Having a hot boss isn"t complicated or confusing at all,
Said no one ever"
But all I have to do is resist for a few months.
Come January, I"m flying to Paris to chase my dream of being an artist,
Too bad I can"t have my treat and eat it, too.
I forgot to mention" My hot boss was also my high school crush.
First, I wanted to crush him with gooey affection.
In the end, I just plain wanted to crush him.
Now he"s back, and he might as well have "do not touch" printed on his chest.
One tiny question: would it count if I didn"t use my hands"
Let me answer my own question. Yes, Emily, you raging horndog, it counts. Besides, my dream is practically waiting for me like a perfectly wrapped, shiny little package if I can just behave. I"d be an absolute idiot to risk that, and I have a long, proud history of not being an idiot to protect.
Unless it"s kind of like when you do really well in class all semester so you can afford to flunk a test at the end. Three months is a long time, and if he"s the one giving me the big, fat, dirty "F", it does add a little dose of temptation to the equation.
But all I have to do is one quick job for him. A few posters and a few props for a big Halloween party that he"s hosting.
Then I just walk away from his dreamboat eyes and perfect body, grab a plane, and forget about all the beautiful children we could"ve squeezed inside our white picket fence.Books in Series:Objects of Attraction Series by Penelope BloomBooks by Author:Penelope Bloom Books
Droplets of water snailed their way down the passenger window of Lilith"s car. She was pretty much my only real friend, and she was also my only access to private transportation around the city. I was admittedly over-bundled against the light chill of the early Fall morning, but I"d been waiting all summer to wear my comfy clothes, and I could always peel some layers off if I got hot.
I ran my fingertips over the letter in my jacket pocket. I"d made such a habit of carrying it around and re-reading it that I"d ended up turning the paper soft, but I still brimmed with equal parts excitement and dread when I touched it. The letter meant a new start. A chance to take a real step toward my dream. For years, it felt like I"d been circling the idea of becoming a real, professional artist with about the same drunken lack of direction as a toddler on a bike with one training wheel. I never could just go in a straight line, and every time I thought I was getting closer, I"d zip right past it and have to circle around to start the process all over again.
This time was going to be different. The letter in my jacket was that straight line. It was a direct flight, and even I couldn’t mess this one up. I just had to show up at the airport in January. It would be as simple as breathing. Then again, I had sleep apnea, and apparently breathing wasn’t always the simplest thing in the world for me, so that was a bad analogy. The point was, I could do this.
It was my favorite time of year. It was Fall. Summer was over, or at least coughing up its final, dying words. I knew summer was supposed to be the best. It was the time of swimsuits, parties, picnics, and throwing a frisbee to your golden retriever in the park. Yeaah! Go, Summer! Except that had never been my reality. For me, Summer was underboob sweat, staying in all day because I’d rather not melt outside, and getting the yearly sunburn that reminds me why I don’t ever want to get a sunburn again. Oh, and the influx of air conditioner commercials about “beating the heat” that pop up on the radio.
Well, screw you very much, Summer. It was over for another year, and now it was the time of horror movie marathons and for M&Ms to put out their Halloween themed commercials. The leaves were turning every shade of yellow, orange, and red you could imagine. Rainy morning or not, I couldn"t help feel the familiar excitement of the coming holidays. This morning had been the day I waited for all year"the one where you can feel the change as soon as you step outside. The air had that crisp, energizing quality that made me want to tackle my day, even if tackling my day should’ve had the appeal of tackling a three-hundred pound, sweaty man with patchy body hair.
I’d always loved Halloween. Maybe not so much for the holiday itself, but more because it was the first wave of the cold-weather holidays I spent all year looking forward to. Except for this year, they’d be more than just another round of holidays. They’d be the last few months before I flew overseas and started art school in Paris. No matter how many times I thought about it or how often I re-read the acceptance letter, it still didn’t seem real.
"Stop looking so happy over there," Lilith groaned. She wore a thick bar of eye-liner, a perfectly straight row of black bangs, and a black lace choker on her pale, slender neck. She had the perfect porcelain skin and features of a beauty queen, but she wore a constant expression that let you know, without any shadow of a doubt, she resented the fact that she had to exist.
If she had to be here, she"d make sure the universe knew it had made a mistake.
I"d had the good fortune of meeting her in high school, and we"d been unlikely friends ever since. Maybe it was because she only survived school from my notes and study help, or maybe it was that I"d managed to save her from the worst of the bullies she seemed to attract. Either way, I liked her, and I guess it was for the same reason people inexplicably liked cats. Want to poop on my pillow because I went out of town for a day" Want to pee directly outside your litter pan even though it"s perfectly clean" Or maybe you want to just make sure gravity still works for the tenth time this week and knock my drink to the floor. That was Lilith, well, minus the bathroom habits, as far as I knew. Deep down. Deep, deep, down, I knew she still needed affection just like everyone else. And I liked how hard she tried to pretend she didn"t.