Not Just Another New Girl

Chapter 4 : Silent Rager

**Isa

“Uh, are you going to be okay?" Erin asked.

I pedaled my stationary bike faster and gritted my teeth together. I could feel her eyeballing me with worry, but I just had to tire myself out before I talked about this.

I'd seen his face a few times now at work, even a couple of times up close, and nothing. Either he didn't remember me, or he was hella good at playing pretend.

I scoffed and tried to go faster, but I accidentally lifted my foot off the pedal, causing it to swing around and clip the back of my heel. I flinched in pain and nearly fell off the damn thing.

“Woah, girl," Erin said, stabilizing me with her motherly-instinctive hand. “What's going on with you? Do we need to take a break? Take a walk?"

I took the towel from around my shoulders and wiped at my hairline, sitting back on the seat of the bike. My heart was racing, and I could feel my blood pounding in my head.

“Seriously, this has to be some kind of lame-ass joke, right?" I said, looking over to her.

Erin raised her eyebrow skeptically and looked around the workout room. “I'm going to need some clarification on that," she muttered.

I huffed and took a swig of my bottled water. After a big, angry gulp. I clicked the lid back on and stuffed it back in the holder.

“My friggin boss," I said. “He's the guy from last weekend. You know… Rooftop—"

“Rooftop Guy?" Erin gasped, her mouth agape.

I rubbed my face and nodded. How embarrassing. But the fact that he ended up being my boss wasn't what had me feeling this way.

“That's not even the worst of it…"

“NO!" Erin growled, gripping my wrist. “He's not, like… expecting certain things from you, right? Like… certain… favors?"

I laughed ironically. “Oh, I don't think that's going to be a problem because the asshat is pretending like that night didn't even happen!"

Erin's eager grip loosened. “What?"

All I could do was shake my head. “How freaking embarrassing. I mean… we kissed. Hard. And I totally let him feel me up. And I totally felt… his… up… if you catch my drift. And now he's acting like he doesn't even know me!"

Astonishment. That was the look in Erin's eyes. She blinked at me for a moment before she was able to reroute her brain into the helpful, supportive friend role.

“Maybe he really doesn't remember?" she suggested.

I snorted. “He was super drunk before, but I was with him for over an hour, and he seemed sobered up."

“Then… maybe he is pretending because he doesn't want to put you in a tough position. Maybe HE feels awkward and doesn't want to put HIMSELF in a tough position…"

That didn't make me feel any better. “Still… I… he should at least…" I began. But where was I going with this?

What? What was I expecting from him?

It was one night. We were drunk— him much more than I was. All we did was kiss… well, mostly.

So why did it matter?

“Are you… disappointed?" Erin asked in a soft voice.

I sighed, my heart suddenly running out of steam and slowing down. I climbed off the bike. “Let's take a walk around the track. My ass hurts," I said.

***

It was still strange to come home and remember that I was living by myself. Only a couple of months ago, Thomas and I would wake up at the same time, carpool to and from work, eat the same dinner, and go to bed under the same set of silky sheets.

Every night, that was our routine.

But how abruptly was it knocked off the tracks…? After four years, you'd think the ruts in the metaphorical road of our relationship would have allowed for less… straying.

As it turned out, that was not how it worked. The deeper the ruts, the harder the crash. And I crashed HARD.

I flipped the lights on in my silent apartment. At least I had a good view that overlooked Puget Sound. The apartment was roomy, with an extra room that was still full of unboxed things, stuff I didn't want to bother putting away. Honestly, I couldn't even remember what was in there.

Going straight to the bathroom, I took a steamy shower and washed my face.

One thing about living alone, about being single again, is I did everything for myself. I used to wash my face religiously so that I'd look good standing next to Thomas, so he'd think I was beautiful even without makeup on.

I'd go to the gym to keep a lean body so he'd think I was attractive and pleasing to hold. I'd brush my teeth an extra time in the middle of the day so he wouldn't accidentally get a whiff of my lunch breath and suddenly find me less attractive.

“How pathetic was that?" I said aloud to my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

He'd had so much control over me, and I didn't even realize it. I did everything for him. I even let him be CEO of our company, my company.

Not anymore. Nobody would ever have that kind of control over me again, especially not some try-hard douche like Thomas.

I slipped under the cotton covers of my bed and forced out the thoughts about my boss.

Who cared if we shared a one-night makeout session on the rooftop of a bar? He clearly didn't.

Actually, I was beginning to wonder if they were the same guy at all. Rooftop Guy and Callan Arison were two entirely different people.

Rooftop Guy was nonchalant and quirky and cute, while Callan Arison was cold and stony and proper.

I squeezed my eyes shut. If I could just fall asleep quickly, maybe I could stop thinking about him, stop being bothered by him.

But he was everywhere.

At work, even when I didn't see him in person, I got emails or hand-written Post-It notes on my stacks of paperwork. I heard his name in the hallways, in the elevator, in the break room, in the bathroom.

And worse yet, my mind was swimming with him.

“Just let it go," I growled at myself, flopping over in bed and burying my head underneath the pillows.

If only I could just forget the way he made me feel that night, then I could feel indifferent.

***

THWACK.

“For Wednesday's meeting," Jeffery said, dropping a ream of papers on my desk. “Make sure your team is familiar with the sales charts for the last three quarters, and compile these into a new spreadsheet."

“Are they not in a spreadsheet already?" I asked, trying not to grimace at the stack.

Jeffery sighed. “Unfortunately Callan's dad—Sorry, THE Mr. Arison—was a bit old-fashioned. He liked his hard copies… thought they were more reliable or something."

“But hasn't Mr. Callan Arison been acting CEO for a year or so now?" I asked, confused. This type of work should have already been done long ago.

“The last couple of Chief Marketing Directors didn't get around to it," Jeffrey said, looking off to the side.

In other words, they were all fired or quit before they did this type of work.

I sighed. “Okay. I understand. I'll get it done before Wednesday."

Jeffery didn't move an inch. He itched his chin, as if he was about to deliver some bad news, but he wasn't sure if it was worth it.

“Actually," he said, “you'll need to share this information with your team tomorrow, so… you might want to get this done tonight."

My heart dropped. It was already three o'clock! This was probably at least six hours of work!

Clenching my teeth and trying to compile my frustration into determination, I looked Jeffery in the eye and nodded. “Yes, well, as long as it's not a problem that I can stay here after hours…"

“It's not a problem at all," he said with a gleam in his eye.

Was it just me or did he seem to get some kind of sick enjoyment from handing all of this work over to me?

***

Everyone was gone from the office by 6:30, and I was stranded in a sea of cold, dead air by myself with only the ticking of the clock on my wall to keep me company.

Every minute seemed to stretch on for hours. It had been a long time since I'd worked a twelve-hour day at the office. When I owned my own company, I did a lot of this sort of work at home. I wasn't leaving here any time soon, though. I still had a lot of work ahead of me, and I wanted to prove myself.

I wasn't sure what the circumstances had been with the last few people in my position, what drove them away from this job, but I couldn't let myself be like them no matter what. This was my chance to show everyone that I was capable under my own control.

But man was it exhausting…

Perhaps some of the rumors spread by Jonas and Rosie were true.... I pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on being the one to do the job correctly, the one to work here long term.

Around eight o'clock in the evening, I broke down and turned on some tunes to break up the silence. Most of the remainder of the work was brainless and tedious, which made for the perfect situational playlist: Hamster Wheel.

Hamster Wheel was a playlist I made for myself to get me through tasks that I had to get done but didn't find enjoyable. It was filled with early 2000s rock, which always made me feel zesty.

I was muttering along to Paramore when I felt a presence outside my office door. I froze and slowly grabbed for something sharp—well, the best thing I had was the stapler. I clenched it in my hands and peered over the top of my computer.

A tall, dark figure stepped into the room suddenly, nearly making me jump out of my chair.

“You're still here."

I gulped simultaneously feeling relieved and more nervous at the sound of Callan Arison's voice. I pulled myself together and nodded, gently and casually putting the stapler back in its spot.

“None of the other new girls stayed past six-thirty," he commented. He didn't sound impressed.

All at once, I became irrationally upset at him. Why did he think I was like them? Was he trying to get me to leave on my own? Was he trying to get under my skin or prove that I meant so little?

“Well, I'm not just another new girl," I muttered, hiding my glare behind my computer screen.

I could still feel him standing there, his scent slowly wafting towards me. 'Maybe I should go home and just come back early,' I wondered in my mind.

“Do you want to take a break? Have you eaten dinner yet?" he asked, perfectly cool and composed.