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Authors: Evelyn Troy
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they had finished that it was difficult to imagine that it might have all been an act.
And yet, he had been so quick to suggest that the game be over, that they consider it a tie. Jasmine’s stomach twisted inside of her as she tried to decide how to feel about the man; as the week dragged on to its conclusion on Friday with no call, no message, no contact of any form from Dominic, Jasmine felt more and more irritable.
To make matters worse, it seemed as though her boss and colleagues were determined to grind her into talc. Jasmine again found herself working late and coming in early, to prepare the brief and proposal that one of her fellow assistant managers would pitch to a client that she would have no part and no credit in attaching, were the proposal meeting to be a success. Her boss nitpicked her work, saying that something in the presentation looked “college-level, not professional,” even though the graphic in question had been developed with revisions from her boss himself, through the in-house design team. He had checked off on every stage, and Jasmine found herself in the unenviable position of having to go to the art department on Thursday afternoon to tell them that they would have to start afresh, with a Monday morning deadline.
That weekend, Jasmine found herself staying in, less because she hoped or expected Dominic to contact her and more because the idea of being out, pretending to have a good time, was more onerous than staying in and drinking a bottle of wine while she watched TV. The least he could do would be to text me and let me know he’s not interested, she thought irritably, sipping at the white merlot in her glass more quickly than she was aware of. I’m a big girl. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it’s not like I’d go all Single White Female on him or something like that.
She let her friend convince her to meet for brunch on Sunday in an effort to convince herself that she wasn’t going to let Dominic Harper get her down. Jasmine put on a dress—not as nice as the one that she had bought for the charity ball, but still nice, and went to meet her friends. Despite telling herself over and over that she was completely and totally over Harper, that she didn’t even want him to message her and that she would just move on as if it were any one-night stand, the second her phone buzzed in her bag she had it out and was checking it. “Look at Ms. Connected here,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes as Jasmine unlocked the screen hurriedly to see who was calling. It was one of her friends from college and Jasmine let it roll over to voice mail.
“Expecting someone special?” Mary-Alice asked with a raised eyebrow. “You never did tell us how the date last weekend went.” Jasmine shrugged.
“It was a bust,” she said. “Nothing worth writing home about. Dude was just there to mingle and network, and he wanted arm-candy to make a good impression.” She hadn’t told anyone at all about meeting Harper. At first this was because she couldn’t afford for the information to even risk becoming general knowledge given that she planned to sleep with him again, then as the days went by without any contact, because she didn’t want to seem more pathetic than she was.
She spent the entire brunch date distracted, barely able to force herself to keep up with the conversation. Her irritation at Dominic blossomed into full-fledged resentment. He could at least have spared a moment before she left his hotel room to tell her that he wasn’t going to call, to decline the dare. She hadn’t given him very much time, but if he had told her to stop or wait, she would have, and he could have let her down then, instead of dragging out the misery of her uncertainty.
When she returned to work the following week, Jasmine found herself thinking about Harper up in his office on the top floor of the building, totally unaware of the fact that the woman he had slept with a
And yet, he had been so quick to suggest that the game be over, that they consider it a tie. Jasmine’s stomach twisted inside of her as she tried to decide how to feel about the man; as the week dragged on to its conclusion on Friday with no call, no message, no contact of any form from Dominic, Jasmine felt more and more irritable.
To make matters worse, it seemed as though her boss and colleagues were determined to grind her into talc. Jasmine again found herself working late and coming in early, to prepare the brief and proposal that one of her fellow assistant managers would pitch to a client that she would have no part and no credit in attaching, were the proposal meeting to be a success. Her boss nitpicked her work, saying that something in the presentation looked “college-level, not professional,” even though the graphic in question had been developed with revisions from her boss himself, through the in-house design team. He had checked off on every stage, and Jasmine found herself in the unenviable position of having to go to the art department on Thursday afternoon to tell them that they would have to start afresh, with a Monday morning deadline.
That weekend, Jasmine found herself staying in, less because she hoped or expected Dominic to contact her and more because the idea of being out, pretending to have a good time, was more onerous than staying in and drinking a bottle of wine while she watched TV. The least he could do would be to text me and let me know he’s not interested, she thought irritably, sipping at the white merlot in her glass more quickly than she was aware of. I’m a big girl. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it’s not like I’d go all Single White Female on him or something like that.
She let her friend convince her to meet for brunch on Sunday in an effort to convince herself that she wasn’t going to let Dominic Harper get her down. Jasmine put on a dress—not as nice as the one that she had bought for the charity ball, but still nice, and went to meet her friends. Despite telling herself over and over that she was completely and totally over Harper, that she didn’t even want him to message her and that she would just move on as if it were any one-night stand, the second her phone buzzed in her bag she had it out and was checking it. “Look at Ms. Connected here,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes as Jasmine unlocked the screen hurriedly to see who was calling. It was one of her friends from college and Jasmine let it roll over to voice mail.
“Expecting someone special?” Mary-Alice asked with a raised eyebrow. “You never did tell us how the date last weekend went.” Jasmine shrugged.
“It was a bust,” she said. “Nothing worth writing home about. Dude was just there to mingle and network, and he wanted arm-candy to make a good impression.” She hadn’t told anyone at all about meeting Harper. At first this was because she couldn’t afford for the information to even risk becoming general knowledge given that she planned to sleep with him again, then as the days went by without any contact, because she didn’t want to seem more pathetic than she was.
She spent the entire brunch date distracted, barely able to force herself to keep up with the conversation. Her irritation at Dominic blossomed into full-fledged resentment. He could at least have spared a moment before she left his hotel room to tell her that he wasn’t going to call, to decline the dare. She hadn’t given him very much time, but if he had told her to stop or wait, she would have, and he could have let her down then, instead of dragging out the misery of her uncertainty.
When she returned to work the following week, Jasmine found herself thinking about Harper up in his office on the top floor of the building, totally unaware of the fact that the woman he had slept with a
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