Page 17 of Big & Bossy

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he grinned, taking one big deep breath as he shook himself out then adding, “You should really start running more, seemed like you were struggling to keep up.”

My eyes had never rolled so hard.

————

The whizz of the blender was like white noise in my head, clearing it for a few seconds as I watched the bits of fruit, yogurt, and spinach get smaller and smaller. Around and around it went, smearing against the edges, turning dusty pink in the jug.

“I think it’s good, Mandy,” Harry chuckled as he wiped the back of his neck with a sweat rag. He’d followed me back to my house after I’d offered him what he so dutifully called ‘running aftercare.’

Releasing the button on the blender, I watched as all the little particles slowed and stopped. I missed the noise already. “This is my secret recipe, you know,” I joked, sending him a half smile as I poured out enough for both of us. “You can’t ever tell a soul what you saw me put in here.”

“Strawberries, spinach, yogurt, and apple juice. Really creative. Genius, if you ask me.”

“Shut up,” I chuckled. I leaned onto the white kitchen island, my exposed lower back drying from the cool air in the house and watched as Harry hopped up onto the bar stool. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about your date last week. How’d it go?”

He laughed as he sucked up the smoothie through a straw, wincing as he got a big chunk of spinach. “I was wondering when you’d remember. It’s fine, you’ve had your own stress going on. It was good. We had a great time, she seemed super into me, but she, uh… she didn’t return my calls after. Don’t know what I did.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry.” I reached across the island, grabbing his hand with mine and giving it a little squeeze.

“It’s alright. I’m just a little sick and tired of every date I go on ending badly, you know? I’m starting to wonder if I’m some self-fulfilling prophecy now, ruining it before it even gets a chance to start.” He squeezed my hand back, a little harder than I had, as he looked down at our overlapped fingers.

“Don’t be silly. There’s absolutely someone out there for you.” My phone buzzed in the pocket of my leggings but I ignored it. “You’re an incredible guy. You will find someone that matches your vibes and I promise, you’ll be happy.”

Harry mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for me to hear. I didn’t press him on it. What he felt was his business and if he didn’t want to share it, he didn’t have to—I just wished I could make him feel better. I wished he didn’t doubt that there was someone out there for him. I wanted him to be happy, and just because I was happy without a significant other didn’t mean everyone else was.

He downed the rest of his smoothie before hopping off the bar stool.

“Bathroom still where it used to be?”

I chuckled. “Obviously.”

I watched as he walked off down the hall, his legs still shaky from the run. My phone buzzed again in my pocket, and then again. It’s not important. If it was, they’d call. Emptying our glasses into the sink and giving them a quick wash, I tried desperately once again to keep my mind off of Jackson and our argument, off of whatever the fuck his end goal was with all of this.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

“Seriously?” I grumbled, sliding my phone from my pocket and wiping the sweaty screen on a paper towel. My screen was lit up with Instagram notifications, from both my personal and professional accounts. Tags. Comments. Likes. Messages. “What the fuck…?”

I flipped open the notifications, navigating over to the tags. Picture after picture popped up, then video after video, all of the same scene—Jackson, sitting back in his chair with a smug but surprised look on his face. Me, standing up, leaning over him, angry. A direct shot from somewhere off to the side, both of us clearly in view. My hand shook as I read the captions.

Jackson Big’s girlfriend rages at him.

Jackson Big’s off the market?

In a shocking new video, Jackson Big’s new girlfriend Miranda Littleson is already angry with him.

Jackson Big, America’s once most eligible bachelor, might have deserved the lashing he received.

Jackson Big gets his ass handed to him by his new girlfriend.

The shaking moved from my hand throughout my body, tremors racking every inch of me as I clicked the little play button. “I don’t know how I ever let myself love a man like you,” I heard my voice shouting through the speaker of my phone, the clip playing twice before moving on to the next one, the exact same scene. Over and over.

It was past tense. They had to know it was past tense. Right?

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