Page 2 of Wishes for August
I had decided a long time ago that I was never going to fall in love. I had seen what so-called ‘love’ did to people. How it changed them, tore them apart, how it destroyed families. I saw what it did to my parents. I knew what it had done to me. At the wise old age of twenty six, I, August Elias West, was certain that love was something I would never allow myself to feel.I waslonely, there was no denying that, but being lonely was far less scary than having your heart broken. Love was risky and my loneliness was a direct result of the risk my mother had taken by loving my father too much.
Desperate for some caffeine after only three hours of sleep, I walked into the coffee shop I frequented, a few roads over from my office. It was only going on eight on a Monday morning, but the place was already rammed, the aroma of coffee and spice from those designer drinks they made filled the air. This wasn’t the closest coffee shop to the office but it was by far the best. I spotted my best friend Branson midway up the queue. His gaze turned to me and he waved me over with a small grin. Though we lived together, he always left the house before me to hit the gym before meeting for a pre-work coffee.
“Morning mate, you left super early this morning," I said as I sidled up next to him, jumping the line and gaining an annoyed huff from the businessman behind me.
Branson looked at me with the same boyish grin I’d known since we were both five and he’d knocked on the door of my childhood home to introduce himself, the moving vans still unloading his belongings. Branson and I had been inseparable ever since. He’d been by my side through primary and secondary school, and we’d been lucky enough to go to university not too far apart from each other.He was like a brother to me. He held my shaking body the night my mother died and helped me handle all the funeral arrangements. For so long, I’d felt lonely. Some days, loneliness surrounded me like a shadow, a darkness that caused a dull but persistent ache in my chest. But my reprieve from that darkness, however temporary, was my best friend.
“Unlike your lazy ass, I like to get my workout in before starting my day. Why waste time sleeping Aug? There’s so much to do,” he answered wryly as I grinned back at him. Branson wasshorter than me at five eight, with a lithe body, dirty blonde hair and striking dark blue eyes lined by dark lashes. What he lacked in size, he made up for with his huge personality and abundance of sass.
“My lazy ass is quite happy sleeping in, thanks,” I quipped, and he playfully punched me in the abs.
“Piss off mate,” Branson grumbled as I chuckled.
Branson and I worked in the same building, but for different companies. He was in finance which I thought was incredibly boring, but I never said that to his face. His way with numbers always amazed me. He was, quite honestly, a genius. A nerdy, big hearted genius.
“So, what do you have on this week?” he asked me, as we stepped closer to the counter. I looked up at the menu board briefly wondering if I'd try something new before turning to face him.
“It’s a big week at Manners Media. The new Managing Director is starting today. I haven’t heard much about him, other than that he is coming on board with ‘plenty of fresh ideas’.” I raised my hands in the air in an exaggerated manner. “Whatever that means.”
I loved working where I did, but it was no secret in the office that the previous MD had begun to lack enthusiasm for his role the closer he got to retirement. I was excited to see what this new guy would be like.
"Other than that, I have no plans. I could fit in a night out if you’re keen?”
Branson and I had grown up in a small coastal town where the nightlife was non-existent. Since university and moving to London, we’d made up for the lack of excitement in our teenage years by taking advantage of all the entertainment London had to offer. Fun in this city was never in short supply.
Branson looked at me and gave a noncommittal nod, before stepping forward to the counter. I didn't stop him when he placed our usual order. The barista smiled at us and, while Branson offered her a warm grin, I merely pressed my lips into a thin line. He was always so warm to people. Flirtatious too. I was not a people person. I liked Branson. That was about it. I tolerated some of my colleagues. And occasionally I would give in to Branson’s persistent requests and hang out with his rugby buddies. I liked to think of myself as a solo flyer with a sidekick who kept him on track. I wouldn’t say I was happy, but I was fine. And sometimes fine was good enough - it had to be.
“How about you, Bran? What’s on your agenda this week since you’re not chomping at the bit to party with me?”We took our coffees - plain black for him and a cappuccino for me - and walked out onto the street, heading toward the office.
“Not much workwise - same old things but I have a date tonight,” Branson answered, looking at me with a shy smile.
“Same guy as last week or a different one?” I asked. Branson was determined to find his person. Unlike me, he was more than happy with the idea of settling down. He’d get very attached, very quickly though and I hated seeing him get hurt.
“A different guy. The one last week never returned my call.” Branson shrugged and I patted him on the shoulder.
“His loss buddy." And it was. Branson was a great guy, and I was sure one day, someone would appreciate every bit of him.
We walked slowly down the street, passing a large block of flats before turning right and crossing through a small city park. A pathway cut through the middle of the park, with an entrance on either side. To our right was a playground - swings, a slide and a climbing frame - and to the left an open area of grass lined with picnic benches. In the summer evenings, when I walked this way, the park was often full of people having picnics andplaying ball but at this time of day, and at the start of October, the park was quiet, save for some pigeons and the odd jogger.
The few trees we could see in this part of the city had started to turn all shades of red and orange as summer gave way to autumn. I loved this time of the year. The crisp cool breeze against my skin elicited a small smile from me. There's something so incredibly charming about the way the trees shed their leaves ready to start fresh each year.
“They have a yoga class here on Tuesday nights,” Branson pointed out as we neared the far exit of the park. “We should try it sometime. I think it runs all year around. We could get all bendy and shit.”I snickered at his suggestion. Branson was one of those people who tried every class he could. Spinning. Wall climbing. Touch rugby. If there was a class that caught his interest, he’d do it. He wouldn’t stick to it, but he'd give it a good go.
“Sounds good Bran. I need to be more bendy and shit,” I said with a grin. I didn’t hate the idea of yoga. I preferred my activities to involve minimal socialising and talking.
As we turned onto the street housing our office building – a tall glass structure, towering over the older buildings in the heart of corporate London – my phone buzzed. Taking it out of my coat, I opened the notification to view my work emails.
“Ah, a staff meeting. It must be time to meet the new boss.” Taking another sip of my coffee, I slipped my phone back into my pocket as we stepped into the lobby. Branson and I worked on different floors and he preferred to take the stairs so usually this was where we parted ways until we’d meet later.I stepped into the elevator and waited as a few others followed behind me. The elevator ride was slow, stopping on a few floors for passengers to depart. I spent the ride with my eyes down, my thoughts on the week ahead.
Stepping out into the lobby of Manners Media, and greeting the receptionists, Danika and Hale, I made my way over to the conference room. It was nearly nine and most of my colleagues were either already at their desks or making their way to the conference room. I made a habit of always arriving on time, never earlier so as not to endure tedious small talk.
On entering our conference room - a medium sized space with floor to ceiling windows offering a view over London - I was caught by surprise by the incredibly attractive man leaning against the head of the table. He was talking to Carol or Cate or Cindy - something with a C - the head of Human Resources. She was smiling brightly at him, and I was sure I saw her eyelashes flutter.Flirt. Should the head of HR be flirting with the boss? Seemed a little off to me but I didn’t actually care. Not my problem.
Tall at probably just over six foot and dressed in a snug fitting grey suit which looked tailored to suit him, a white shirt perfectly pressed, a sky blue tie, auburn hair, forest green eyes and a beautifully toned body, this man was sex on fucking legs. My mind waded through all the filthy things I could do with someone so prim and proper like him and my body reacted instantly.
Well, hello there sexy, wouldn’t you look good on my dick?
Chapter 2