Contractually Forbidden

2. Changes

"Jesus fuck!" Brendan groans as the monotonous alarm reverberates around the room. "Fucking shitty crap." His eyes aren't even open. Monday mornings were never the best for him.

It's 6am. I sit up in bed and turn the main light on.

"Fuck man! What are you doing!" Brendan grunts.

"Grow up. Get up." I grumble, peeling the heavy duvet off my body as I swing my legs around, planting my feet on... something wet.

What the fuck? I think to myself. I look down to see the white rug next to my bed soaked with a brown liquid. My coffee. Looking around, I see my glasses and laptop still in the bed from the night before.

Ah. I say to myself. That makes more sense.

I pick up the cup and set it on the bedside table; retrieving my laptop and glasses I step over the soaked rug and make my way to the kitchen. By this point, Brendan is not far behind me, his brown hair tousled from the bed, his shorts hanging off his slight waist.

"Morning sunshine." I sing, turning on the coffee machine.

"Why were you working late?" He accuses me. I freeze.

"I, uh. I wasn't." I stutter as I put the pod into the coffee machine. Brendan and I almost split about a year ago when I became obsessed with my job. I became an insomniac, working from the bedroom all through the night. He made it very clear that it would not be something he tolerated.

"Why were you whispering on the phone to David at 2am then? Unless there something you're not telling me?" He raises one eyebrow as the coffee starts to pour into the cup. I can't lie to him.

I give in. "Fine. I was working. I had to complete a transaction before I begin mentoring today." I still hadn't told him about my potential promotion. I just know he would lose it.

Brendan chuckles. "Poor soul." He takes my coffee and leaves the kitchen whistling, shaking his arse as he leaves. "We didn't shag this weekend." He calls back to me.

"I know, I didn't -" he leaves before I can finish. Besides, I don't know how to tell him without admitting I was becoming addicted to work again.

Making myself another coffee, I flick through my emails on my phone. As I do so, an email pings to the top of the list, unread. It's from David. The subject line reads:

Today: a little bit about Preston

Hm. Let's see what all the fuss is about. I open the email, which is topped with a photo of Preston. He has startling blue eyes and a furrowed brow, although not enough to make him look irate. His mouse-brown hair is neat, but not slicked back with gel; a small strand falls loosely by the side of his left brow, a slight smile on his lips. Not bad, I think to myself.

He looks well presented and somewhat inquisitive. It makes the idea of mentoring sound a whole lot easier.

"Who is that?" The sudden sound startled me; I turn my head to find Brendan peering over my shoulder.

"My mentee. Now stop being nosey; it's confidential." I say a little too defensively. Three years ago I wouldn't have even given Preston's photo the time of day, but this time I was seemingly drawn to his presence.

"No fucking. Especially if it's Preston instead of me." Brendan shouts out as he leaves the room again.

My brows furrow. "How do you know who he is?" I shout after him.

"The subject line of the email." He shouts from the other room. I didn't even know I was holding my breath until I release it slowly at his words. "He's also Jenna's ex."