harper
"who does he think he is?" i question to myself as i pace my living room. "acting all possessive when we've clearly established that there will be no. strings. attached."
i roll my eyes for probably the billionth time since this afternoon and busy myself by starting to clean literally everything in sight. my windows and mirrors are all spotless by the time the clock hits 9, and my stomach begins to grumble.
i grab the double fudge brownie from the freezer with no regret, and slam it on the counter. this is an internal way to express my anger, since me eating dairy filled ice cream would seriously push his buttons.
this entire situation is childish and stupid, and i never should've slept with ethan in the first place.
but then i think of his hands on my bare skin, touching every part of me that ached for him the most.
i push the thought out of my brain with an intense eye roll, and grab the most gigantic spoon known to man, and start to eat the ice cream.
around four episodes of my current favorite series go by in the blink of an eye, and i realize i wasn't really watching them in the first place. my eyes were focused on the turntable and the two vinyls that sit on my dresser.
without thinking, i get up to put the john mayer record on.
dreaming with a broken heart starts to play immediately, causing me to sigh.
i don't know why i played the record when i knew it was going to make me think of ethan even more.
it's like i set myself up for confusing heartaches.
eventually i end up laying on my floor, staring at the ceiling while listening to the entire album while drumming to the slow beats on my stomach.
i'm now feeling the affects of the dairy, but i'm not going to let myself regret eating it. nope, that would be as if he won. and he didn't.
i'll probably have to call in sick tomorrow, but i honestly don't mind if it means i don't have to look at him, just waiting to tempt me.
i stay up all night for two reasons:
1. my stomach hurts.
2. i can't get him out of my head.
this could all be fixed if i fired him, but i could seriously never ever see myself doing that. he didn't do anything that i didn't agree to, so i wouldn't be fair to take out our personal problems on what pays his bills.
by 5 am, i'm starting to feel better and decide that i have to go to work, no matter how sleep deprived and confused i am. i have meetings all day that i just can't miss.
to avoid getting ethan's attention again, i pull my hair into an updo and apply plain old chapstick that he has never complimented before. he seems to like when i wear skirts, so i instead i put on high waisted dress pants that just barely reach my ankles, and a plain white long sleeve tucked into it. i very much made the mistake of wearing an off the shoulder top yesterday, as you can see faint marks scattered along my collarbone and neck.
he hates noisy bracelets, so i make sure to put on a couple of those too.
i'm early. way too early to leave already, so i sit down in my kitchen with my usual breakfast and read the news on my phone.
nothing much is happening— the president is an idiot, the stock market is going up, and a new celebrity is in a scandal that media outlets will feed off of this week, and totally forget about in three days.
society is so repetitive.
instead of ubering, i decide i'll take the long route of using the L train. public transit scares the living hell out of me, but honestly today i'm just trying to kill time.
i'll have to hope off a couple blocks away from work, and just walk the rest. it's a cold, bitter day out, but the sun is shining and the sky is clear.
*******
my suspicions were correct— i was extremely uncomfortable the entire ride.
there was a man that kept scooting closer to me, playing the harmonica and eating straight out of a peanut butter jar.
my stomach was aching the entire time, and i honestly thought i'd have to rip the stupid cowboy hat off the woman leaning against a pole to throw up in it.
i shouldn't have eaten that ice cream.
but i push the nausea down as i bustle into the building, feeling immediate relief from the warm air streaming through the vents.
"morning, ms. brown," a lady at the front desk beams at me.
"morning," i smile back, and head for the elevators.
just my luck, ethan's there when i arrive. he's on his phone, so he hasn't seen me. i try to keep it that way as the door dings, and opens.
he finally looks up, and sees me. his lips part, but his eyes look more concerned than anything else.
"what?" i ask a little harshly. "what are you looking at?"
"you're pale and borderline green. are you okay?"
"i'm fine," i wave off his concern and step into the elevator.
he follows in after me and pushes our floor. as i stand next to him, i get a really weird feeling in my stomach.
that damn ice cream.
i try to push it away and contain myself until we can just reach the 27th floor. ethan notices my uncomfortable vibe, and questions me with only his eyes.
just when i think i'm about to walk out of this elevator without spewing my guts everywhere, the elevator stops.
on the 26th floor.
someone comes on as soon as the doors open, and i rush off, trying to find the nearest bathroom.
i make it barely in time to puke up the rest of the ice cream that didn't quite digest last night. it's disgusting.
there's nothing worse than vomiting in a public space.
i cough, clutching the sides of the toilet bowl and slumping down to lean my head against the side of the stall.
"harper?"
my eyes fling open at the sound of ethan's voice. he stands in front of my open stall, shocked and slightly grossed out.
"oh my god," i groan, rubbing my temples. "get out of here. this is a women's bathroom."
"i don't care. are you okay?"
i sigh, letting my eyes close again. "i will be in a couple hours or so."
"harper..."
"yes...?"
"did you eat ice cream?"
i'm quiet, which is the answer he was looking for.
he sighs. "harp, that's bad for you. why did you eat dairy?"
"i don't know, okay!" i exclaim, becoming frustrated by this whole conversation. i limply reach over to flush the toilet, and the remaining evidence of the double fudge brownie is now gone.
"did you do it just to piss me off?"
his voice is teasing, which makes me crack a weak smile. "maybe."
"come on," he offers a hand. "get up. you're going home."
"i'm fine," i insist. "it's all done, see? no more puking."
he gives me a look, and i sigh lightly as i take his hand that helps me to my feet. "i thought you had a phobia of puking, ethan."
"i do. but not when other people do it."
i nod. "okay, yeah. makes sense."
i drink from a plastic water bottle he fishes out of his emergency bag, and pop a couple pepto bismol tablets that he also possesses in there.
"feel any better?" he questions as i look at myself in the mirror of the bathroom, trying to get color back onto my face.
"a little. i'm sorry i ate the ice cream."
"don't apologize to me, apologize to your stomach," ethan snorts with a laugh.
i giggle, turning around to face him again. "have any gum?"
he pulls a package from his pocket. "spearmint or peppermint?"
"peppermint. we need to get back to the office before i miss one of my meetings," i mumble, taking the stick of gum from him and beginning to unwrap it.
ethan raises his eyebrows, tilting his head down a little. "no. you're going home."
"no," i whine like a little kid, throwing my head back. "i have a busy day, e. i can't miss anything."
"yes you can. i'll push all your meetings back for tomorrow and argue with anyone who doesn't cooperate."
i laugh a little. "could you please? i really feel like going home right now, and if that's an option then i can totally be okay with it."
"i'll get it handled. need a ride home?"
i look up at him. "yes please."
"alright," he sighs, patting some of my stray hairs down. "let's go."