Page 119 of Reconciling With the Rival

“Well, maybe after you’re done with her, I can take a stab. I could use an arrangement like yours, but mine would be never-ending.”

“Over my dead body, Brad. Plus, Ella would never go near your dick with a six meter pole.”

“Ella?” Brody asks me, his arm retreating from my side.

“What?” I ask him.

“You’re fucking Ella? Ella Williams? The bitch from our office?”

Did that really come out of my mouth?“No, no, I’m not. And don’t call her that.” I try to play it off, but the two of them have weird looks on their faces.

“Wait a minute, it all makes sense now,” Brody says, putting his glass down. “You guys were always staying late at the office, the bickering; it was all a ruse because you’re fucking her.”

“Are you guys in a relationship or something?” Brad asks me.

“No. Ella and I aren’t anything as far as you two are concerned. Forget you even heard anything, because there’s nothing going on with us,” I say in an effort to change the subject. Maybe if I say it one more time, they’ll believe me.

“Whatever you say, dude. I hope the sex was good. She seems like she would be a good fuck.”

Not wanting to punch this fucker in the mouth after the bomb I just dropped, I fake a phone call and get the hell out of here.

I go to call a car but decide to walk instead, the weight of what I said sobering me up so fucking quickly.

I don’t think they would say anything, and I feel like I covered my tracks well, right? God, I can’t even remember exactly what I told them. All I know is that I hope those two were fucked up enough to forget any trace of the conversations we had. I sure as hell want to go back in time and stop myself from blurting that out—especially in front of those pricks.

Brody is technically above me and Ella at work, and that worries me. I don’t think he’d do anything, but now he has something to hold over our heads. I wouldn't put it past him to use that piece of information to get something he wants or needs in the future.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

This could be a disaster if it comes back to bite us, and it will be all my fault. Not only did I proposition her in the first place, but I was the one who outed it to the people we work with. And Ella would be pissed at me if this got out.

It is partially her fault, though. If I could get her out of my mind, then this might not have happened. If she wasn't attached to me like a fucking tick, maybe I could move on, fuck someone else, and call it a fucking day.

But I can’t. Even after this is over, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.

Would she stand by me after all this shit? Would she believe me if I told her what I did tonight? Would she fix it? Knowing her, she would. She’s good at that, fixing everyone else’s problems for them, but I never wanted her to fix mine.

Though this isourproblem, not just hers.

I should just tell her. I should go to her place and tell her what happened.

But then I could lose her. I could lose the one shred of Ella I have still—our sex pact. She would break it off, I’m sure of it, and then she’d probably punch me in the face for what I did—for how careless I was with my fucking mouth.

This is my mistake, and I have to be the one to fix it, no matter what it costs me.

36

Ominous As Shit

There’s something in theair today. I can’t pinpoint what, but since I got up, I’ve had this weird feeling sitting in my gut.

Maybe it’s the fact that I haven't talked to my family in a while, or maybe it’s because I have feelings for Leo, but all I feel is unsettled as I pull into the parking garage. I didn't even listen to music on the way here because of how I’m feeling.

I’m bummed my family hasn't reached out to me yet. I know I was the one who walked out, but they were the ones who invited my mother without telling me. I was the one who got ambushed, so as far as I’m concerned, they should reach out to me first.

But I’ve been fixing things my whole life. Not just with my family, but in general. I’m a fixer, and when I can’t do anything about that, I spiral a bit.

It drives me fucking insane that there’s a rift in my family I can’t fix—or don’t want to yet. They hurt me. My mother hurtme, and after all I said to their faces, I know I probably hurt them.

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