Page 13 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

While I’m still waiting for the others to arrive, I take out my phone and re-read the message he sent me after our conversation.

Jordan: Why don’t you sleep on it and let me know your final answer tomorrow? Don’t stress, Bonnie, it’s only an interview. Most people fail it, anyway, so don’t worry. In all likelihood, nothing will come of it ;)

Jordan is so devious. I’m sure he threw that last part in as a challenge. Or is it true? Could it really be harder than what I do on a daily basis as a freelancer? My interest is piqued, but still.

Working with Ethan Hawthorne?Hard pass.

I was careful to avoid him at Brooke’s wedding because, since Cancun, he’s been like a virus in my brain.

I find myself replaying our conversations, wondering why he dislikes me and how it is that he awoke sensations in me that had been locked away for years.

Which apparently have gone back into hibernation because I haven’t been able to get that sexually aroused again.

And I tried. Multiple times.

Nothing.

I even tried sleeping with a big, nerdy guy with glasses. Now, that particular outcome was not only disastrous, it was hilarious.

I imagine working in the same building as him. Would it worsen my obsessive thinking about him? Or would it do the opposite and desensitize me? Do I even want to find out?

I look up as Stella breezes in, her platinum-blonde wavy bob sexily mused, but otherwise, she looks like her usual gorgeous self.

“Hey babe, sorry I’m late. I don’t even have an excuse this time, but I love you, and that should count,” she says as she plops down on the seat.

I smile, impressed. Stella’s timing is so shitty that ten minutes late is early for her. “You’re actually getting better. It’s only been a few minutes, Stella, I think you’ve broken your record.”

“Oh, really! I thought we said nine.” Stella looks almost regretful.

“No, we agreed on ten,” I laugh. “Well, you could always go back outside to wait so you can be properly late. Brooke isn’t even here yet.”

“Nah, I’ll let the record show I got here early today.” She takes a sip of her margarita. “So, what’s good? When you said you had some news, I knew I couldn’t miss this meet-up, not even if the world was ending.”

“Pure flattery” I scoff, although I’m loving it. “I know you can’t wait for the honeymoon gist.”

“No, I’m serious Bonnie. I’m sure Brooke’s honeymoon was super awesome, but this is just as big babe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bonnie look, you’re so giving. You literally give up anything for your friends, but getting you to say anything about yourself is like trying to pull teeth. With a noodle.” She finishes.

A bolt of anxiety hits me. I’m not good at talking about personal things. And it’s usually at this point that my friendships and relationships hit the rocks. The inevitable point where they start to ask for more.

Of course, I’d like to be able to just casually slip personal details into conversations and talk about my parents, or growing up, or high school or college days, an ex, or sex or even a childhood friend… like a normal person would.

Only I can’t. Because none of my experiences in any one of those areas was normal. In fact they were so far from normal that they’re likely to traumatize my nice friends. Or have them to treat me differently to how they do right now.

So I try not to let my past collide with my present, which is why I never talk about personal stuff.

“And that’s not a bad thing Bonnie,” she adds quickly, no doubt noting how quiet I’ve gone. “It’s just that we’re running over each other for any opportunity to be there for you, so when you said you had something to tell us we were excited.”

“Anyway," she says, "shoot. What’s the news or do you want to wait for Brooke?”

I shake my head. “Not it’s fine, I’ll tell Brooke again.”

Although I love Brooke’s kindness and her way of lending perspective to a situation, I’m grateful it’s just Stella right now. She’ll give it to me straight.

“Jordan offered me a job. Actually, that’s not true, it’s not a job; he only invited me to an interview.”

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