Five

"Damnit", I sigh. "What the fuck is wrong with me"? I mumble to myself... more like cussing at myself. The man.... the man is gorgeous. His dark hair and his dark eyes... he is quite tall and the voice...

I need to not go there.

He left 5 minutes ago, but the smell of cedarwood lingers. He asked me out for coffee yesterday and Pizza today. Both times I refused. I was kinda bitchy about it-- but it's for the best.

He seems harmless...

Why can't I get the man out of my head?! I can't get over how my body responded to him yesterday when we accidentally grabbed for the same document. It was just a brief moment where our hands touched, why does any of this matter?

Maybe next time... if there is a next time... next time he asks me out for coffee, maybe I should accept.

Finally, I am alone in my office, and I grab a small vial out of my purse and head to the bathroom. I know that nobody else is here, but I feel ashamed of myself, and head into a stall and lock the door behind me. I grab my compact mirror and prepare two small lines of coke. My body is instantly jolted into blissfulness and I catch my second wind. I clean up my mess and check my nose in the bathroom mirror and head back to my office. I turn off my desk lamp, and stare out of the huge window at the city below. I have so much energy and I feel like I'm flying. I wonder which pizza parlor Jonathan went to? I'm not hungry, but I'm antsy and don't feel like being alone right now.

I grab the piece of paper off my desk and comtemplate calling him or texting... maybe texting is better...

I quickly dismiss the notion to contact him... I'm high as a kite. He can't see me like this.

Fuck.

There is no fucking way that I can be around him right now blasted out of my mind. He would surely tell everyone.

I find myself day dreaming about him. What it would feel like being wrapped in his arms, him kissing me, him touching me all over... Jonathan is a handsome man and I'm pretty sure there are mad women out there that are lined up to fuck him. The mere thought of him and his body over mine sends a shiver down my spine. The mere thought of his body over someone else... is too much to bear... why?

I quickly shake the notion out of my head. Jonathan is a business associate. Nothing more can come of my crush. I decide to call it a night and pack up my belongings and head home. I grab my bag and my purse and grab the piece of paper with Jonathans number and put it in my wallet. I accidentally knock over my water bottle. "Fuck", I yell. I reach under my desk to grab the cap and I see a small glass pill vial with a black top. "The hell"? This must have fallen out of his pocket when he went to grab his pen. I put the bottle in my bag and head home.

I get home around 8pm and I immediately lock the door and pull open my blinds. My penthouse is quiet and the city street below is covered with tourists, too much commotion.

I snort two more lines of coke and pour myself a glass of white wine.

A hot shower sounds wonderful right about now. This post nasal drip has left me with a horrible sore throat. One of the downsides of coke, but I would happily deal with it as long as I can escape my sorry excuse of a life for some moments of peace.

My shower does nothing to quiet the storm of emotions I am feeling tonight. My father has been fucking with me. Sending bouquets of roses to the office in a fake congratulatory way. His true purpose is to get under my skin. He doesn't care that I've landed an important account, or that I am planning expansion. The flowers are more of a fuck you and a slap in the face. He has been behind the scenes for months trying to sabotage me.

I dress myself in a tank top and a pair of shorts and put my wet hair into a ponytail. Today is Friday and I won't have to worry about leaving the apartment for two days. I plan to netflix and chill. Alone. What else is there for me to do?

I realize that this is my first weekend alone in over a year. Fucking David. I rifle through my bag for my bottle of xanax. I'm way too high and my mind is racing. I'm thinking of shit that I don't to be thinking about. I need to come down.

I spot the glass vial in my purse that I picked up from under my desk. These have to belong to Jonathan. They weren't there before he stopped by this evening. I eye the bottle and wonder what these pills are for and I snap a picture and do a search. Vicodin.

Interesting...

Maybe he has them for some pain or a pulled tooth? I'm thinking of logical reasons, but if that were the case, then why aren't they in a regular bottle from a pharmacist?

I stare at my own bottle of xanax and the bottles are very similar.

Does he have a habit? He seemed to be very alert and composed.

I need to figure out a way to give these back to him. He must be going crazy looking for them.