I thought dinner with Presley would be manageable, that spending more time with her would somehow numb me to her presence. I hoped coming into work on Monday would be normal and uneventful. Maybe my exhaustion from a weekend with the girls would be enough to keep me tethered to reality.
I. I thought wrong.
It’s like all my senses are on cocaine. Everything is magnified around Presley. The smell of her wafting around me as we made our way toward my office. The sound of her heels on the floor, poking tiny holes into my façade of professionalism. Her slight frame keeps pace with mine from the corner of my eye.
When I first asked her to talk in my office, she froze. But then a soft blush bloomed on her cheeks, and her eyelashes fluttered with a short blink. Was she embarrassed? Nervous?
Re
