Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret / 9

PLAYING WITH FIRE...it really is dangerous, so don't throw more gas on it....

Another week down. I did it. Me. All on my own. My 'She-ra' quiver was full of challenges accepted and achieved. Especially with the survival of taking down the sleaze ball Wheaton Pike and live to tell about it. Which my bosses were taking notice and respecting the hell out of me. It was an invigorating feeling. 

A damn good one. 

Strutting thru the revolving doors, I beam my smile upward squinting into the evening sunshine and look up at the skyline above B & B's office building. The summer's sun breaks its rays over the tops of the glinting glass and metal structure. It's a marveling site. A gripping one that was proving to be one of the best decisions ever. The job was just the beginning of a lot of changes ahead of me. I could feel it. And I was thankful for the opportunity of it. It wasn't as glamorous as being one of my dad's corporate aides which I could have had without even asking for. But this....this here...this goal was mine. I chose it. And I sorta felt proud.

Damn. Forget sorta. I am totally aces. I am the bomb. Booya!

I stifle back the urge to indecently pump my hips into the public air with that last thought. Instead, I inhale the crisp evening air and relish my victory with a bigger grin. I close my eyes briefly and exhale the sheer rush of my excitement. Thoughts of the week flash by. Good things. All of them good. Which, bonus, my week had been Jones free. No Tanner. No Tucker. No complications. Just me and work and the occasional glass of wine with my roommate over take out. It was bliss. Like I had turned a corner and was going to....

"Penny for your thoughts?"

My mini- inner- celebration gets cut rudely short by a swift kick in the head by fate. And fate was a bitch, I hated her. I squeeze my eyes shut tight one last time before turning around with a glower. "Holy shit, this city really isn't big enough, is it?"

Ever the conflicting mixture of brooding asshole and disgustingly handsome charmer in a trim expensive suit that makes the color in his eyes twinkle brighter, Tucker levels me with one of his shit eating grins. "Got plans for dinner tonight? You can tell me all about how tiny the city is."

I huff and start walking away. "Not interested."

Flagrantly ignoring my diss, he swiftly steps his stride to match mine. "Yes, you are. You just don't know it yet."

A snorted laugh shoots past my lips. "Gawd, you should hear yourself. Always so smug, aren't you? You seriously can't help but be a douche bag."

A throaty laugh pipes back at me. "Douche bag, huh? Damn. It's good to know that I've moved up from asswipe. At least I'm pretty sure that's what you called me the last time we had a little spat."

Irked by his reference to any of our past fights, I quicken my steps even though my toes ache from the pinching in my pointy Louboutins. "Spat? Really? Oh my gawd. What are you 80? And they weren't spats. They were more than that. I'm pretty sure we could have been compared to Chernobyl the last time we actually talked."

The cool breeze in the air doesn't do me any favors of blocking the hint of delicious musk of his cologne that filtrates my space. I cringe for liking it's fragrance at all and scream silent obscenities when he leans closer to me not missing a beat in his pace and chuckles like the bastard that he was. 

"Shit, Fi, it couldn't have been that bad, was it? I only have fond memories of how cute you looked throwing things at me and telling me to fuck off. I thought it was sweet at how you showed how much you care. Probably one of my most favorite memories of you and me actually. Gawd, I miss those days. We were quite the pair."