Haze by Andrea Wolfe (best motivational books for students txt) 📕

Nothing with Jack had been even remotely short of breathtaking—the food, the sex, the talent, the looks, the personality, the care and concern. I would be an idiot to let him to go, because he was the fucking man of my dreams.

It didn't fucking matter if I felt unworthy, or if I felt inferior to the women he had dated in the past. None of that mattered anymore. I believed what he said, believed every word that came out of his lips like it was the most brilliant thing ever spoken. I had treated him to unjustified ups and downs, rushes of emotion that I had allowed to overtake me, to confuse and weaken me.

If I went back and analyzed his reassurances, his promises that everything would wind up okay, he had been right every single time after the dust settled. I was okay. I would survive. I was being overdramatic, immature and stupid. After so many years of thinking that men like Jack just didn't actually exist, I could understand my opposition, my brain's desire to move to slowly while my body wanted to travel at light speed.

Jack was real. This wasn't a dream. Everything would be okay. His offer was both pragmatic and dreamy, a situation in which infatuation concurred with reality. Things didn't usually happen this way—but if they could, why should I avoid them?

As if he had been listening to my mind all along, Jack called my phone, currently the only frustration-free way I could communicate with him. "Hi, Jack," I said, my voice masking the visible satisfaction on my face.

"I can tell you're smiling. What's up?"

"Drinking coffee at my usual spot. They offered me my job back." I wasn't sure how he would take the news.

"Great, just great. What'd you tell them?"

"Nothing yet. I thanked them for being reasonable. Sam's been suspended thanks to people defending me in the office."

Jack started laughing so hard I had to pull my phone away from my ear. "Those guys are like sharks. They terrorize everyone else until a bigger group of pricks come along and hunts them down." There was some commotion in the background. "Fuck it, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. I don't know why we're talking on the phone when I'm two blocks away." The call ended and I sat quietly, my coffee nearing completion.

Less than two minutes later, Jack popped up in the doorway. He glanced at the cup in front of me and then locked with my eyes. "Do you want anything else?" he called.

"Only if I don't have to decide what it is."

He nodded and started talking with the barista. I saw her eyes ogling him—I absolutely couldn't blame her—and it only made me prouder. Jack Teller was mine. They would look, but they couldn't touch.

After his order came up, he tossed a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar and walked to me with two mugs. "Here," he said, handing me a drink.

"What is it?"

"Just coffee. Black. They have a really nice French roast here. This batch was roasted today. Fresh as it gets."

"I'm not really a black coffee sort of person," I pleaded.

"Yeah, because shitty coffee isn't any good. Try it. I made her make a new pot."

As usual, he was right. It was a lush variety of fruity chocolately flavors that all came together in this one glass of hot liquid. I almost spit it out because of how surprised I was. "What the fuck am I drinking, Jack?"

His wry smile was as delicious as the drink. "People never drink any good coffee. Believe me. Some people live their whole lives drinking garbage. But this, this is bliss."

He was right in every possible way. I was sitting here in New York City, relaxing with Jack, sipping fresh coffee in the middle of the day—and everything was going to be all right.

Jack suddenly switched gears, his face becoming serious. "Effie, I just wanna say something."

"I do too," I interrupted.

A quizzical look emerged on his face. "Who goes first then?"

"Flip a coin?" I suggested.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold dollar coin. "My lucky coin. A very famous person gave me this."

"Does that mean I'm gonna lose then?"

"There's a fifty-percent chance you'll lose. Heads or tails?"

"Heads."

He flipped it. I won.

"I want to work for you," I blurted out, my voice cutting off abruptly.

"You do?" he asked, cocking up one eyebrow.

"Yes. That's my decision."

"Well, shit," he said, resting his head on his hand.

Oh great, what now? Had he given away the job or something? Was this all just a fluke? "Well, shit what?" I asked.

"I was going to tell you that MCI is most likely just giving you your job back so you won't sue them. And I was going to once again recommend that you walk away and, well, work for me." He righted his posture, and grinned. "I'm selfish. I want you all to myself."

I leaned across the table and grabbed his neck, pulling his face—and lips of course—against mine. I dominated his mouth, dominated his tongue with my own. Both of us tasted like coffee, and that was fine by me.

"I feel the same way," I said after lowering back into my seat.

"You want you all to yourself? And I thought I was the narcissist."

I giggled. "Shut up, Jack. Also, I love you too."

He wrapped his fingers through mine and closed them tightly. "Good."

This was a brand-new start, and it really didn't seem that anything could go wrong.

Chapter 21

Fuck, life was good.

It had been about two months since I started working for Jack—the HR guy seemed really disappointed that I turned down the reinstated position; I stuck to my ground anyway—and it was everything he had promised it would be. Challenging, fresh, and unique. I had my own desk and my own work area at the label. I didn't feel burned out when I went home, and having a hot as hell boss sure helped with