Confessions Of A Klutz: Confessions Series #1 Page 4

  “Can I get you another?” he asks.

  “Better not, I haven’t had anything to eat yet.” I push down off the stool, wobbling slightly. Shit, maybe I’ve had one too many beers?

  “We serve food in that section,” he says, pointing to the other side of the room.

  I snort. “Yeah, I’m not paying these prices. I can’t afford to go into bankruptcy.”

  His almost black eyes flash with laughter as his lips quirk. He’s kind of good-looking in that All-American vibe kind of way. I bet he was one of the popular guys at high school, the kind who would have laughed relentlessly when I fell over my own two feet. I scrunch my nose up the longer I look at him.

  Spinning around, I grip my notepad, stepping toward the door to go back up to my room when a head of dark-blond hair catches my attention.

  I shouldn’t go over there, I really shouldn’t. Why are my feet moving?

  It’s like I’m not in my own body, instead an alien has taken over, controlling all my movements and thoughts.

  “Well hello there.” I inwardly wince at myself as I grip the back of the chair opposite him, waiting for him to acknowledge me. He doesn’t, so I pull said chair out and plonk myself down, watching as he cuts his steak up, bringing it to his mouth.

  Oh, God, maybe I should have something to eat because that looks juicy as hell—the steak and his lips.

  Placing my notepad on my lap, I lean my elbow on the table, resting my chin on my palm. “Well, hello to you too, Vi. How are you? Good? Oh, awesome! I’m good, too.” I see his brow quirk but he doesn’t make any other movements. “How was your day, Vi?” I lean back, blowing out a deep breath. “Well, I have a boss who is a tyrant and I haven’t stopped all day. Do you know how hard the copy machine is to work? Why the hell does it have two thousand forty settings? Whatever happened to one button to copy the piece of paper you put in there?”

  My gaze settles on his hand as it grips the knife. “How was your day, Mr. Taylor?” I wait for him to answer. He puts a forkful of potatoes in his mouth, chewing slowly as he stares down at the screen of his cell. Man, he’s so freaking rude! I’m about to push my chair back and stand up to go back to my room, but something propels me forward to keep talking.

  “Me?” I deepen my voice and his fork stops halfway to his mouth. “I had to sit in so many meetings, being all… bossy.” I roll my eyes, puffing out my chest. “It’s so tiring being the big bad boss.”

  Yes! Finally, he looks at me.

  I offer him a small smile, waiting for him to answer me… but he doesn’t.

  Oh, my freaking Lord.

  “You know, you’re kind of rude,” I state, picking up his glass of water off the table and taking a sip. He places his knife and fork down on his plate gently as he leans back, watching me. “Talking to you is like trying to get blood out of a wall… wait, that doesn’t sound right.” I frown, looking off to the side. “Stone! Blood out of a stone.” I shake my head at myself, chuckling.

  Placing the water back down on the table, I pull the pad of my finger along the condensation that is gathering around the outside of the glass.

  “Are you gonna eat that?” I point at his half-eaten steak, waiting for some kind of signal from him.

  He pushes it toward me before picking up his cell. I dive for the knife and fork, cutting a piece off and bringing it to my mouth. “Oh my God!” I close my eyes, relishing in the taste. “This is sooooo good!” Opening my eyes, I cut another piece off and shove that in my mouth too. “There must be something in the New York water because everything tastes better here. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten all day.” I continue to eat, not bothering to look at him, knowing he isn’t paying attention to me. “I went to that food place a few doors down from the office today for lunch, and all they had was sushi. Obviously you need to buy your lunch at breakfast time to get something decent. I don’t want slimy raw fish anywhere near me.” I shiver, remembering the way it felt in my mouth. Ack! “All I wanted was a sandwich!” I pop the last piece of steak in my mouth, placing the utensils down before leaning back, resting my hand on my stomach. “I’m so stuff—”

  “Do you ever stop talking?” I jump out of my skin at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to talk, and when I look up, I see a slight smirk on his face. Maybe he has been listening after all?

  “You were listening to me?” I ask, leaning forward, my voice a mere whisper.

  “How could I not?” He leans forward, matching me. “You talk a mile a minute and never shut up. Don’t you get tired of hearing your own voice?”

  “Sometimes.” I shrug, bringing my hands forward. I flinch when I knock the knife and fork off the plate, the clanging sounding around us with so much force I’m sure it’s going to break the plate. “Crap on a stick!”

  I scramble to pick up the fork that bounces off the edge of the table, banging my head on the underneath as I try to sit back up.

  “Jesus,” Mr. Taylor huffs. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

  “Well…” I swallow, placing the fork on the table as I push the chair back and stand up, taking ahold of my notebook. “You technically didn’t bring me here.”

  “No, you’re right. I didn’t. You decided to accost me while I was eating dinner and talk me to death.”

  I grin big and wide before bowing. “You’re welcome.” Straightening my back, I wave. “Catch you later, boss.”

  I make it halfway to the door before I hear his deep chuckle and my grin gets wider. Maybe he’s not such an asshole? I still have a few hours to decide for sure, but I’m leaning more toward him not being one, I mean, he did share his steak with me.

  Chapter 4

  Confession #56: I sneezed in my crush’s face.

  “Cousin!” I hear her before I see her.

  Whipping my head around, I spot her bright-blue hair across the bar and throw myself up into a standing position.

  “Ella!”

  We impact like two trucks, air rushing out of both our chests at the collision, but we don’t let go as we squeeze the life out of each other. We start to sway left and right gently before breaking out into a full-on dance, our arms still wrapped around each other.

  “I missed your frizzy hair!” she shouts down my ear.

  “And I missed your big feet!” I shout back before pulling away.

  “Ugh, look at you, you look so… normal.” I scoff at her assessment. I may look normal but I’m far from it. I’m a weirdo, but I wear the badge with pride.

  “And you look like Marge Simpson.” I raise a brow before we both burst out into laughter.

  She pulls me in for another hug, this one not lasting as long before she pulls me back toward the bar where I was nursing my drink.

  “I’ll have a Screaming Orgasm,” she tells the bartender before turning around and scrunching up her nose at my drink. “What the hell is that?”

  “Beer.” I lift the bottle to my lips, taking a pull. “I have work tomorrow.”

  She pouts as her drink is placed in front of her. “I’m so glad I can work whatever hours I want.”

  I nod in acknowledgement. Ella is a graphic designer who works from her apartment. I know for a fact she pulls twenty-hour days sometimes, so the whole “setting your own hours” thing isn’t as great as she makes it sound.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been here for four days and I’m only just seeing you.”

  “I know.” I place my beer down. “Work is ridiculous, I actually have to do stuff.” I roll my eyes. “And my desk is right in front of the CEO’s office; it’s a nightmare.”

  “Uh-huh.” She smirks at me and I know what’s coming before she— “How many disasters have you had so far?”

  “Ugh, don’t even get me started.”

  Four days I’ve been here and so far, I’ve ripped my skirt and had to walk around with safety pins holding it together; tore my feet to shreds from my new heels; my second day I managed to spill coffee all over the tablet I was given; then today I tripped
over my own feet as I was walking into a stall in the bathroom. My head went right into the bowl, soaking not only my hair but my blouse which made it see-through to add to my embarrassment.

  “Oh, God, I see nothing’s changed.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head, swallowing another mouthful of beer before I tell her, “I can only stay for one, I have a shit ton of work to do before tomorrow.”

  “What?” Her brown eyes widen, her blue curly hair batting back and forth as she shakes her head at me. “No way, you’re staying for at least another two beers and three shots.”

  “El—”

  “Don’t ‘Ella’ me,” she reprimands, pointing at my chest. “I haven’t seen you for eight years, it’s been way too long.”

  She pushes her bottom lip out and bats her eyelashes. She knows I can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes. Goddamn traitor.

  “Fine!” I throw my hands up in the air. “But we have to be sensible, not do a repeat of graduation night.”

  Her lips spread into an evil smirk before she spins around, shouting, “Four shots of tequila!”

  Shitballs—she brought out the big guns.

  * * *

  My neck moves back and forth of its own accord, my arms waving about beside me as “I’m Sexy and I Know it” blasts through the speakers of the bar. Ella is dancing like a maniac beside me, her head thrown back as she thrusts the air, slapping her hand on an invisible ass before she does a little jump and shuffles up behind me.

  The room spins slightly after having a fourth shot of tequila. It’s fair to say the tipsy train came and went and I jumped head first onto the wasted platform.

  The song switches, the start of the classic “Fire Burning” by Sean Kingston comes on and Ella squeals down my ear.

  “I love this song!”

  “Me too!”

  I spin around and we both start to shout the lyrics, our tone completely off as sweat rolls down our faces from the exertion of jumping around like a couple of toddlers who just ate a giant tub of candy.

  The makeshift dance floor we’re on is empty apart from us, and when I spin around in a circle with my hands over my head, I find us being watched. Any other time—like maybe when I’m sober—I’d be embarrassed, but right now I couldn’t give a flying fuck.

  Nothing matters: not having to get up at six in the morning, not knowing I’m going to have a hangover—nothing, because I’m having the most fun I’ve had since… well, since I last saw Ella.

  We’re plunged into silence as the song finishes and I stop to catch my breath before the next one comes on. Ella disappears and comes back with a shot.

  “Last one,” I tell her.

  I expect her to ignore me, but when she nods in reply, I take the shot after licking the salt off my hand, finishing off with the slice of lime and a shudder.

  She takes the shot glass from me before she shouts, “I wuv you, you dnow dat? It’s been long time!”

  I giggle at her slurred words. “Awww, I love you, zoo!”

  We both widen our arms, hugging each other like long-lost lovers, swaying on the dance floor. We’re both barefoot and if we weren’t absolutely wasted we’d never do such a thing.

  She pulls back before holding her cell up. “I’ll call Chad… ride.” She jabs her finger on the screen several times before finally holding it against her ear.

  I nod as “Where Them Girls At” by David Guetta blasts out of the speakers. I do a little hop and jump. This is my favorite song right now!

  I start body popping, throwing my limbs in every direction as I watch Ella talk on her cell. Her lips are pulled up into a giant smile, and for a second I’m jealous she’s found the love of her life—her words, not mine.

  A flush mars her cheeks and it jars me for a second, causing my leg to slip from underneath me. Her gaze catches mine at that exact moment, her eyes widening at the same time as her hand comes up in the international stop sign.

  “Vi!”

  I move all of my weight to the left, trying to stop myself from landing like a sack of potatoes on my back, but that’s the biggest mistake I could’ve made.

  I can see it happening before it does and I go down like a two-hundred-eighty-pound fighter who’s just been knocked out. My neck and shoulder hit off the edge of the thick wooden table with so much force it makes my breath catch.

  My right hand comes out, trying to lessen the impact but it doesn’t help because when I finally hit the dirty bar floor, all of my breath is completely knocked out of me.

  Closing my eyes as I lie spread eagle on the floor, I concentrate on my breathing. I try to take stock of my injuries as I open my eyes, seeing Ella standing above me, her eyes wide and shocked but her lips pulled up into a grin that’s sure to turn into laughter at any second.

  “Oh, God, Vi!” Yep, here it comes.

  She throws her head back, her laughter louder than the music playing through the speakers, and when I turn my head to the left, I see three guys sitting around the table that just attacked me, various expressions on their faces.

  “Don’t say it,” I warn El as she slams her hand on the table, her laughter taking over her whole body as she gasps.

  “Three hours! That’s all it took!” She wipes away the tears rolling down her cheeks as she stumbles, the tequila obviously taking effect.

  I’m about to push myself up when the table above me wobbles as she leans all her weight on it, alcohol splashing me in the face as a glass tips, soaking through my top and making me smell even worse than I already did.

  Fuck my life and my stupid limbs.

  Chapter 5

  Confession #81: I slipped on a banana skin… an ACTUAL banana skin!

  I walk gingerly into the small break room, my hands shaking as I reach out for the refrigerator handle, pulling the door open and wincing at the reverberations it sends up my arm, neck, and shoulder.

  Taking a bottle of water, I head back to my desk, the fluffy socks I’m wearing keeping my feet warm. There was no way I could handle wearing my heels all day today, especially not after last night.

  I don’t remember anything after I was covered with drinks. I woke up this morning in so much pain, a monster hangover, and a craving for a slice of pizza. All signs of a good night.

  Everything took twice as long as I got ready, but I still made it to work on time. Now it’s just after 3 p.m. The pain in my shoulder is unbearable but I daren’t say anything to Mr. Taylor because he has two meetings this afternoon he needs me to attend.

  Sitting back in my chair, I slowly reach into my purse for some painkillers, popping four into my mouth and taking a glug of water to wash them down, groaning when I twist the lid back on the bottle.

  When I spot Mr. Taylor standing up and grabbing his suit jacket, I do the same and pick up my tablet, holding my left arm against my middle because it hurts like a bitch to keep it by my side.

  He’s silent as he walks out of his office, his gaze flicking to me quickly before he tilts his head for me to follow him. I do, getting into the elevator and riding up one floor to the conference rooms.

  This floor is much the same as the one below only not as many offices as there are four large conference rooms. We head to a smaller one where two men are sitting with a woman next to them.

  I know who they are on account of being in charge of Mr. Taylor’s schedule. The company he wants to buy off these people is about to go into foreclosure and the only way he can save it is by breaking it down and selling off the parts.

  That’s the main grievance during the meeting. They don’t want it to be broken down, but even I can see it’s the only way to make some money back from the business. If they don’t sell to Taylor Industries, they won’t get half of the amount he’s offering.

  Finally, after ninety minutes and a hell of a lot of wincing and biting my tongue to stop groaning in pain, they sign the contract.

  Mr. Taylor shakes their hands before they walk out of the room, leaving me with a grinning hunk of man standing t
hree feet away.

  “I love closing deals,” he says to nobody in particular.

  “I can tell,” I state, standing up and gritting my teeth.

  He turns to face me, his gaze boring into mine as he frowns. I swallow at the intensity. When he’s giving you his full attention, it’s jarring and almost too much. I want to both look away but beg him not to stop.

  His frown slowly dissipates as he continues to stare, and when his gaze flicks all over my face, I bite my bottom lip. He zones in on the action, the muscles in his neck tensing as he watches me for a beat longer before taking a step back.

  He rubs the back of his neck, pinging his gaze to the wall of windows behind us as he clears his throat. “We have a meeting with the head of departments,” he says, but doesn’t make a move.

  “I know,” I whisper, afraid to talk too loudly.

  What the hell is going on? Is my boss giving me the eye? Because I’m definitely giving it to him.

  “We should… erm…”

  He focuses those dark-blue eyes back on me, a rainbow of emotions running through them before he shutters it all off and spins around, heading out the door and leaving me to follow.

  That was...

  I’ve never been so turned on and in so much pain all at the same time, and I have no idea what to do or say, so I follow him to the conference room two doors down.

  Everyone is waiting when I walk inside a couple of seconds after him. He sits at the head of the table with me on his left. He doesn’t acknowledge me as he starts to talk to everyone, asking for updates from each department.

  Once we get to the man who’s sitting to my left, I feel a bead of sweat running down my temple. Even shuffling on the seat is too much pain for me to handle. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much agony before.

  Not when I broke my ankle skipping, not when I was riding down a hill on my bike and the front wheel got caught in a rabbit hole and I went over the handlebars, dislocating my shoulder. Not even when I broke my cheekbone when I fell into the side mirror of a car.