damn attractive. All these years, and it was still gut wrenching to be so close and not touch. Yet, there I was right in the thick of it. Asking for it but telling myself at least we had this. Our sad little bantering friendship. It was our glue. Our adhesive to stay connected. And for all the rounds of fabulous sex that I knew would never happen with him,  I wouldn't change it.

Damn it.

Fingers snap in the air. "Fi...hello...Fi. You in there, sweetie? Penny for you thoughts."