She was dressed in tight jeans and a red top, leaning on a lamppost, face buried in her phone outside some dive bar. ‘I thought you might be the type – no beer left,’ she says, setting a high ball glass at the corner of my desk. ‘That looks like the end of productivity,’ I reply, dragging it over to watch three fingers of whiskey roll and lap against its sides. The pour she gave herself is just as generous, I could see. ‘Cut the shit,’ she laughs, jabbing a finger at the chat windows and pages peaking from behind the documents I’d been staring blankly at. ‘Those a project you’re working on?’ I stopped doing any actual work an hour ago, but somehow I was still in that chair, going through the motions. She saw right through it – maybe because she was doing the same thing. ‘You should report me,’ I say, taking a slow sip. I try not to pull a face as it burns down my throat. ‘Rough day?’ ‘No more than any other,’ she says, retreating to her desk. Her fingers clatter on the keyboard. I thought you knew better than to play around with other people’s property.”“I’m sorry. I just got carried away.”“How did you get carried away doing something like that?”“It’s just… I was horny and I saw your pants and I just…” My face burned red. “I’m sorry. Please don’t think ill of me.”Emma sighed. “You need a girlfriend. You can’t do things like that, you’ll turn into a deviant.”“I tried! But I can’t, I’m no good with girls.”“What do you mean? You’re not ugly and aside from that peculiar act of yours, you’re generally a pleasant person. Girls would want to date you.”“That’s exactly it! Girls do want to date me, but I can’t. I-I freeze up when I interact with them. I don’t know why exactly but I’m not comfortable around other girls.”“You’re okay with me and Mum…”“That’s different I guess. You’re family.”Emma was staring at me intently, as if she was reading my soul through my eyes. After what seemed like forever, she let out a deep sigh. “Just… Don’t do it again okay?”“Yes, I.
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