I can’t focus on work. I’m sitting at my computer, supposed to be working on the report, but my mind keeps drifting back to last night. The memories taunt me mercilessly, reminding me that someone made a colossal fool of themselves yesterday.
And who was that someone? Me! And why? Because of a stupid game that now leaves me feeling awkward and utterly embarrassed.
***
The music is pounding. I’m sitting at a table with Margaret, Olivia, and Kira. We’re having a blast, celebrating Margaret’s birthday. Sure, her actual birthday was a month ago—May 1st—but she was out of the country then. So, we’re marking the occasion tonight.
We’re sipping sweet cocktails and laughing uncontrollably. We can’t dance anymore—our feet are killing us—but our tongues are still going strong.
We gossip, tear everyone to shreds, and, of course, talk about men.
“But honestly, real gentlemen are a dying breed,” Kira, the redhead, sighs dramatically. “Every guy I date, it just doesn’t work out. They’re all… ugh, I don’t even want to say it…”
“That’s because you don’t know how to pick ‘em,” Margaret rolls her brown eyes and props her head on her hand.
“Oh, really?” Kira scoffs. “And how exactly do I do that? Care to teach me? Hmm?”
“You’ve gotta go for the one you don’t like at first,” Olivia chimes in, sipping her orange cocktail. She just stumbled back to the table after dancing her heart out on the floor.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Pick blindly,” she replies, her eyes lighting up with a wild spark. “I’ve got an idea for a game.”
“Olivia, we’re having plenty of fun without games. How many empty wine bottles are under the table already?”
That’s Margaret, who’s closed her eyes for a moment.
“I’m almost ashamed to say,” I peek under the table. “Way too many, but birthdays only come once a year.”
“Exactly,” Olivia grins. “So, let’s play!”
She lays a bottle horizontally on the table, gives us all a sly look, and explains:
“The game’s called ‘Find Yourself a Guy.’ The rules are simple—one person spins the bottle, and whoever the neck points to has to kiss a guy chosen by someone else and get his number.”
“This is kindergarten stuff!” I laugh. “Total nonsense…”
“And what do we have to lose? None of us are seeing anyone, and a kiss… pfft… who cares? What if it’s fate?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I’m about to protest, but the other girls back Olivia’s idea. She’s always been the adventurous one.
“I’ll spin first,” Margaret says, giving the bottle a twirl. The neck points to Olivia.
“The one who came up with it goes first,” I smirk.
“I’m game,” Olivia says, tying her dark hair into a ponytail. “Pick my target.”
“That redhead at the bar,” Margaret points.
“Not bad,” Olivia says, standing up and heading over to him.
The three of us watch, giggling, and soon we’re roaring with laughter.
Olivia says a few words to the stranger, kisses him on the forehead, then on the lips. He’s so stunned that he drops his glass. But that doesn’t stop Olivia from getting his number.
“I actually like him,” she says, returning to the table with a napkin scribbled with digits. “I’ll call him tomorrow. Now it’s my turn to spin. Let’s see who’s next…”
The bottle points… to me! I freeze a little. Watching is one thing, but participating? I’m not thrilled.
“Go talk to that guy on the red couch,” Olivia says.
I turn around. I squint my green eyes— inherited from my dad—and frown. I can only see part of his head.
“What if it’s some old geezer? No way… I’m not going. This is ridiculous. Sure, I’m a bit tipsy, but not so drunk that I’d do something this stupid…”
“Old geezers don’t come to clubs,” Margaret nudges me. “Besides, no one’s saying you have to talk to him afterward.”
“I’ll even let you off easy—if it’s a dud, you don’t have to kiss him on the lips, just a peck on the cheek,” Olivia smiles. “I’ll make an exception for you, but not for anyone else.”
I don’t like what they’re saying, but after five minutes of coaxing, I stand up and head toward those darn red couches. Anxiety builds inside me. It makes me unsteady, and goosebumps prickle my skin. This is a terrible idea. I stop and turn my blonde head back to look at my friends, who are watching me with excited eyes, mouthing:
“Kiss! Kiss!”
I turn back to the couch. The unknown man in a gray suit looks oddly familiar. Though, maybe I’m mistaken.
I take another step to walk around the couch and face him, but someone bumps into me. I lose my balance and tumble right into his lap.
Panic surges through me. This isn’t how I wanted to approach him, but as my vision clears, I’m met with familiar gray eyes. Staring back at me is Arsen… Mr. Arsen Victorovich. My boss, the man I’ve been smitten with since day one…
His full, tempting lips are just four inches from mine. His scent—cologne mixed with something else, something incredibly pleasant—fills my senses. I can’t quite place it, but it drives me wild. A wave of pleasure washes over me, shutting down all self-control.
I kiss him. I press my lips to his, and Arsen… he responds. He lets me in. I melt into the kiss, surrendering completely. My hand wraps around his neck, feeling his warmth, then moves to his light brown hair, which I’ve always wanted to run my fingers through.
But suddenly, the madness stops. I see his gaze, a storm of anger brewing in it, yet somehow, that only fuels my desire more.
***
“Yana, did you fall asleep?” My boss’s deep voice pulls me out of my reverie.
I look up at him. That steely gaze.
“Finally! Were you in a trance? I’ve been talking to you for two minutes!”
He’s annoyed, but not too much. Playing the role of the stern boss.
“I’m sorry, I was just really immersed in my work.”
“Were you now?” he asks skeptically.
“Yes,” I lie to my boss.
“I’m heading to a meeting with the Germans. When Gregory shows up, tell him to call the insurance company.”
“Got it,” I nod and glance at the clock. It’s four in the afternoon.
“Should I not expect you back today?” I ask Mr. Arsen Victorovich as he opens the door to leave.
The man in the elegant black suit turns to me and says:
“All you should be worried about is the report. It needs to be ready.”
He disappears, leaving behind the scent of his cologne in the reception area and a storm inside me...
I sit still for a minute, unmoving. He makes my head spin...
But it’s a relief he’s gone to the meeting. He definitely won’t be back at the office. What’s the point of returning when the workday ends in two hours? None.
For me, though, the day will drag on longer. I have to finish this report. I can’t even imagine how I’ll get it done. Work isn’t coming along at all, and on top of that, memories keep creeping into my mind.
***
“What a passionate beauty just fell into your lap,” I hear an unfamiliar male voice. “Went straight for a kiss…”
I look at Mr. Arsen Victorovich. My breathing is deep but rapid. This man overwhelms me.
Something urges me to lean in for those sweet lips again, but he grabs me with his strong yet gentle hands and pushes me away.
A moment later, we’re standing. I tilt my head up. A tornado rages inside me. I desperately want to throw myself into his arms, to kiss him again.
“Yana,” Yarov’s voice rings out sternly. “What are you doing?”
I hear his question, but I’m in a daze. I just want to keep looking at him.
“Yana!” His voice wraps around me again, the man who towers over me by a head and a half.
Finally, reality sinks in. My brain processes the situation. What have I done? Shame washes over me. I shamelessly threw myself at my boss, who now stands before me, waiting for an explanation.
I bolt. One moment, I’m trembling in front of him, and the next, I’m darting outside. The warm night air fills my lungs, and salty, bitter tears flood my eyes. What have I done? How could I let this happen? How am I supposed to show up at work tomorrow? Oh God, I’m done for!
“Yana,” Olivia’s voice calls from behind me. “What happened? Why did you run from that hottie? He’s so gorgeous… I’m just looking at him and burning up. And you kissed him. I’m jealous!”
I turn to my friend. Her face is glowing, but when she sees my tear-streaked face, her expression dims.
“What’s wrong? Yana?”
She steps closer and takes my hand.
“Did he hurt you? If he did, I’ll go show him a thing or two…”
“He’s my boss,” I whimper. “That’s Arsen… Mr. Arsen Victorovich.”
“Oh no,” she covers her mouth with her hand. “And now what? How… Wait. Yana, don’t panic. Tell me, what did he say to you?”
I can’t explain anything to her. I just cry. Hysteria engulfs me completely. My friend hugs me, saying something to calm me down, but nothing helps. I sob.
***
I’m sipping coffee with milk. It’s almost eight, and I’m still at the office. Working. I’ve got about an hour left, and then I can finally head home.
“How are you? What’s going on at work?” A notification pops up on my phone from Olivia.
I grab my smartphone, unlock it, and type:
“Still working on the report. I don’t know. He’s acting like nothing happened.”
“Then you’re in the clear,” she replies. “Are you sure it was him? Maybe it was just some lookalike?”
“No, it was definitely him,” I text back.
“Hmm… Well, keep working then. We’ll chat tonight.”
“Okay,” I reply, setting the phone down and taking another sip of coffee. I dive back into work, but then the door swings open abruptly, startling me and sending a jolt of fear through me.
My malachite-green eyes shoot up. Yarov steps into the reception area. Once again, I’m hit with the scent of his cologne and that mysterious aura that always seems to surround him. My boss stops and looks at me. He asks:
“You’re still at the office? Making up for being late?”
“The report took a bit longer than expected,” I try to answer calmly. “I’ll send it to your email in an hour.”
He pauses. His eyes flicker to the window, then back to me.
“If the report will be ready in an hour, I’ll wait.”
“Alright,” I reply, as Yarov heads into his office but leaves the door open.
A wave of heat washes over me. I had hoped I wouldn’t see him again today, but fate had other plans.