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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
ELEANOR
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'Three trillion nerves in the human body,' I said into the speaker, 'and you managed to get under every single one of them.'
I shunned people-watchers. Being hypocritical there, I had that weird quality in me, too. But could you blame them; my workspace was being transformed into some flower haven, and I was the embarrassed florist. This morning, I had woken to the sound of chirping birds which had already started to irritate me and the smell of old Chinese food which had become stale from sitting all night in the open. So, into my failed happy schedule of Tuesday, I was not ready for snobby glances and asshole-ish comments.
I brought the phone away from my ears to shoo off two understudy girls who took too long to pass by. Their hand gestures gave off the topic at hand. I flipped the bird to them, subtly glancing at the infuriatingly long line of glass windows which overlooked my colleague's office. He was oblivious to what was happening next door which was an added advantage; that man never seemed to care about anything but his work. Meanwhile, the girls had scrammed away after my hand gesture and I pulled down the wooden shades on both the hallway side windows, having faced enough judgment.
Being Tony Stark's girlfriend was exhausting as much as it was exhilarating. The first time I had met him, I swear he had his soul in a bottle. And then, I was swift to realize that that was the way to live by when you were both famous and a genius, with everybody seeing right through but not precisely. For self-protection and preserving one's sanity.
'I'm not even sorry,' I heard Tony laugh in a breathless chatter.
Tony Stark, right now, was begging for an ass-kicking. Not even his perfectly good excuse for an AI could save him. Infiltrating the system to my company's servers using my name and password was my first reason and second, plaguing my office with pansies, purple-roses and baby breaths. Mostly, the former.
He had a talent for overdoing everything. Be it his exceptional suit of armour or our relationship, he insisted that he used his capriciousness to bring that go-over-big factor into whatever we did. For our first date, Tony had surprised me by buying out an entire restaurant for the night and further justified himself for being the Beatles kind of popular. Of course, the world always related world-famous bands to superheroes he fought in super suits of metal.
'I mean, I'm sorry for not asking your permission to perform the actions but,' he continued to persist on his statement. 'Admit it, you would've never allowed me.'
