Unholy Obsession

Chapter Ten; Shopping for books

Hannah's pov

Sitting cross legged on my bedroom floor, I stared at the full bucket of raw rice. My phone sat in the middle, my toes curling as I watched for minutes. I had seen this crazy hack on social media that said sinking a wet phone in a bucket of rice would be enough to drain it of every moisture.

Frustration clawed at me like a hungry tiger. The urge to hold my curls and drag every inch of them out became a very tempting thought. But I couldn't. I already had a light towel wrapped around my hair and had successfully done the plopping process. The problem with 4A curls was that it was harder to get rid of any sort of dirt in it and in my case, it was mud.

Despite that mind blowing orgasm I had last night, two disasters ensued. First one was that because of the rain, my phone became wet and secondly, my curls were a mess. I couldn't wash them last night and had to sleep on the floor, for fear of staining my sheets with the mud.

Considering this were real time problems, one more plagued me internally. Vincent refused to hug me. More annoyingly, he didn't want to join me in the SUV. He most likely was disgusted after what we did. My mother had always talked about how  sex before marriage brought a lot of emotional baggage and for a second, I was beginning to consider if she could be right.

"Shit," I rested two fingers at the bridge of my nose.

What did I expect? This was exactly how it would turn out. Lance didn't think I was good enough. Vincent would think the same too. No one would want someone like me. Bland, boring Hannah who hadn't done anything exceptional with her life. Coming from a third world country like mine, with having immigrant parents, the pressure to be phenomenal was always there. But I was just a secretary. Nothing more.

Digging my hand into the bucket of rice, I brought out my phone and tried turning it on. The logo flashed and I smiled. It went off.

Argh!

I wanted to claw at my scalp once more but remembered I needed to keep that wet fucker dry. Footsteps rippled in the room and Ashley came into my field of vision, holding a piece of paper and reciting some anatomical words I couldn't even pick up. 

"Still trying to get that baby going?" she asked, squatting next to the bucket. 

"It just turned on and went off."

"But for real though, how did you manage to get your phone wet?"

Heat creeped to my neck. "It fell out of my cab."

"How on earth did that…" she sighed, standing. "Never mind. We've got bigger problems."

"What?"

"Some pretty boy is outside the apartment. Said he's your boss."

I sprang out of the floor. "What? Wait, what does he look like?"

"Dark hair, black eyes, clean shaven and hair parted to a side. Looks like your typical white boy of the month."

"Shit."

Ashley widened her eyes. "Wait, that's him?"

"Yes!"

I covered my mouth and rushed into the bathroom. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What was he doing at my place on a Saturday morning? Didn't he have some place to be? I had assumed that after his attitude yesterday, he wouldn't want to see me for a while. Setting my hair free in front of a mirror, my curls fell down. They were still slightly wet but I believed I could work with this. Frantically roaming my hands at the counter where all my skincare products were, I reached out for my facial cleanser and started washing my face.