Page 12 of When Stars Collide
Okay, Mena, you have a couple more minutes to think about how you’re going to explain yourself to him and why he shouldn’t send your ass packing.
I nodded and smiled at my other co-workers, politely acknowledging their too-early-for-this-shit pleasantries as I made my way to my cubicle and stowed my purse underneath my desk.
Think, Mena, think. It’s what you’re best at—talking yourself out of sticky situations.
I’d completed about a dozen laps around my work area when the sound of my desk phone ringing snapped me back down to reality. It was Phineas calling from his office. My time had decidedly run out.
“H-Hey, Phineas,” I answered, my voice just as shaky as the rest of my body.
“Hey, do you mind popping in for a sec?”
I’d rather have a colonoscopy with a broken beer bottle.
“Be right there.”
I stepped out into the hall, commencing my walk of shame to Phineas’s office. Despite knowing I was being paranoid, it felt like all eyes were on me. From Cheryl in accounting to Bradley our courier, in my mind, tales of my indiscretions were being sung in my wake, building to crescendo as I neared the end of my journey.
Phineas’s door was open, his back turned to me. I walked in, discreetly closing the door behind me. He looked up from his laptop as I meekly took a seat in one of the wingback chairs situated in front of him.
“Mena Straszewski, have I been eager to speak with you this morning.”
“It was a mistake,” my mouth blurted out without waiting for my brain’s approval. “Those pictures I sent to you, they were meant for my boyfriend.I should have double-checked that I was sending them to the right person, but it was just so late, and I …”
Phineas stared at me, eyebrow cocked, brown eyes reflecting a perfect cocktail of amusement and confusion.
“And you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
He shook his head. “No, but that’s not saying much. I generally have no idea what you’re talking about most of the time.”
“Fair enough.” I glanced down at his cell phone resting on his desk. “I suppose I should start from the beginning, then?”
“That would be preferable.”
“Look, I sent a text to you last night.”
“You did?” He turned to pick up his phone.
“No, no, no, no!” I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist, instantly wishing I hadn’t. “I’m sorry … again,” I apologized, pretending to brush off his suit jacket. “Just let me finish my story before,” my stomach sank, “you open up any texts from me.”
“This has to be good.” Setting the phone back down in front of him, he leaned back in this chair.
Here goes everything.
Unable to make proper eye contact with him, I regaled Phineas with the tale of my attempted foray into softcore porn, including my delightfully relatable faux pas, wherein said pornographic material had made its way onto his mobile device instead of to its intended recipient.
“I never do this … and you can bet for damn sure I never will again.”
“What? Get naked? I don’t proclaim to be an expert on your personal habits, but I’m pretty certain that’s a statement that won’t hold true.” The gleam in his eyes was undeniable.
Is he enjoying this? Does he like having something over me?
“Do my ears deceive me or was that an actual joke fromthePhineas Drake?”
He smiled. “What is life if we can’t have a little fun once in a while?” He picked up his cell phone again, sending the butterflies traveling right back into my intestines. “And what is life if we let one mistake define the rest of our days?” He handed me his phone. “The pin to get in is 76590.”
“For the record, I wasn’t nude.” With an appreciative glance up at him, I plugged the pin number into the phone, unlocking the screen. The icon for his text messages was located right on his home screen. Fingers shaking, I opened his texts, finding mine in the middle of a heap of unopened messages, and deleted it.
“Are we all set, then?” he asked.
