jersey chasing slore.

On Friday I decided to reach out to Brady. A little part of me wanted to go completely missing from the face of the earth so he would think I got kidnapped or killed on Wednesday night when he let me go home alone drunk. But that seemed a bit dramatic and I’m trying to be more mature now.

So I texted Brady when I got off and said, “Hi.”

He replied, “Hey.”

I said, “Don’t you miss me?”

And he said, “Yes.”

Ugh. If he missed me then why was he ignoring me? I took a moment to myself so I didn’t start texting him things I would regret. A few minutes later, Brady called me.

“Hey you!” I answered cheerfully. I was actually really happy to hear from him even though I was mad that he ignored me.

“Hi,” Brady said. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Our weekly staff meeting was today and Dave nixed Whitney’s flea market idea because it’s going to cost too much money. And then during lunch, I found a gluten free bakery and I bought an entire chocolate cake since it’s healthy. So life is good,” I said.

Brady laughed. “Just because it’s gluten free doesn’t necessarily mean it’s healthy.”

“Why are you shitting on my parade?”

“I’m sorry. I’m on my way home from work, do you want me to pick you up?”

I told him I did then hung up so I could shower and get ready. I changed into ankle skinnies, a sheer top and my new booties then met Brady downstairs. He said the game was on and asked if I wanted to go to the bar to watch it. I didn’t know what game or even what sport he was referring to, but I’ll use any excuse to drink so I told him yes.

We went to some random place that wasn’t too crowded and got seats at the bar. I got a tequila sunrise and Brady got a beer and we watched a baseball game. Well, for a while we did. Then I got bored and ordered us shots. I asked him to tell me about work and he started to then someone scored a goal. Ugh.

After a while, the game went on commercial and Brady got up to use the bathroom. I ordered us another shot for when he got back then got out my phone. I had a new text message from Preston who said that Mr. Murphy told him he had a surprise waiting in his garage. I was texting him back “OMG SOUNDS LIKE A CAR!” when I heard someone say my name. 

I looked up and saw “Eric” the baseball player standing at the bar next to me. Wow. I literally hadn’t seen him since the last time we had sex. He leaned down to give me a hug and I hugged him back with one arm.

“How have you been?” he asked when we pulled apart.

I was kind of surprised because I completely forgot he even existed. He still looked just as scruffy and sexy as I remember in his baseball cap and fitted jeans.

“So, you guys didn’t make it to the World Series?” I asked sweetly.

Eric laughed. Brady appeared on the other side of him, but Eric was blocking his stool to sit down. Brady looked so tiny compared to Eric’s huge frame, but my boyfriend is just so much hotter.

Before I could introduce the two, Eric introduced himself and they shook hands. Suddenly, I felt really protective of Brady. Eric was sizing him up which was really unnecessary because even Stevie Wonder could see that he’s double Brady’s size. 

“It was good seeing you, Reese,” Eric said and took his drink from the bartender and walked away. 

“How do you know Eric?” Brady asked taking a drink from his cup of beer. He said it in kind of an amused way like he knows we hooked up. Have y’all seen that meme with Kermit the Frog drinking a cup of tea from the Lipton commercial? That’s what Brady looked like.

I obviously couldn’t tell him the truth because I don’t want him to think I’m some jersey chasing slore. “Just from around town. I ordered us more tequila shots!”

I insisted we take the shots and then Brady got back into the game. I ended up having way too much tequila and we had to leave. I woke up this morning in my underwear and booties. 

I can’t believe we ran into Eric last night. And I can’t believe he like hugged me and stuff. And by the way, Brady and I never talked about what happened on Wednesday or why he was embarrassed, but I have that on my to-do list today.

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what a fail.

On Tuesday I decided that I was going to make dinner for Brady. I don’t ever cook, but I thought it would be a nice gesture. I found a recipe for homemade ravioli on Pinterest that didn’t seem too complicated and made a grocery list for after work.

$170 later, I headed home with all the ingredients I needed (including a pastry wheel, a rolling pin, and a bottle of wine). I started with the pasta dough which seemed fairly easy – pour the flour on a flat surface, make a “well” for the egg yolks, oil and milk, mix.

Well, it didn’t work out like that. I didn’t want to touch the raw eggs with my bare hands so I tried to use a spoon. That obviously didn’t work. My dough came out super runny. I added more flour but it ended up crumbling into pieces. I tried again and decided that I would follow the recipe exactly by using my hands. I sucked it up and mixed the dough with my hands, but again it came out runny (later found out that I read the recipe wrong and should’ve added more flour, of course).

At this point, I was annoyed and decided I would start on the filling then come back to the dough. I was making a spinach and mozzarella filling and the first step was to wilt the spinach down with olive oil and garlic. Easy enough. I added the garlic and olive oil and then dumped the entire bag of spinach in the pan. My mom called and I excitedly told her about the meal I was making. I knew she would be proud.

She started telling me about how one of my favorite teachers from high school is under investigation for having sex with one of his students. I was shocked and realized that could have so easily been me. I flirted with him endlessly my junior and senior years because he was hot plus math was really hard. He never really budged or showed any interest (except buying a ton of cookie dough from me during our fundraiser for new uniforms). Maybe I just wasn’t hot enough for him to hook up with.

I was so engrossed in the conversation with my mom that I forgot all about the spinach on the stove until I smelled burning garlic. The pan was smoking so I told my mom I had to call her back. The majority of the spinach was black and burned with the garlic. How does that even happen?

By then, Brady was due in thirty minutes and my ravioli was nowhere near being done. What a fail. I knew that I had to cook something so I decided to stick with what a know how to make: grilled cheese. Plus that was all I really had time for. I had fresh mozzarella left from my ravioli disaster so I used it to make two sandwiches. I plated them with vintage Hermès plates with a basil leaf garnish. Chicest grilled cheese ever.

I buzzed Brady in and the first thing he said was, “Did you burn something?”

Ugh. Definitely should’ve opened a window.

“Are you ready to eat?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Mmm, yes. What did you make?” Brady said.

I led him to my tiny table and chairs. “Gourmet grilled cheese!” I squealed.

“Looks great.” Brady went to sit down, but I yelled for him to stop.

“I need to take a picture for Instagram,” I explained.

He waited patiently while I uploaded the photo of our food and wine (and my fabulously decorated table) with the caption “Made dinner for bae.” I immediately got several likes.

After we ate, we were still hungry so we made pizza rolls. I poured us more wine and we took it along with our pizza rolls and Oreos to the couch. We started watching some baseball game and stayed up talking until 1:00 AM. 

On Wednesday, I hung out with Preston and Dillon. We went to this natural tea place Preston has been dying to try and all their drinks are named stuff like “Happiness” and “Purity.” I got “Tranquility” because obviously that’s what I need in my life.

We sat outside and I told them about my latest bout of craziness with Brady. Preston obviously laughed for several minutes then gave Dillon a brief overview of my relationship with Brady.

“Poor guy. He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into,” Preston said, wiping his laughter tears away.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to let myself be vulnerable though. I think I’ve been so crazy with him because I have a guard up,” I said.

“Good for you,” Preston said and his face turned serious. “I don’t think he has any intention to hurt you, love bug. And if he does, just know that you have amazing friends who will help you slash his tires and hack into his Facebook.”

I laughed because that was true. You don’t even want to know what kind of trouble my friends and I got into in college.

Dillon spent the rest of the evening telling me his life story which would have been really annoying if it wasn’t completely entertaining. He said he’s 19 and moved here from San Diego. His house burned down two years ago and apparently his family’s insurance didn’t cover all the losses so they had to dip into his college fund and now he has no money to go to school. So tragic. He’s hoping to break into acting and dance and has been an extra in those awful Step Up movies. He moved to Chicago because of the theater opportunities and was homeless for his first few months here. Luckily he met a kind person who not only helped him pay for school, but also gave him a place to live. What a wonderful story.

I texted Brady while I was out and asked if he wanted to come over. He said he was working late so I invited Preston and Dillon over. I couldn’t help checking Jessica’s Facebook to see if she checked in anywhere or tagged Brady in anything. She didn’t. Is it unhealthy that I do that? I’ve been checking her page obsessively the last few days and all I see are pictures of her and her friends. I thought about deleting her, but then I won’t catch it if she does tag Brady in something.

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the intern.

On Monday morning we had a staff meeting to introduce our new bright eyed summer interns. I sat in the back of the conference room Instagramming my shoes (#shoesoftheday #rockstuds) because this had nothing to do with me. Afterwards, I met with Diana and Dave to discuss some details about the warehouse sale. They kept telling me how excited they were about the batik line and how they couldn’t wait to see what else I had in store.

Usually I work through lunch but I decided to go to the break room to make some tea and find a snack. I was standing in front of the vending machine trying to decide if I wanted an iced honey bun or a plain honey bun (honestly, I needed neither) when I heard someone say, “Just take forever why don’t you?”

I turned and standing behind me was one of the new ad team interns with a playful smirk on his face. He was tall and lean with dark hair that needed to be cut, sleepy eyes and an incredible jaw. He was wearing a pair of amazing fitting flat front slacks with a polo tucked in. Something about his look told me that he liked to drink cheap beer, smoke a ton of pot, and get crazy on the weekends. He was actually really effing hot.

“I’m still deciding. You can go ahead of me if you’d like,” I said. 

He stepped in front of me and as if reading my mind, got an iced honey bun. He locked eyes with me as he took a bite. 

“Mmmm. So good,” he said.

“That’s actually what I was going to get,” I told him. 

He held the honey bun out to me. “Want a bite?” 

I shook my head. “I’ll get my own.” 

He was blocking the vending machine so we both just kind of stood there looking at each other.

“What’s your name?” he asked after taking another bite. 

“Reese. What’s yours?” I replied. 

“Brandon. But people call me BJ.” 

“BJ,” I repeated. 

“Yeah. Like blow job.”

Normally an inappropriate comment like this would warrant a scoff and an eye roll, but the way he said it – so suggestively – made my face get hot. And it really pissed me off. 

“Do you know that I’m going to be your boss this summer, Brandon?” I finally revealed. 

He gave me a skeptical look. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

Blow Job smirked at me again. “Anything I can get for you, boss lady? Coffee?”

“Non-fat, no foam, Stevia – extra hot chai tea latte topped with a sprinkle of nutmeg. I don’t drink coffee,” I countered. 

“Oh yeah?” he said, smirking. 

“You have six minutes,” I added. 

BJ took a bite of his honey bun without taking his eyes off me.

“You’re out of your mind, Reese. This ain’t The Devil Wears Prada,” he said.

He was so cocky and douchey. Who gave him the right to talk to me – his boss – like this? I was kind of obsessed.

“Yes it is. You’re going to be my slave this summer, Brandon,” I said.

He finished his honey bun while staring me down. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He stared at me carnivorously for a few moments before heading toward the door.

“I hope you’re not a psycho boss, Reese,” BJ said before walking out. 

He has no idea.

After work I stopped by Kendra’s to say hi and to distract myself so I didn’t go home and text Eric. I’d decided that was going to give him a little bit of space. I knew he needed a break from me/my drunk counterpart so I was going to wait for him to contact me.

When I got to Kendra’s, John was there moving some of his things in. The place was in such disarray that it gave me anxiety. I told Kendra I had a lot of work to do a peaced out of there. 

On Tuesday, I got to the office and immediately started replying to emails as usual. I usually spend an hour or so catching up on what I missed/raping Pinterest then I get started on my day. I heard a knock on the door and found BJ standing there with a white Starbucks cup in his hand. 

“Morning, boss lady,” he said, walking to my desk. He sat the cup down and I quickly closed out of my Pinterest browser. “I brought your drink.”

I looked up at him, unsure of what to say. He had that playful smirk on his face. It told me that he was imagining what I looked with my clothes off and it made me blush. I never fucking blush. 

“This is about twenty hours late,” I finally said.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” BJ said. 

He stayed in my office for a while chatting. I found out that he goes to school at UGA and is in a fraternity, which is obvious. He is studying marketing and advertising – hence the internship and is living with a bunch of his friends in the city this summer. One thing about BJ is that he definitely knows how to talk to women. He says everything so sexually – like he was asking my favorite sex positions and if I wanted to try them out with him. I couldn’t decide if I loved him or hated him. 

After he left, I took a sip of the steaming hot chai goodness. I even tasted the hint of nutmeg. Somehow, this goofy kid had gotten my order exactly right. I was impressed.

I spent the day prepping for the warehouse sale on Saturday, keeping the ad team in check and avoiding hungry looks from BJ. After work, Eric called and invited me to sleep over. I can’t lie, I was relieved to finally hear from him. I packed my bag and changed into lululemon leggings and a v-neck. When we got to his condo, we made pasta for dinner and put in a movie. We didn’t mention Friday night at all.

Eventually, we retreated to his bed. We laid next to each other, on our backs, not saying anything or touching. It was weird and I wondered if Eric was still mad. But he’d invited me over and kissed me hello so that didn’t seen likely. I peeked over at him and he had one hand behind his head and he appeared to be sleeping but I knew he wasn’t. 

I laid there looking out the window for a moment wondering if I should just hop on him. He must’ve wanted to hook up too, right? And then I felt his hand creep across my tummy and in between my legs. He started rubbing me softly through my panties and it was exactly the right spot so I immediately started moaning. His hand quickened and became more urgent. I glanced over and he was still just laying there with his arm behind his head and his eyes closed. If anyone were to walk in, they wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening and that I was about to come hard as fuck. My legs started trembling and Eric – sensing how close I was – moved in quick, rough motions until I squealed with pleasure. And then he rolled over and went to sleep. It was kind of odd but absolutely satisfying.

*also: I will posting the Q&A Friday morning so comment, email, or tweet your last minute questions!

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