Yet, here I am, truly unable to escape. He will be with me 24/7, whether I like it or not, because, well…he’s my boss.
I put the remaining takeout into the fridge before throwing my towel into the dirty clothes hamper and flopping into my bed.
Tomorrow is a new day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAX
It should becriminal to be awake at six in the morning. I’ve never been a morning person, and truthfully I never will be. Despite how many people say that you can change your sleeping habits or train your body, it’s just not a me thing. Thankfully, just down the street from my apartment is the best coffee shop. I’m not even joking—this place could rival an orgasm. It's that good. Okay, maybe not that good, but it’s my absolute favorite. Coffee and matcha alike, it’s all fresh and yummy. My choice today is an ube matcha with a shot of espresso, the perfect combination of sweet and creamy with that hint of earthiness and bitterness. My favorite, especially when I really need a pick me up. The extra shot of espresso really does the trick, and there’s an extra pep in my step as I enter the building.
“Good morning,” I say to the door attendant as I scan my badge in.
“Good morning. I’m afraid we haven’t formally met yet. I’m Chris.”
“Hey, Chris,” I say with my hand outstretched. He takes it, and we shake hands before I continue. “I’m Jax. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing plenty of you?”
“Well,” a laugh escapes me, “I hope not too much. A respectable two times a day will do, maybe four if I go to lunch.”
“Well,” he laughs too, “good luck with that idea. You have a good day, Mr. Jax.”
I take what he says into consideration as I get into the elevator, taking another sip of my matcha-coffee combination.
As the doors ding open, I’m met with his cologne filling the office. People are already at desks, their keyboards clicking away as they stare at their computer screens. It gives me flashbacks of my last job, and I hold back the shiver.
“Is he in yet?” I ask Becca as I pass her desk.
“No, not yet. He probably won’t be in for another thirty minutes or so. At least, that’s about what time he’s been arriving lately.”
I look at my watch, noting that I’m right on time at eight o’clock—we don’t work for free around here—and then head into his office.
It’s weird being in his space without him here. His scent still lingers, that fresh, masculine, justmmmscent I’d like to roll in.
His desk is littered with papers, an old coffee mug at the corner, but I feel weird? Like, do I just take care of this shit? What if it’s like an organized chaos thing, and as soon as I move one paper, his whole life will be thrown off?
I take the easier route, instead choosing to throw away the nasty paper cup of coffee, and then get my own life together.
With the calendar pulled out, I look over his schedule and then put a mint in my mouth. I’m trying to work out the anxious energy somewhere. There are meetings with the board—the head of the football portion of the magazine, dedicated time to meet with the editor, and more. I’m not sure how he finds the time to write his own pieces between all this, but I guess that’s probably part of my job now too.
This quiet me-time is nice; if I get it every morning, it would be a miracle. Especially today, these thirty minutes are especially helpful: a moment to get my head on straight, figure out what needs to happen, and formulate a plan of action.
As soon as the clock hits 8:30, he walks inside. It’s like he feels my presence, as his eyes immediately snap up and find me. Today’s outfit consists of navy blue slacks that once again hug his ass in a way I wish I could, a navy blue fitted jacket that comes off as soon as he rounds his desk, and a white button up. When the jacket comes off, he also rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, andgah damn.The veins are basically popping out of his forearms, the ink that marred his skin now covering even more. His arms are covered in a thick dusting of black hair, giving him an even more manly look in my eyes. I never thought I could think forearms are so fucking attractive, but here I am.
“Hope you don’t mind. The only reason I wore it so long yesterday was because I knew I was meeting you for our first formal sit down—first impressions and all. To be honest, though, it gets really fucking stuffy. I need room to move my shoulders and shit without feeling like I’m suffocating. Don’t feel like you need to be all suit-and-tie all the time either. I trust you’ll know the best times to dress up and when you’re able to wear slacks and a button up without the whole thing. Cool?”
He doesn’t even have to think about telling me twice, choosing to shrug out of my own jacket and roll my sleeves up. It’s May and sunny, perfect for me to be able to repeat his actions. It’ll also be nice for me to not have to drag my shirt along my skin every time I want to write something down. Weird little ticks like that will make my day that much longer.
“What’s up first for me?”
“Oh, right. It seems your first meeting is at 9:30 with the board, followed by a meeting with the editor at 11.”
“Got it. For future reference, please have all my notes sorted for me and ready to go so I know what each meeting is about specifically.”
“Yes, si— I mean Kai.”
I look up again, and he has these thin wire frames on. Those damn slutty little glasses.