I was supposed to facilitate in presenting the final specs from the Batik Bohemian collection along with the product development team for the Friday staff meeting so I spent the morning preparing. BJ brought my chai and sat in my desk chair watching me rehearse/undressing me with his eyes.

When I finished my second run through, BJ began a slow golf clap. 

“I think you’ve got this under control, boss lady,” he said.

“Thanks, Blow Job!” I replied, giving a little bow. 

BJ smirked. “You know, I can see the outline of your thong through your skirt.” 

I turned back to my presentation board so he wouldn’t see me blushing. Aren’t thongs supposed to prevent panty lines? And I was wearing the most modest J. Crew pencil skirt – of course BJ had to turn it into something sexual. And I hate to admit it, but the comment gave me a feeling in my tummy that was not appropriate for work.

“Do you need any help from me?” he called when I didn’t respond.

“No,” I said, but he got up and starting walking toward me anyway. 

“You sure?” he asked, smirking. BJ had on a light blue button down with the sleeves pushed up ever so casually and those fucking amazing slacks. I wanted to rip his clothes off. 

“Actually,” I said, walking around him. “Why don’t you sort this stack of papers?

“Of course.” He took the papers from me and pulled up one of the upholstered side chairs to my desk so we were sitting across from each other.

I picked up my phone and saw that I had a text message from Eric. I was really surprised because I never expected to hear from him again.

It said, “Hey Reese. I’ve been doing some thinking and I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore. You’re a ton of fun, but we are in different places in our lives. I have no hard feelings toward you and I wish you the best.”

What the fuck. Did I just get dumped? I totally knew we weren’t going to work out and I was okay with it, but the text confirming it just made me feel rejected. I read it over several times. Different places in our lives? What does that even mean? 

“Everything okay?” BJ asked. 

“I’m fine,” I said, looking up. 

He smiled. “Well, yeah. I can see that.”

It felt nice to have some guy attention so I let him sit in my office for an hour telling me about his life in Georgia. He told me about his older brother who is getting married later this summer. BJ has had a secret crush on the fiancée ever since he saw her in a bikini when he was 16. He also told me about his parents, particularly his father who let BJ start drinking beer when he was 12. This sounded like bad parenting but he assured me that it was just a southern thing. 

At 11:30, Amanda poked her head in my office.

“Hey Beej, ready for lunch?” she asked. 

BJ gave me a wide eyed, frustrated look before saying, “Yeah, give me a minute.”

Amanda gave me a satisfied, if not, smug look. “Hey Reese.”

Lol okay. Whitney obviously rubbed off on her. I smiled as I took in my “competition.” Amanda is a Lily Pulitzer-and-pearl wearing sorority girl from New England. On paper, I’m sure she and BJ are perfect, but I can tell he’s too wild for her. She is adorable – with huge blue doe eyes, perfectly parted blonde hair and the most innocent round face – in a juvenile sort of way.

“Hi there,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” she said and was gone. 

“She’s so clingy,” he rolled his eyes. 

I smiled and waved him off. “Have fun!” 

The meeting went swimmingly and afterward Dave took Diana, Tracey from HR, and me out for drinks. I just love drinking on someone else’s tab.

That evening, Preston came over and we ordered Chinese. We gossiped, watched tv, and vegged out on my couch. So successful Friday night, I’d say.