Dose 𝓢ixteen

Dose Sixteen Observations:
Subject has new terms. Note that the subject wants a different outcome.

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I woke up the next morning with a headache.

It made me groan, burying my face deeper in the pillows as I tried not to recall the hazy memories that made up last night.

How I fucking called her.

It made me want to never get out of bed, especially not to face reality.

What was I thinking?

I wasn’t.

That’s why.

I had too much wine, and Monroe had been leaving me breakfast this entire time.

And that’s what did it.

A groan vibrated in my chest, contemplating every decision I’ve made up until this moment.

I couldn’t sleep if I tried.

And my head was fucking pounding, so I forced myself to get up and take some medicine.

I also brushed my teeth and washed my face with cold water, hoping that would help me feel better.

It helped decently, but not enough to sway me from lying back down.  

I ordered breakfast from a nearby local spot, determined to spend my entire day in bed.  

I get to stay home today, so I planned to take full advantage of that.

I checked my phone really quickly after placing my order on DoorDash, wondering if she had followed up after last night.

There was nothing from Monroe.

That’s good.

It’s a good thing.

I didn’t plan to call her back anyway.

And I definitely didn’t plan to text her.

Yet, weirdly enough, I was expecting some sort of text from her.

Instead, there was a different text.

From my mother.

She had sent a link to something with another message that read—

Care to explain?

It made my brows furrow, quickly clicking the link to see what she was talking about.

Then the press conference popped up.

The one from Monday.

Numerous articles had apparently been fucking posted today, reporting on any updates with Levane.

I was front and center in the picture taken of the Levane employees seated in rows.

Fuck.

Okay-okay, but I don’t owe my mother an explanation.

I don’t owe anyone an explanation, actually.

I take care of myself—I pay my own bills.

No one has any say on what I choose to do with my life, so it’s fine.

A deep sigh fell from my lips, trying to figure out what to even say back to her message.

I contemplated for seconds on end until I gave up, deciding to stick with the easiest option.

I quickly began typing up my message, not giving it any further energy or thought.

Me: it’s a long story.

It was blunt and vague, but I didn’t care.

There was no way I was about to give her a full explanation over text.

I also didn’t plan on answering any of her calls right now.

There’s just a lot going on, and I already know she’s going to have a lot to say about all of this.

I briefly closed my eyes, rolling on my side to cuddle up beside Jynx.

I dropped my phone on the mattress beside me, deciding to rest my eyes until my food arrived.

There was no way I would be sleeping anytime soon.

Not with everything on my mind.

Specifically, last night.

It made me cringe every time.

Thirsty Thursday?

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why would I say that?

I swear the hazy memories haunted me all morning, even as I ate the pancakes I ordered.

I tried to sleep more, but even my dreams were weird.

I genuinely wished I could just scrub the entire phone call from my memory and never remember it again.

But that wasn’t fucking possible.

All weekend.

The call was on my mind all fucking weekend.

It didn’t help that I didn’t exactly have any plans either, minus having dinner with Zion and Sarai on Saturday night.

My brain had time to pick apart everything.

How concerned Monroe was at the beginning of the call.

Her soft laugh.

The Briggszilla thing.

Even how bent she was on celebrating my fucking existence, or ensuring I was fed for the day.

I knew if she was at Levane on Monday, that I wouldn’t be speaking to her.

Let alone even glancing in her direction.

I was trying to hold onto the memory of that night, months ago.

And somehow that night keeps feeling further and further away.

It was irritating.

She doesn’t get to just reappear in my life and make one of the worst nights of my life feel like it never happened.

When Monday came, I had to give myself a pep-talk in the bathroom mirror as I did my makeup, determined to stand my ground.

And there better not be breakfast waiting at my desk either.

I’m sure she knows better.

I decided to keep my outfit simple.

Black dress pants with a deep burgundy blouse, slipping on a pair of leopard-print stilettos.

My hair was down in silky waves, and my face was covered with minimal makeup.

For once, in the last few days, I had gotten up early enough to properly get ready for work.

It felt nice.

I think it also helped with my confidence.

Whether that was with myself or with my workday.

Either way, I was actually ready to go to work.

Levane was as busy as usual on a Monday, different people passing by through the lobby.

Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone on the way up to the tech division.

Whether that was Monroe or even Briggszilla.

My morning was peaceful.

And I was looking forward to the Pop-Tart I packed myself for breakfast.

Who needs the fancy-healthy stuff that Monroe would leave for me?

I honestly should’ve known she was behind it.

Every meal seemed to be healthy—no pancakes or waffles.

And definitely no French Toast.

It was always eggs of some sort, maybe a wrap, even avocado toast.

But never anything sugary.

That had Monroe written all fucking over it.

“Look who’s early,” Zion said as he sat down next to me.

“I missed Friday, so,” I jokingly mumbled, my short nails clicking on my keyboard. “I have some stuff to catch up on.”

“Chipper,” I heard Grayson call out, entering the tech division with a few other coworkers.

“Grayson,” I greeted back, even if my tone was more monotoned than the one he previously used.

“Glad to see you’re back today,” he said, sitting down across from me and Zion. “It wasn’t the same without you on Friday.”

“You mean it was quieter?” Zion joked, nudging my arm lightly.

I rolled my eyes with a growing smile. “Yeah, okay. I make things interesting.”

“You do-you do,” Zion didn’t hesitate to say as he got his computer turned on.

“Wexler made her usual Friday milkshakes,” Grayson told me as he unpacked everything from his messenger bag. “You missed it.”

“Oh yeah,” I whispered, recalling the delicious milkshakes she gave out the Friday before last. “It sucks that I missed it.”

“Not for me,” Grayson joked, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I got yours as an extra.”

“Traitor,” I mumbled with a narrowed look.

Grayson immediately held his hands up in defense. “I didn’t want to be wasteful,” he argued my point.

I only hummed blankly. “Sure, milkshake stealer,” I said, earning a sharp gasp from Grayson.

“Wow, I give you the most positive nickname, and that’s what I get?” Grayson asked with a dramatically offended look. “Milkshake stealer?”

“Are you not a milkshake stealer?” I purposely asked, tilting my head with an amused smile.

“You weren’t here. It would’ve been wasteful,” he reminded me, making my smile grow wider.

It’s just funny how offended he is by the new nickname, but I get it.

I really didn’t want to be labeled the office whore.

“Fine,” I sighed, glancing back down at my computer. “You aren’t a milkshake stealer.”

Grayson hummed happily. “I know,” he murmured as I grabbed my headphones.

Once they were on my head and turned on, I got back to work, determined to not only catch up on Friday’s work but also get ahead for the week.

I didn’t look up once.

Not even when people would leave the tech division to use the bathroom or grab water, and then come back.

I was entirely zoned in, focused on the bright computer screen.

At least until Zion tapped my shoulder, diverting my attention away from the current project I had pulled up on the computer.

I furrowed my brows, noticing everyone around us standing up from their desks.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sliding my headphones off my head.

“There’s lunch downstairs, apparently,” Zion said, turning his phone around to me. “This is what Grayson emailed to everyone.”

I furrowed my brows at the picture, noticing the buffet of Chinese food.

There were so many fucking options that it overwhelmed me.

It didn’t help that the bright computer screen fucked with my vision.

“Everyone’s hype,” Zion said, lowering his phone. “You’re coming right?”

I nodded.

Then—

I shook my head.

“No-or uh, I will later,” I tried my best to say, suddenly realizing this was purposeful.

Why else is there a catered lunch downstairs?

She did this.

I said no to breakfast.

And then she goes and does this.

I said I wouldn’t talk to her.

I said I would keep my distance.

But right now, I really want to fucking talk to her.

I want to get it through her head that not only can she stop leaving me breakfast, but I don’t need lunch either.

I also don’t need dinner, or snacks, or just any food.

Yes, any food in general.

I knew I should’ve clarified better.

Monroe is always so particular about how she words things.

“I can bring you a plate if you want,” Zion said, standing from his chair.

I shook my head, refusing to eat anything from that buffet.

“I’m good, but thank you,” I murmured.

“Suit yourself,” Zion said as he walked past me. “See you in a few.”

“See you,” I said, watching as he walked out into the hallway.

I was left in silence.

Only for a few brief moments, genuinely contemplating the idea weighing down my head.

Going to her office.

I said I wouldn’t fucking talk to her.

That I wouldn’t even look at her.

Yet there I was—

Standing from my desk with an irritated sigh.

Every muscle in my body felt really fucking tense, especially as I walked down the hallway to the end where Sienna sat waiting.

“I’m going to speak with Dr. Leclair,” was all I said as I passed her, refusing to stop and acknowledge her presence further.

I’m sure Monroe acknowledges her presence plenty, especially now that she says her name.

That really doesn’t matter, but I’m sure she doesn’t need me to acknowledge her.

“Dr. Leclair is in a meeting—”

Sienna cut herself short as soon as I twisted one of the cold door handles.

And it was too late at that point.

I had already pushed the door open, taking it upon myself to walk into her office.

I expected people to be seated around the long conference table to the side of her office.

But no.

There was no one in here.

Except Monroe herself, who was focused on her computer, listening intently to the online meeting she was having.

Her blue eyes shifted to me the moment I walked in.

Nothing.

Her expression gave me nothing.

She just looked at me for a moment, calmly watching as I closed the door behind me.

I didn’t say anything.

I refused to as I walked toward her desk, a narrowed look openly on my face.

“I’m concluding this meeting,” Monroe suddenly spoke, her smooth voice echoing through the air.

The two voices went silent immediately.

Only for a few seconds.

Then one said—

“We must go over international procedures.”

The voice sounded French—I could hear the heavy accent.

I clenched my jaw when her blue eyes still didn’t waver from me.

“I’ll have my assistant set up a second meeting,” Monroe determined, her stare holding mine. “We’ll pick this up next time,” was all she added before finally glancing down, hanging up the video call with them.

Silence burned in the air around us, so ferociously, that I thought fire might strike.

I didn’t sit down.

I barely stood ten inches away from her desk.

“You had lunch catered,” was all I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Monroe didn’t respond.

She just calmly stood from her desk, making my head tilt back slightly as my dark eyes followed her.

The black button-down shirt clung to her torso perfectly, and her dress pants emphasized her waist just right.

Her brown hair was down in waves, her bangs framing her face, covered in light makeup.

“Lunch, dinner, every fucking food group is off the table,” I clarified, my jaw tightening as she approached me. “I’m not going to have this conversation again.”

“You aren’t?” Monroe asked, tilting her head slightly as she stopped right in front of me.

She didn’t look amused.

But her words sounded amused.

She’s not taking me seriously.

“Didn’t I just say that?” I pointed out, narrowing my eyes at her.

Monroe hummed.

Then she glanced away from me, her lips twitching up just slightly.

I almost contemplated whether I had hallucinated it.

Whether she actually had the nerve to smile at me right now.

“Liberty,” she murmured in a tone that made annoying goosebumps prickle down my spine. “I can only hold myself back to a certain extent, but you’re driving me insane.”  

“Good.”

The word fell from my lips before I could think it through further.

But it was good.

I’m happy I’m driving her insane.

I hope it keeps her up at night.

I gasped when she calmly grabbed the front of my throat, wrapping her soft hand around my warm skin.

My palms were pressed against her shoulders the moment she pulled me closer, her blue eyes darker than before.

“I know I hurt you,” Monroe suddenly spoke again, her voice lowered softly between us.

Her words were in a soft whisper, yet so much firmness was laced into her tone.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she clarified when I remained silent, staring up at her with nothing but irritation. “This is more complex—”

“I don’t care,” I firmly cut her short, purposely digging my nails into her covered shoulders.

Monroe didn’t flinch.

She didn’t react whatsoever, actually.

She only hummed, her blue eyes trailing my face.

“I’ll continue to cater lunch,” was all she said, subtly pressing her thumb against the front of my neck until it made every inch of my body light up. “I’ll cater as many meals as I please, Liberty. You’ll have the option to eat or not eat, so long as the choice is there for you.”

“I won’t eat. Every time that’s the choice I’ll choose,” I emphasized.

Monroe tilted her head, just enough to emphasize her jawline.

“I know you can be a good girl,” she whispered so softly that I made shivers roll through my body. “You used to be such a good girl for mommy, Liberty.”

 Her words made the warmth around me worse.

And the space between our bodies suddenly felt even smaller.

Her hand around my throat was nearly burned into my skin, like her handprint would linger forever.

Then there was the urge.

The urge to close the space.

To hook up with her yet again.

No strings attached.

Just like before.

Especially when she’s looking at me like that.

With that darkened look behind her blue eyes, holding me in place without a say in it.  

“Liberty,” Monroe said as soon as I smoothed my hands across her shoulders.

“Another distraction,” I emphasized, running my hands past her firm arms.

Monroe only stared at me.

For barely a few seconds.

Then she glanced away from my presence entirely.

And let go of my neck.

“I can’t,” was all she said, making something sting deep inside me.

 But I refused to let it affect me.

Her rejection means nothing.

It’s her loss anyway.

“I couldn’t think properly after last time,” Monroe emphasized, suddenly sliding her hands into the pockets of her dress pants. “I couldn’t step foot inside this building all last week, knowing you were here. Knowing I would want you again, Liberty.”

I was tensely silent, my breath caught in my throat.

All I could do was wordlessly stare at her, trying not to let her get to me.

“You standing in my office is a risk, especially with those doors closed and numerous surfaces to bend you over,” Monroe spoke again, her voice dangerously low with me. “I sent someone to monitor you over the weekend.”

I immediately furrowed my brows at her words. “What?” I asked, entirely caught off guard by what she admitted.

Monroe tilted her head. “I couldn’t resist it anymore—god have I resisted it for an impossible amount of time,” she said, rolling her shoulders back with the deepest exhale. “Months. I’ve resisted watching you for months, for reasons you refuse to know, and I gave in this weekend. I had to know what you did, how you did it, and when you did it.”

I blinked a few times, my brows furrowing as I tried to think of something to say.

But her words made me feel so irritated and warm at the same time.

It was so fucking weird.

“I can’t agree to a distraction,” Monroe suddenly determined, taking a large step back from me with the roughest sigh. “Because you’re more than a distraction. You’re more than an obsession, Liberty.”

I shook my head with furrowed brows, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.  

Her words contradicted everything.

Every belief I had in my head was now twisted in confusion.   

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

It was all I could think to say, and my face felt like it was on fire as I said it, her darkened stare sinking into mine.

“And you’re infuriating, Liberty,” Monroe countered back, her chest visibly rising with a deep inhale, “You’re also irresistible, too. My god.”

“Monroe,” I sighed with irritation, hating that her words only added to the fire lit all around us.

The flames sinking around me felt uncontrollable at this point.

I felt uncontrollable—like I was willingly walking into this fire with her.

“You need to leave,” she suddenly determined, forcefully glancing away from me. “Get out of my office.”

“Or what?” I purposely asked, even if I knew I was playing a dangerous game.

One that I shouldn’t be playing.

I shouldn’t even be talking to her.

Or wanting yet another distraction from her.

But then I’m here—I’m standing in front of her, and she talks.

She says these annoying fucking words, and somehow, all I want to do is fuck up everything.

I want to fuck up everything I’ve built, and I can’t even help it.

It was naïve and so stupid.

I knew it was.

“Leave, Liberty,” Monroe repeated yet again.

I took a step forward anyway, making her jaw visibly tighten.

“We can do distractions,” I offered, my voice raspy and my mind swirling with bad decisions that I haven’t made yet.

But a hook-up situation wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Just casual hook-ups,” I added when Monroe remained silent, watching as I slowly closed the space between us with each step.

“Nothing about this can be casual,” Monroe didn’t hesitate to say, shaking her head when I stopped in front of her.

“We’ll do another agreement. Nothing attached, like it was always meant to be,” I determined, even if I knew it was a bad idea.

Anything involving her always was.

I knew I would regret even offering this idea.

Monroe was silent, her blue eyes holding mine so deeply that it made me wonder if she could see past them into my head.

“Is that what you assume, Liberty?” she asked, her blue eyes narrowing just slightly at me. “It was always meant to be like this?”

“Yeah,” I didn’t hesitate to say, the word breathless from my lips.

She didn’t say anything.

I knew she was thinking deeply, whether it was about her next words or what should happen next.

The silence felt heavy between us, weighed down with tension and possibility.

The possibility of doing this all over, maybe even the correct way.

It would be like repeating history, but changing the way it all went.

Is she willing to change it with me?

That’s the real question here.

One that I can’t tell based on her unreadable expression.  

I unconsciously held my breath, anticipating the next words from her.  

I knew one thing, though.

This time around, everything would be on my terms—the contract, the hookups.

It would all be up to me.

I’m rewriting every decision I made months ago.