The Gay Delusion

4: The Ghastliness Delusion

A laugh bubbled out of him. 'That's a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one,' Lewis said with a roll of his eyes. His hand moved to the back of my head and gave it a gentle, three-second long massage before he wound an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

'Let's just head to the bed now, so we can avoid any more of the wrong kind of banging,' I mumbled, to which Lewis could only laugh at.

*

'You look stunning, Laina! Just look at that glow,' Kate remarked one lunchtime, two weeks after Lewis and I had begun our arrangement. We had been meeting up most evenings after work, usually at my flat, which was where he had stayed over one night.

'Er, it might actually be this new Estée Lauder tinted moisturiser I'm trying?' I fibbed, wary of Griffin standing nearby and using the photocopier, listening to our conversation even though his back was turned towards us.

Until recently, I had never believed in the power of sex. (Ew, I just died internally at that phrase. Mental note: never use it again, at risk of cringing to death.) But I did have the telling glow of someone who was satisfied in the bedroom department and reaping its benefits. While I had put on a full face of makeup every day for work until this week, I could now get away with just some tinted lip-balm, moisturiser, and a couple of coats of mascara, and I realised that I looked much better for it. The extra twenty minutes in bed in the morning which would usually be spent applying makeup were probably the best part of it all.

Kate nodded, believing me. 'You'll have to show me which one it is online at some point, your skin looks incredible.' She walked back into her office with a smile.

'That was such bullshit,' Felicity grinned at me once the door to Kate's office closed, reaching over and tugging at my fishtail braid which hung over one shoulder. 'That's so obviously the glow of having been shagged senseless on several occasions. I'm not wrong, am I, Emi?'

Emilie rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her pasta salad. 'That's such a vulgar way of putting it! But yes, you are looking radiant,' she agreed.

'So go on, tell us who it is, you sly dog!' Fliss pushed, making me burst out laughing.

'No one!' I insisted.

Felicity pouted. 'Don't lie, Laina! We won't tell anyone, will we?' she nudged Emilie in the ribs with her elbow, who let out a slightly surprised yelp.

I was almost grateful when Corinne slinked over to ask Fliss to help her with something, stopping Felicity in her interrogation of me. Over the last couple of weeks, I had come to learn firsthand exactly how Corinne had gotten her nickname.

Most days, she would walk over with a request for some help of some sort, and for some reason, it would usually be Felicity that she would ask. Her request for help would then somehow be twisted into a request for offloading some of her work onto someone else with an excuse (most recently the arthritis one, although goodness knew how she was getting away with it). The sole reason Felicity couldn't flip her off and tell her where to stick it was because, as I found out, Corinne was Kate's niece.

As much as I liked Kate, who even knew that nepotism was still so clearly in practise in the 21st century?

'Poor Felicity,' I murmured to Emilie, who nodded her assent.

The two of us watched as a twitch developed in Felicity's forehead at the effort it took for her not to smack Corinne around the face, resorting to furiously plaiting strands of her hair to prevent her hands from closing around Corinne's neck and wringing it.

'Why do you think Corinne's always specifically asking her?'

Emilie pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'I'm not too sure, actually. It's been this way for as long as I started working here, which was about eight months ago. What I'm more curious about is what Griffin sees in her,' she commented with a wry smile.

'What I see in who?'

The man himself walked over, probably at the mention of his name, tapping his recently photocopied stack of paper against the edge of Emilie's desk.

Emilie flushed in embarrassment and ducked her head at having been heard gossiping.

'We were wondering what it is you see in Corinne,' I said bluntly, making Emilie's downcast eyes snap to my face and widen in alarm behind her glasses.

They were the first words I had said to Griffin since I had left the White Hart last week; we had both been incredibly busy every day since, and our paths had never crossed since my first day.

Dimples appeared as Griffin smiled slowly, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'Why do you guys want to know?' His eyes, practically burning holes in my face, let me know that the question was mainly directed at me, his gaze steady and unfaltering.

I paused, thinking over what I said before I uttered any words. I didn't want to say the wrong thing and give Griffin the potential opportunity to grill me on anything, especially in front of Emilie.

'Go on - why? Are you jealous?' Griffin echoed my own words from the night I met him before I had the chance to speak, except he said it without the teasing tone I had used that day.

'Maybe you should shut up, actually,' I snapped immediately, as something that felt an awful lot like panic abruptly shot up my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He looked taken aback. I felt a small, strange sense of satisfaction at that.

Griffin quickly corrected his shocked expression to one more of neutrality. 'Why are you being so defensive? Who spat in your cereal this morning?'

'Nobody,' I retorted. 'I suppose I was just a bit grossed out with the fact you were all over Corinne the other day when you had barely asked me out three days before.'

Griffin's eyes narrowed a little. 'I didn't realise me going out for drinks with a female colleague would be such an issue to you. Plus, I know where you stand,' he said subtly. 'I don't really get what's up with you. Why are you being so...ghastly?'

I snorted at that. 'Ghastly? What century are you living in? Who even uses that word anymore?'

To be honest, I knew that ghastly was the perfect word to describe how I was currently acting. I was being downright ghastly. But something had suddenly clicked in my brain and I had developed the logic that if Griffin hated me, then maybe I would stop thinking for hours on end about what he was really like.

My insides fluttered with attraction every time I looked at the bastard, catching glimpses of him around the office, immersed in his work and clearly loving every second of it. Over the short course of my time here, I had grown to appreciate the extent of how hardworking he was, often staying behind after work and doing much more than was required of him, and that was something I had realised in the space of two weeks alone.

'Seriously, Laina,' Griffin said, his voice sharper.

Emilie considerately excused herself from her own desk, murmuring that she was just going to run to the restroom.

'This is ridiculous,' he continued, once Emilie was gone. 'You're not acting very professional right now.'

I blanched; his tone of voice made me feel as though icy water had just been thrown over me. 'Right,' I said stiffly. 'This won't happen again. Sorry.'

You could tell by the tone of my voice that I was anything but.

As Griffin walked away wordlessly, I scowled at his back, wondering how on earth we had gotten from there to here, and why hatred could never just be a simple thing.