4: St-stalker?

My first instinct was to push him off but he grabbed my wrist before I could slip away, dragging me down so fast I landed on top of him, my tits pressed against his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I snapped, struggling to pull back.

He stared at me like I just committed a crime. His voice exploded. “How the hell could you do this to me?!”

I froze. My body stiffened against his. It was already worse that this bastard has showed up to the one place I could clear my head but I needed mother earth to open up and swallow me because the fucking bastard had known it was me all along, shit I'm going to throw up.

“You better show up tomorrow,” he barked, jaw clenched. “I swear, Hazel. I don’t care what the fuck this is. You better resume like nothing happened.”

I shoved at him again, angrier this time. “Get off me! I have every right to quit working for an asshole like you.”

“No,” he hissed, pulling me right back. “You quit your job to whore around? This? This is what you left for?!”

I snapped.

I pushed off his chest, stood up fast and slapped him across the face. The sound cracked through the room.

His head jerked slightly, eyes wide. I never thought I'd talk back to Alan let alone slap the bitch across his face.

“Don’t you ever call me that again,” I shouted, my chest rising fast. “You bitch-ass motherfucker. You smug, manipulative piece of shit.”

I could hear his breathing getting heavier by the minute, I knew it was the last thing he expected but he didn't budge, getting up to his feet, his reddened eyes fixed on me.

“Shut the fuck up!” I turned toward the corner and started grabbing my things off the floor, yanking straps into place and stuffing things into my bag with shaking hands. “You don’t get to speak to me like that just because you paid for something you didn’t even understand.”

“You were on my lap five seconds ago, and you knew who I was, you don't get to act like a-”

“And now I want to throw up,” I fired back without turning around.

“Do you know how stupid you look right now?” he yelled. “You’re going to throw away your entire career over some glitter and fake power?”

I spun around fast. “Don’t act like you ever respected me when I was in your damn office getting you coffee and watching you throw tantrums over paperclips. Don’t pretend you ever gave a single shit.”

“I am not pretending, I do not give a shit, is it more pay you wanted, you could have asked for it!” he raised his voice.

I zipped my bag shut and slung it over my shoulder, “you fucking asshole, it's like talking to a brick wall, what was I expecti, get the fuck out of my face.”

I turned toward the door.

“You think you can walk out after this and everything will be fine?” he said. “No company will ever work with you after this!”

I stopped at the doorway. My fingers curled tight around the handle.

“Do it,” I said without turning back, “see if I care.”

I yanked the door open and walked out before he could say another word.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I pressed my palms against my face as the taxi rolled through the street.

My stomach was doing flips. My head was pounding.

How the hell was I supposed to recover from that? The slap, the insults or the fact that I almost gave Alan Wood a blowjob and he knew it.

Fuck.

I climbed out in front of my building and paid the driver with trembling fingers.

My legs felt numb as I climbed the stairs. I just needed my bed, darkness, silence, just five minutes to breathe.

I opened the door.

Moaning. Loud, unfiltered moaning.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I stepped into the apartment and froze. My roommate Frank was on the couch, shirt half off, pants around his knees, going to town on some girl who clearly had no shame if she was sleeping with Frank of all men.

“Frank?!” I yelled.

He jolted like he’d been electrocuted and scrambled to pull up his pants. “Shit, shit, Hazel...I thought you weren’t coming back until five in the morning!”

“You have a whole damn bedroom!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “What the fuck, Frank?! I eat on that couch!”

Frank and I had been friends since middle school and when we both moved to Florida after college and has been roommates for the last four years. He was best friend and from the look of things, an asshole.

The girl squeaked and grabbed a pillow, burying her face like I couldn’t still see her legs sprawled out like a damn yoga class.

Frank winced. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought you were still at work.”

His eyebrows furrowed as if he was wondering which information he had to process.

“Yeah, well, I quit, got insulted, sexually humiliated, and now I’ve walked into this, so congrats. You’ve just made a shit day worse.”

“You what?!”

“I'm not going to have a conversation with you with an erect dick in my face,” I snapped at him.

I stormed down the hallway to my room and slammed the door behind me. I dropped my bag to the floor and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Could this day get any worse?”

I didn’t mean it literally but apparently the universe was on crack tonight.

I turned toward the window to shut the blinds and froze.

A tall figure was standing across the street. Just… standing there. Arms crossed, head tilted up, watching ms.

My breath caught in my throat as I stepped closer, heart hammering.

It was Alan.

He followed me home.

I stumbled back from the window, mouth open, hands shaking.

What the actual fuck.