By a Thread

by Lucy Score

I basked in her disdain.

“Can I get you a drink?” Rude Sex Hair was back. “I don’t know. Can you?” I shot back. “We’re fresh out of the blood of children, Satan. How about something that matches your personality?” She was saying the words nicely. Sweetly even. “I’ll have a⁠—” “Unsweetened iced tea,” she filled in for me. Bitter. Boring. Bland.

“Is this one of those places where you pay people to be assholes to you?” I asked my mother. “Oh, honey. I’m doing this for free.” Sex Hair batted thick lashes in my direction. I opened my mouth to destroy her.

“Shouldn’t someone your age have a real job by now, Maleficent? Because obviously you’re not good at this one.”

Was grumpy and rude suddenly the new hot? My vagina seemed to think so.

My dear, adorable, elderly neighbor had two great loves in this life:

“Can Charm—your son fire me?” I asked. Her smile was feline. “No. Dominic can’t fire you.” “Okay, then. Do I have to be nice to him?” She leaned back in her chair, considering. “I think you should have the relationship you feel most comfortable having with my son.”

“You stick to your ring of hell, and I’ll stick to mine,” I agreed. “Perfect solution.” She yanked the conference room door open.

“Basically relationships can’t exist between executives and underlings,” Gola said.

“Would someone see about getting Sausage Fingers here a quieter way to take notes next time?” I said to the room in general. There were actual audible intakes of breath. “And if someone could see about getting Charming here a nicer personality that he could try on for meetings, that would be great,” she shot back.

“You type like a Clydesdale.” “You know, you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled once in a while,” she mused, fluttering her lashes. No wonder women hated it when men said that.

“Your maturity peaked in preschool.” “Aww, did Pouty Man Face get his feelings hurt?” “You’re fired, Maleficent.” “Good luck with that, Charming.”

I tapped the folder again. Debating. What the hell. I had a few minutes for an argument.

“Just keep being your belligerent self, and sooner or later, my mother will realize she made a terrible mistake.” “I don’t know about that. She kept you around.”

I leaned in. “Quit.” “Make me.” “I fully intend to.”

“Hey, Mal, why don’t you try sexually harassing men on your own time?” Ally piped up, leaning over her wall. “Some of us are trying to eat here, and your praying mantis routine is nauseating.”

“I was just stating the obvious. I don’t sit around thinking about you, Maleficent.” Lies.

I held up my bargain basement, pay-as-you-go, not-so-smart phone. “What the hell is that thing?” he asked. “A calculator?”

“You have too many annoying opinions.” “Take it up with your mother,” she said cheerfully. “Why don’t we play a game where we sit in silence for the entire ride back?”

Me: That sounds more realistic. I was worried you’d somehow managed to activate your soul. Dominic: One must have a soul in order to activate it. I worked up a smile as I stared at my screen. Was he being funny? On purpose? Me: Are you drunk? Or do you only sprout a personality after dark? Or wait, is this Greta?

Dominic: Are you coming into work Monday or not? Me: As long as you swear never to wear a vest again. Don’t ruin this fetish for me, Charming. I’ll hate you forever.

Today, I was keeping my fucking hands off my fucking cock and my fucking mind off fucking Ally. End of story.

Harry was silent, and I looked up. He was sniffing the air. “You smell that?” he asked. I knew where this was going. “I do not.” “I do. It’s strong. Here. Let me waft it toward you,” he said, flicking his hands at me. “That’s the smell of bullshit.”

“There’s a fine line between annoyance and ‘damn, I really want to get that naked,’” he pointed out.

I want you to know that despite the fact that I find you interesting, intelligent, infuriating, and very, very attractive, I’m not going to pursue any kind of relationship with you. I want you to feel safe at work. I don’t want you to think that I’m going to drag you into a copy room and fuck you against office equipment. I don’t want coworkers whispering behind your back because you had the misfortune to catch my eye. I don’t want your reputation torn to shreds just because I wonder what you look like naked. And, yes, I do think about that. And, no, I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Being around you feels like a never-ending boxing match, and I keep getting hit in the nuts.”

“Don’t overestimate my control or underestimate your appeal, Ally.” And just like that, I was back in Put Your Dick in Me Town. “Geez, Dom.”

“Is DEFCON One or Five worse?” I asked in a squeak.

I really needed to stop consuming dairy products. This had to be some kind of hormonal effect from too much glorious cheese.

“And this is exactly why we’re not going to do this in person,” he said softly. “Gah,” I croaked again. His lips, that firm, mean line of them, lifted just a little, and I felt an explosion of dairy hormones in my core. “Fine. Email then,” I squeaked. “On personal time from personal email accounts,” he said.

Prince of Nightmares,

This isn’t working. I’m imagining cute little Dominic looking up to his teacher with those baby blues asking for help.

Not being able to stop thinking about you

They rate your scary hotness on a scale of 1 to 10, and you’ve never been below a 13. They swoon down glass doors when you walk past them in the halls.

I’d shown her my cards. Admitted my sins. Confessed my fears.

Every. Fucking. Day.

dammit, why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut when this woman was in the room? Maybe I needed therapy. A 12-step program.

Goddammit. I shouldn’t have messed with her by wearing the vest yesterday. She’d outgunned me.

I hated it when she walked away from me. It always felt like she took the light and heat with her. I added that to my Hate List.

I leaned in with her, just wanting to be closer to her. There was something about her that lured me in like a siren yet made me feel… safe. Comfortable. Fucking hard.

By the way, from my sex to yours, a dick pic is not the right way to start a conversation.”

“I’m not mentally prepared for another round of honesty with you,” I confessed. “Tough shit. Spill it, Maleficent, or I’m not letting you out of here.”

“I want you to suffer the way I suffer,” he said, his breath hot against my ear.

“We’re both on dates, and you’re telling me that if I quit my job—a job that is essential to my family’s survival—that you’ll be happy to fuck me,” I summarized.

“I can’t afford to start over again.”

Panic danced its way down my spine. If he walked in here and demanded to see me, I didn’t trust myself to not do something stupid. It was fifty-fifty on whether I’d punch him in the face or just go straight for his zipper with eager hands.

Charming: You can’t run forever. We will have this conversation sooner or later.

“Shut up, Charming. Here’s what we’re going to do moving forward. Absolutely nothing. We will be polite at work. We won’t text or email or chat or spar or fight. We won’t ever be alone. We will never get coffee.”

“Control yourself?” Dominic’s tone was deceptively neutral. But I knew, I knew he was anything but. “Yeah, Dom. I’m afraid I might walk right up to you and break your damn nose.” His laugh was dry, humorless. “You’re a hell of a woman, Ally.” “You’re damn right I am. And you’re the dumbass who missed out.” “I am,” he agreed.

I wondered if I was leaving a trail of body glitter behind me like I was a Questionable Life Choices Tinkerbell.