Just You. Jane Lark

Just You - Jane  Lark


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she did keep texting me, only about stupid stuff, but she wasn’t cutting me.

      “Hey, did you see this?” I caught sight of Becky dropping a magazine on Portia’s desk, folded back, to show Portia something on a particular page.

      When I came back with Becky and Crystal’s coffees, all of them were clustered around Portia’s desk, jawing in catty voices about some celebrity gossip in the magazine, cutting some poor famous woman down to shreds for having put on a few pounds, laughing at the before and after picks.

      I don’t know. I mean, I liked Portia, physically. She was seriously attractive. But her bit-of-a-British accent and her tipped-up-chin-and-nose, saying I’m-better-than-you-back-off, gave her a hard edge that was sharp. Maybe there was something there or maybe there wasn’t. She was brittle really. She had a personality that was like stone. If she was really interested in me? Would I be interested in that?

      She glanced up before I could turn away and caught me staring at her. There was a really tiny twitch at the edge of her lips. Then she looked back down.

      Shit, that little twitch in her lips had a little twitch shifting in my dick. It ran up my nerves and lust gripped like a sudden punch that knocked the air out of me.

      I guess I could overlook her similarity to stone. Maybe it would be fun to go up against such a hard edge in a bed anyway.

       Portia

      I caught Justin’s eyes widening, and his lips tipped sideways just before he turned away. The smile that had involuntarily lifted the edge of my lips spread.

      There was something going on.

      I was sure he was making a play for me.

      Every day he made me coffee, but he made it for Becky and Crystal too. Yet he always brought my cup over first, put it down, and then went back for theirs. He was up to something.

      Becky said something and Crystal laughed. I laughed a little too, though I hadn’t heard what she’d said; my eyes and my attention were on Justin, watching him as he walked around to his desk.

      I loved the way he moved. I mean, he had this relaxed way of walking but as he walked, you could see the strength of his character coming through. It was the way he carried himself. Justin was confident––comfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t afraid of being judged. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him. If someone didn’t like him; I think he would just shrug it off. He wasn’t interested in impressing anyone. He was just who he was. No complications.

      The main editor walked over to talk to him. It gave me more time to watch as he stayed standing.

      While he talked with Keith, Justin’s hand came up and gripped the back of his neck. Something trembled low in my belly as I remembered those long fingers touching me.

      I still liked the shape of his head, the curve of his jaw. I don’t know. Justin was just perfectly proportioned; it was like he’d been airbrushed in real life.

      Keith said something and Justin nodded, his hand falling. Then Justin turned as Keith walked away. Justin’s gaze didn’t lift, he didn’t catch me watching. He was looking at his screen as he sat down, his lips parting to let out a short sigh as he sat.

      That meant he was working on something complicated. I’d started really noticing the sound of his little sighs that drifted across the desk. It meant he was thinking, working something out in his head.

      The thought of his broad lips parting to let out a sigh had my blood heating and sensation tingling in between my legs. Someone must have turned up the heater in the air-con, I wanted to strip.

      “Hey. What do you think?” Becky hit my shoulder with the back of her hand.

      I didn’t know what she was asking; I hadn’t been listening to them.

      “Girls!”

      Keith saved me anyway. He’d seen we were just talking. Becky and Crystal immediately turned away.

      I sat back down; my mind spinning with unvoiced questions I wouldn’t admit to as my mind fixated on Justin’s lips and his hands.

      I don’t remember fixating on anything about Daniel, my ex. Daniel had always just been Daniel. We’d known each other for years before we got together. Our parents were friends. They’d pushed us together.

      At the time, I’d thought I wanted that.

      I looked up, but I couldn’t see Justin around my screen. I thought about the way he moved; his confidence, his simplicity. No secrets. No games. No disguises and false fronts.

      God how refreshing was that.

      Daniel had been too like my dad in personality. But then I hadn’t known what Dad was really like at the time I’d started with Daniel. I’d been blind still. Seriously, it was as if I had never opened my eyes until the night everything had gone wrong.

      How had I not known Dad was cheating; and how had I not seen how self-centered and pathetic Daniel was? I wasn’t even sure he’d loved me at all. He’d loved himself, and he wanted to look good, and have the sort of influence my dad had. I was just part of that package. The girl who would look right on his arm. The girl whose inheritance would help fund the political career he was aiming for. The girl who knew how to act in that world… Except, I wasn’t going to play any part in it. I hadn’t even known everyone else was acting until my eyes had been ripped open.

      I’d had to wake up and grow up quick. I’d cut my ties with my parents’ wealth and their world and just walked away.

      Dad hadn’t cut me off. My trust fund money was still sitting in an account. Untouched. It felt like blood money. I didn’t want it. I was making my own mark on the world. Doing what I wanted, not what they wanted. As far as I was concerned, I had no obligation to them. They’d lied to me, pretended they were something they were not. Just like Daniel.

      Not like Justin.

      There was another whisper of a sigh from the other side of the block of desks. I saw Justin’s arm lift and his palm settled on top of his head as he stared at the screen, clearly trying to work out in his head how he was going to do something.

      Justin was different from any guy in my world back home. The world that now seemed like a nightmare I’d dreamed up.

      I’d arrived in New York alone; determined to do stuff my own way. I’d armored myself with the sort of confidence Justin had naturally. It had not come naturally to me. But I think I’d managed to convince everyone that I could do this––that I could make it by myself.

      Yet beneath the person who’d conned everyone into believing I was thick-skinned, not-knockable and independent––was still that girl who had arrived in New York, alone and terrified of how she’d cope.

      Justin was just Justin…

      I was starting to really like him.

      I looked down at my cell, my fingers itching.

      I picked it up.

      ‘Stop sighing, you’re distracting me.’

      I saw his hand fall from his head. Then there was a little amused grunt.

      ‘:-) I’m concentrating.’

      ‘Well concentrate quietly :D’

      ‘Ha. Ha.’

      I had on the sort of smiley face I’d texted as I looked back at my own screen, and tried to get my brain to focus on work again, not on the guy across our block of desks.

       Portia

      I sat on the bed looking at Justin’s number on my cell for about the twentieth time. I


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