On Mondays, we regret all of our life choices.
"I mean, how did I get here?" I ask Isobel, my feet up on the meeting table.
The meeting room smells like citrus today, probably because there's a huge basket of fruit in the centre of the room for some reason. Untouched, cellophane still intact.
It makes me crave oranges.
"Seriously," I whine. "Noah is like the perfect human being. He's sweet and he's dedicated to his job and he puts up with Cam's bullshit like he's taking care of a kid."
Isobel continues to stare at me, the pink streak in her hair now a fluorescent orange. Her eyeshadow matches the change.
"How did I end up living with someone who drives me to work everyday without complaint, and does the washing up every night, and looks at me like I'm the only girl he's ever seen in his life?"
I fake a sob for dramatic effect.
"Wow. . . you didn't mention how hot he is once," Isobel deadpans.
She ducks as I throw my pen at her.
"What am I going to do?"
Isobel rolls her eyes. I'm so used to her being unbothered by my problems that it doesn't faze me; I know the advice will follow anyway.
"Haven't you just spent the past half an hour talking about how upset Cam would be? That he practically forbade you from going for it?" She tilts her head to one side with the question.
"He didn't use the word forbid," I mutter.
She rolls her eyes.
I take a sip of my vanilla latte.
"Noah is off limits. Sounds kinda spicy, doesn't it?" she taunts.
I should've brought more pens with me. Throwing one clearly wasn't enough.
Isobel coughs. "Maybe you're thinking about it all wrong. You're thinking about it like you'll both fall in love or something, when really, maybe you're both just. . . sexually charged." She states. My eyebrows furrow. "Cam wouldn't know if you just did it once to get it out of your system."
I consider it for a second, which is a sign that I've been friends with Isobel for too long because her advice with men is never good.
"What if one time doesn't get it out of my system?"
She grins. "Was it that good?"
My eyes roll of their own accord. Telling her about each instance with Noah felt important to the narrative, and now I fear I won't hear the end of it.
"I need advice."
"You need sex."
She's completely useless.
I look over to the basket of fruit again, admiring the mixture of colours within it. I'm sure there's an orange in there somewhere that I could snack on - but why is it here? In our office, like some sort of big romantic gesture that's waiting to happen.
"What's with the fruit?" I ask.
Isobel continues to scroll on her phone, shrugging half-heartedly.
"Probably for the meeting. Which is in ten minutes by the way, and I haven't even seen you check your emails yet."
She's right. I got into work late this morning. Late because Noah showered for too long and thus Cam got into the bathroom later than usual and our whole morning routine fell apart, and immediately dragged Isobel into the meeting room as soon as I set foot in the building.
All I've done so far is complain about my situation with Cam and Noah, sip my latte, and receive subpar advice.
It's possibly the least protective I've ever been at the office; It's certainly the only time I've ever broken out of my own system of sitting at my desk to check through and reply to emails first thing.
My mind is preoccupied, I admit.
Having complained for half an hour, however, I now feel a little better. I can stop thinking about it, and start thinking about my job again.
I press the code into my tablet and click on the email icon, only forty-seven minutes into my working day.
300 unread.
A groan falls from my lips. I drop my head to the table and flop my arms dramatically before pulling the screen back towards my line of sight.
"What's the meeting even about?"
Isobel chuckles, looking up at me through her eyelashes. "The Christmas campaign. You know that one we just spent all that time working on?"
"It's out?!"
She leans forward in her seat.
"You're not serious." Her tone is deadpan, as if I'd pretend to forget about something so important for a laugh before our review meeting. Her eyes widen to match my own, a grin too big for her face appearing slowly as if in a horror movie. "You're down bad. I thought I was the one who forgot deadlines and shit!"
"I can't believe you didn't message me," I hiss, now frantically scrolling through my emails - all of which are about our campaign launch on Saturday.
Her laugh is infuriating.
"Noah is way further under your skin than I thought," She continues, poking me in the leg with the tip of her shoe when I don't respond. "It's nice that you're not obsessed with work for once, Kenz. Don't let it stress you out."
"Shouldn't I have at least watched my advert before attending the review meeting?"
"You watched it before it went to TV," she comments inexpressively. "And we've only had an hour to look over everything before the meeting so I don't think Danny is going to be expecting much."
I can't argue with sense. I push the uneasy feeling in my body down so it's a low buzz rather than a siren going off in both my ears, and take a deep breath.
Morgan enters the room, bringing a few other snacks and sweet treats for the meeting.We exchange pleasantries and small talk about our weekends as I continue glancing over my emails.
At least having a lot of work to do takes Noah off my mind.
==================================================================
It's entirely obvious during the meeting that I've not prepared at all, nor have I done anything in the first hour of work, but nobody is impolite enough to say anything. The four of them pick up the slack like it's normal.
Danny gives me an occasional side eye though, so I know he'll be talking to me about it later.
Later doesn't come for a while. I pride myself on catching up on everything; reading and, mostly, replying to every email that I need to. Looking over the entirety of the campaign in its glory, even beginning to fill in my evaluation sheet - Which is impressively organisational of me even by my standards.
Isobel tries to talk to me twice more about it, but I shut it down and make her feel guilty for letting me forget about the launch. It's not her fault but who else could I blame? Noah?
Danny appears at my desk around an hour before lunch, holding out an apple from the fruit basket.
I take it, watching his head nod towards the conference room and following him over.
"Everything alright?" He asks, the second I take my usual seat opposite him.
I know, biting into the apple. I swallow before replying.
"I had a bit of a slow start this morning but I've caught up with everything now."
No point beating around the bush, it's obvious what the conversation is going to be about. The sooner I can get out of this office and find somewhere for lunch, because low and behold, I forgot that too, the better.
I will, however, try and avoid the fact that I forgot entirely about the campaign launch.
As much as I feel that Danny and I are friends, he is still my boss. He's still the person that recommends me for promotions and completes my performance reviews - there's only so much I can lean on our work friendship to allow for a few mistakes here and there.
"I don't think you've ever had a slow start the entire time you've been here," he laughs, but there's an edge behind it that I can't place my finger on.
"Apparently this Monday had it out for me. Maybe my coffee was decaf," I throw a wink, releasing a breath from my nose when his shoulders loosen.
Danny rehashes the meeting with me, allowing for my input this time without embarrassing me about the 'slow start'.
It's curt and professional, with statistics that baffle me this soon before my lunch break.
"I'll send all this over, and you can go over it after lunch," He notes with a smile, as if reading my mind. "I did want to ask you about just one more thing."
"What's up?"
He hesitates. I almost miss the way his eyes flick to the door before settling back on me.
"How's everything going with your brother and Noah?"
Ah. So the hesitation was because of this then. He's worried about bringing up Noah again, as he should be, because I think he's beginning to sense that I wouldn't like Noah's criminal record brought up anymore.
I'm sick of him asking about it.
What's in it? When is it from? Have you asked him about it yet? Question after repeated questions since he found out about it, but those questions finally dwindled down last week when Isobel suggested that Danny must fancy Noah too.
He's been quiet every time we've talked about Cam, Noah and the house since.
"It's going well," I shrug, careful with my words. "Cam and I are still getting along. It's actually been quite nice to get to know him and his friends."
Danny nods, a small smile on his face. Colour appears in his cheeks.
"Have you heard much from your estate agent yet?"
"Nothing," I disclose.
He hums, the blush disappearing just as quickly as it arrived.
It has been quite awhile since I spoke to them now. I managed to get a hold of them and reply after the ceiling collapsed to inform them that I wouldn't be paying rent nor living in the room until it was fixed.
The woman I spoke to was mildly apologetic but I'm sure they're just glad they don't have to pay out for a hotel room.
"I think you should call them," Danny suggests. "It's been weeks now, hasn't it? You should at least ask if they've started fixing it."
"Yeah, you're right. I'll get onto them."
"Take a long lunch," he adds. My eyes widen. "Really," he laughs. "Go get lunch, get a coffee and get it sorted. Come back whenever you're ready."
"Fine by me." I smile.
I don't give him a chance to change his mind, I just head for the door towards Isobel's desk. I let her know Danny is giving me a lunch of whatever length I please, to her utter jealousy, and grab my phone and coat from my desk before heading for the lift.
I check my phone as I descend.
Cam: Tuesday's game night is at Finn's grandparents
house (Mansion!!!) this week bc he's housesitting. You
can ask your pretty goth friend to come along??
My pretty goth friend. Isobel will love that.
Unsurprisingly, Noah hasn't messaged me.
Since our mutual agreement yesterday he's been nothing but friendly.No thighs touching on the sofa, no subtle hand on my back, not even a glimpse of that killer smile that sends tingles down my spine.
Last night, Cam even sat between us on the sofa while we ate dinner together. We watched half a movie together, my predictable brother falling asleep before the good stuff even started. Except this time, when Cam started to snore, Noah decided to go to bed early.
Nothing bad can happen if we don't make the time for it, I guess.
On the way to work this morning we were cordial. Noah asked about my day and I his, but nothing further beyond work lives.
It's as if we don't know how to be friends. We're either acquaintances who know Cam first, or we're. . . Something more than that. We can't talk like friends talk because we're worried we'll take it too far - this is presuming he feels the same way that I do.
I got out of the car and Noah told me to enjoy my day. No recollection of his tongue in my mouth or his fingers on my pussy - apparently.
I arrive at the coffee shop and order a cup of herbal tea and a sandwich, sitting in an empty corner near the back so I can scroll through social media on my phone semi-loudly and not bother anybody.
I message Isobel about Tuesday's game night and get a string of messages back detailing her jealousy of my long lunch, which is worth nothing, as Isobel is only sat at her desk on her phone.
I enjoy my lunch a little too leisurely. Fifty minutes passes by before I finally search up the number for my estate agents.
Part of me doesn't want to make the call. I've been in my own bubble at Cam's place, with new things to focus on like making friends, going out with friends, and obsessing over a tattooed man.
I'm learning to drive. Sort of. I have a relationship with my brother despite the many years of ignoring each other through our school days. Making this call feels like I'm giving it up, or saying it's not enough.
I realised suddenly that I don't want to leave.
I don't want to go back to my own shared house, with housemates I don't know the names of and a toilet seat the brakes every time you sit on it. I don't want to go back to being a complete workaholic who doesn't even register the words 'friends', 'alcohol' or 'fun' in her vocabulary.
But I press call.
Because I can't have my house fall apart, move in with my brother and his best friend, and then live with them forever.
It rings for several long seconds, before, finally: "Wellingborough and Co Housing estate, This is Krista speaking. How may I help you today?"
"Hello," I take a sharp breath in preparation for the conversation. "This is Mackenzie Kennedy, I rent a shared house with you. It's -"
"Ah! Mackenzie! Yes, I've been meaning to get in contact with you."
"Oh?"
The herbal tea in my stomach turns, hardens until it's led, pinning me to the chair, seeping into my thighs as if molten lava.
Realising I don't want to go home and having my 'home' be ready on the same day may be the largest incident of dramatic irony I've ever seen in my life.
"Yes, let me just get up some paperwork now. . ." The clicking of keys is unmistakable.
I stare into my empty mug and bite on my thumb now.
"Ah, here it is. Miss Kennedy - Yes, the contractors have been looking at the bathroom ceiling and unfortunately the cause of the problem is much deeper than they first anticipated." More clicking. My breath releases though. The house isn't ready yet and I don't have to pretend that I want to return to it. "The collapse actually developed due to a problem with the roof, which has led to water damage in the attic and made its way to your bathroom."
"Ah."
"It all sounds very complicated, I'm sure." Her chirpy voice would usually feel grating, but her words float by me, because I'm not getting my own bed back yet and I'm still surprised at how pleased that makes me. "But it basically just means that a lot more work needs to be done before you can reinhabit the room."
"When do you think it'll be ready?" I ask.
"Um, let me call the contractor and get back to you on that one. Although I don't imagine it'll be finished until after Christmas." She informs me.
"In a month?"
"Possibly more," she remarks, a soft lilt to her voice as if it's sad for her too.
"Okay. Well, thank you for letting me know," I say.
"We aren't expecting you to pay anything while you're not in the house, of course - just as we informed you in the email sent. I believe you're staying with - your brother? Is it? But if your circumstances change and you need a hotel at any point, then please do let us know. Your landlord is obligated to pay for accommodation while your house is uninhabitable."
They sent me the email after I called to tell them about the ceiling. They had emailed me all of this information when I first moved in. I skimmed through it, barely reading every other paragraph.
"No problem. Thank you for everything."
We exchange pleasantries and the call ends.
I order another cup of tea while I try to absorb the details.
I take a sip and click on Cam's contact, opening our text conversation once more. His last message still stares back at me, read but not replied to.
Cam: Tuesday's game night is at Finn's grandparents
house (Mansion!!!) this week bc he's housesitting. You
can ask your pretty goth friend to come along??
I smile without reason, which is a lie because the reason is obviously that I get to continue living with Cam and Noah until further notice, and reply to his message.
Mackenzie: Sounds good, she'll be up for it.
Mackenzie: also my estate agent called and said
the house won't be ready until after Christmas.
Thoughts?
I wait for a couple of minutes but he doesn't respond. He must've already had lunch, because the clock continues ticking on even though I make no move to return to the office.
I should probably text Noah too; letting him know that I'll still be living there with them for a while. That will likely be spending some of the Christmas holiday together because I won't have moved out by then.
It's a lame excuse. I want to text him because I'd like us to be able to talk like we're actually friends and not strangers living in the same house - not because I want us to be more than friends.
It's been one day since Noah and I decided to respect Cameron, and I can't even last the full twenty-four hours without thinking about him romantically. Tragic.
My tea becomes lukewarm.
My sips are tentative.
I tossed my phone between my hands.
Mackenzie: My estate agents are still useless.
Well. It's sent now, so there isn't much I can do. The ball is in his court.
My phone buzzes on the table instantly.
Noah: Oh?
Noah: I thought you'd just given up and taken
permanent residence with us.
It's too easy, this light flirty attitude he brings out of me. I want to tease him already, ask him if that's what he wants rather than me, but that would be breaking our 'respect Cameron' talk.
I'm still thinking of something generic but vaguely interesting enough to reply with when my phone lights up once more, this time buzzing incessantly. Noah's name is plastered across the screen.
My heart should not be racing.
"Yes?" I answer. It sounds too bitchy, like I didn't want him to call even though I do.
"What?" He laughs, easing my nerves immensely. "I can't call my best friend's sister while she's on her lunch?"
I'm still unsure how to act around him now, but the words start to flow. His voice puts me at ease, and all the overthinking I've been doing all day suddenly feels quite silly compared to his breezy tone.
"I am on an extended lunch," I matter faithfully. "Danny wanted me to talk to my estate agent, so I'm exploiting the offer of taking however long I need."
He hums.
The sound fails as if it goes down the length of my entire body and back up again.
He asks about my housing situation and we chat casually about what my state agent told me, him listening and offering advice intimately, letting me go on about it.
Eventually I real realize I've been talking about the nightmare of a shared kitchen between strangers and one very creepy housemate for a while, and cut myself off.
"I've been talking for a long time now – Aren't you at work?" I asked him.
"Yes," Noah admits, this word quieter than all the others. "I'm having lunch too."
I pull the phone away from my ear and look at our call, now twenty-two minutes long.
"Have you even eaten your lunch?"
He hesitates, "I figured listening to you tell stories is worth missing a meal."
I think my heart just started hammering. I'm surprised when I look down at my chest and don't see it beating out of my shirt.
A moment passes us by.
I wonder if he's sitting or standing. Does he have a little lunchroom at the garage, or has he wandered to a local café like me to sit amongst strangers and try to talk quietly so they don't glare?
I bet he's wearing those blue overalls, dirty and oil stained. The picture of him in my head becomes obscene, so I swallow heavily, willing it away.
"Strike that. Yes, I've eaten lunch."
"Uh huh, right."
My mind is elsewhere. No at work. No at home. Noah, hard underneath me with two fingers -
"I've got a car in today that's similar to mine. It's all fucked up though, I don't know what he's done to it,"He tells me, huffing at the end of his sentence.
"Aren't you meant to know what the issue is so you can fix it? Since that's what good mechanics do and all?"
"Who said I was any good?"
He laughs, my fingers curling in my lap. I stretch them out and lean back into my chair.
"Aren't you?"
"I'm right," he snorts. "But this guy tried to build his engine up like a custom PC and I don't even recognize half the parts he's used. I've been undoing his handiwork all morning."
"Do you have to do paperwork with your job?"
"What?" There's a smile in his voice, gleaming through the phone.
"I mean. . . I don't really know much about mechanics, except that they fix cars. So?"
"A bit," he drawls out. "Not a lot. We have this admin woman called Millie who does all my paperwork - because I'm young and charming."
"You're so full of yourself," I snort.
I take a sip of my tea.
"Yeah," he mumbles. "But you seem to want to be full of me as well, so. . ."
The tea is sprayed out onto the table in front of me. A woman with her infant child sat a few tables across from me looks over and I try not to let the embarrassment pouring out of my body overtake me completely.
I know it is laughing. Like it's funny that he sends me into overdrive constantly.
But two can play at that game.
"And would you?"
"Would I what, MacKenzie?"
"Fill me up."
I can hear his breath hitch like a pin dropping in a silent room. The loud atmosphere in the coffee shop fades to the back of my mind, and I strain to hear him struggle to collect his thoughts.
Noah can't last twenty-four hours either, it seems. We can't be friends because we aren't friends - this happens. We flirt with each other. We find ways to make the other stutter.
It dawns on me all of a sudden; right now, sat here listening to him fucking breathe, I don't care what my brother wants. Because Cam can't stop me wanting someone - especially someone like Noah, who's perfect for me in every way.
I suppose it really is easier to say sorry than it is to ask for permission.
Isobel's advice isn't starting to look too shabby, either.
"Hm?" I press.
He cleared his throat, speaking quieter. "You know I would."
The woman and her child are looking at me like they know what I'm doing. I let my hair fall over my face as I looked down at the table.
"And I know you want me to, which makes this even fucking harder," no ads, drawing my attention back to his voice.It drips through the phone like golden honey and I want him so badly it hurts.
"You're the one who started this conversation," I remind him.
"You keep looking at me like you're waiting for me to rip your clothes off. Since we met you haven't been able to tone it down -" he takes another audible breath. "Even last night when I said I was going to bed, you looked at me with these glazy fucking doe eyes that made me want to take you with me."
I press the phone closer to my ear, hard, as if I'm protecting his words from the world.
My legs are locked together underneath the table. I don't dare look at any other customers.
"You're going to have to stop looking at me like that if nothing can happen," he adds.
"Sounds like a you problem."
"I have to get back to work," he mutters, sounding a little dejected about the fact. "But just so you know Kenzie, I'd definitely fill you up. And there isn't a second that goes by that I'm not thinking about how you sound when you get off."
"God, Noah," the whisper falls from my mouth.
There's a bit of silence between us. I squeeze my eyes closed to my legs together even more, hoping I don't look as horny as I feel.
"I promise I'll behave when I see you in person."
I hope he doesn't.