Off Limits Read Online Free Page B

but maybe we’re just too different. Sometimes lately, I’ve started to wonder.
    I guess she’s been wondering too.
    “Heather, I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we hung out,” I say.
    She cuts me off. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Don’t say it’ll change. It never does. Call me when you’ve decided I’m worth something, okay?”
    With that, the call disconnects, and I’m left standing barefoot and alone in the middle of my huge, expensive, gorgeous kitchen, holding a spoonful of slowly melting ice cream over a tub that’s freezing the fingers off my hand.
    I click the phone off, toss it on the counter, and pace out into my living room.
    Normally, this apartment makes me happy. It’s a constant reminder of how far I’ve come, and everything I’ve managed to make out of my life. The hardwood floors, high ceilings, and leather furniture strewn with cozy fur blankets and comforters is everything I used to dream about as a kid, watching home decorating shows on my parents’ crappy black-and-white TV, in our rundown living room that converted to my bedroom at night, since we could only afford a one-bedroom place.
    Now, the TV takes up my entire wall above the fireplace, and I can totally immerse myself in any movies or shows I choose to watch.
    When I have time to. Which, admittedly, is pretty much never.
    I sigh and cross the room to slump onto my couch. Out the window to my left, the lights of San Francisco sparkle in the distance. But in here, I keep the lights off, and my head buried in the pint of ice cream. Ice cream that I need more than ever tonight, even though, after that phone call, it’s pretty much lost all its flavor for me.
    What am I doing with myself?
    But I already know the answer to that. I’m building a better life. A better future than my mom’s. No matter what it takes.

Four

Max
    “ A nd then , I shit you not, she says ‘So are you coming to my place, or what?’ Can you believe that worked?”
    “I really, really can’t. Sure you didn’t just dream that part?” I lift my beer for another swig as Marcus aims a slug at my arm. It doesn’t even interrupt my drink. “Weak, Marcus.”
    “Whatever, man, you’re just jealous. How long has it been since you got any action?”
    “None of your business, that’s how long.”
    Across the table, Jim whistles in response.
    “So that’s at least six months to a year, don’t you figure, Jim?” Marcus shoots back, though he’s grinning as he picks up his own pint glass.
    “That, or someone’s hindered by the non-fraternization policy,” Jim points out, and hoists his eyebrows significantly at me.
    “Tempting as it may be, I don’t mix business and pleasure,” I reply evenly.
    “Tell that to the new girl at the front desk.” Marcus smirks. “What’s her name? D-something—no, wait, that’s her cup size.”
    “It’s Hannah,” I interrupt. “And she’s not really my type.” Too much giggling and following me around the hallway all day for my taste. But I don’t need to add that. Clearly the guys already noticed. Great, I wonder how long this rumor train will last. Couldn’t be any worse than the time Marcus told half the office I was hooking up with that girl Melanie in accounting who wouldn’t stop interoffice mailing me Sweetheart candy, at least.
    That was a new personal low.
    “If she’s not your type, you’re either a zombie, or you’re more into Marcus here,” Jim replies, jerking a thumb at Marcus, who has chosen this moment to stuff a fistful of loaded fries into his face.
    “Pass.” I push back my chair. “I’m going for another round, anyone else?” They both nod, so I head up to the bar to order three more. The pub is quiet tonight. It’s a tiny little hole-in-the-wall a block from our office—a shit hole, really, with sticky floors, a weird smell that I’m pretty sure is still lingering from back when you used to be able to smoke inside dives like this, and only one bartender slash