"Hey, it's Alex." I say into the phone, the next morning. I only have to be at work in an hour. It's seven o'clock, so I have a tiny bit of time to do what I want to.
"Hello Alex. I need you at the office." Dylan orders. Never mind then.
"Alright. I'll be there in 15 minutes." I say. He ends the call, but I look down at my clothing. Damn. I'm in sweat pants and a shirt.
I run up the stairs, I throw on black chinos and a white blouse, and finally, I put on my leather jacket and motorcycle boots, and I leave my hair in its curls, and rush down to the office on my motorbike.
I arrive there, and check my watch. I'm two minutes early. I breathe a sigh of relief and run quickly to my office. I throw off my motorcycle boots, swapping them for sandals, I take off my leather jacket, leaving only the white blouse, and I fluff my hair a little, and run back to Dylan's office.
"Hi." I say as I walk inside, and try not to look out of breath. He scans my clothing and nods.
"Hi. Please sit down." He points to the chair. I nod, "I'm going on a conference call now. I need you to take notes."
He hands me a pen and paper. His fingers gently brush mine, but I take no notice.
The call starts and I scratch down the notes, and try to make my handwriting at least look appealing. This is not as hectic as taking notes in University. If you miss something, it doesn't matter. Finally, after an hour, the call ends. I have already made five pages of notes.
"Let me see." I hand Dylan the paper, "Damn, you write fast, and neat. Well done. Why haven't I used you to do this for me before? No girls hired before could do this." I raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?" I chuckle.
"I have already gone through about 8 personal assistants in a single month. I always seem to be hiring new ones. Most are just physically appealing, but that's all they really are, so I fire them." Dylan smirks. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Well. I'm not physically appealing, sorry to let you down." I hear him mumble something.
"Did you say something?" I ask. He laughs and shakes his head. I was sure he did. Something about him seeing something.
"I hope you don't mind Dylan. I brought my textbook. I really do need to study. By the way, I'm writing my exam in a week, on Tuesday." I admit, and smile awkward and haul out the big textbook.
"That's your textbook?" He asks. I laugh.
"Yeah. Do you want to see it?" I ask. He nods. I hand it to him. He flicks through the pages.
"I don't mind helping you study. I can test you. Just call me." He offers, I smile at him.
"Sounds good. Anyway, I'm starving." I say and rub my stomach.
"Let's get something to eat then shall we?" He leads me to the door.
"I would like that very much." I smile.
"Alright, wait for me to change, I don't want to be recognised." He says and I nod. He takes about 10 minutes, but he comes back out in a tee shirt and jeans, along with a cap and sunglasses. I take my own sunglasses out my bag.
"Do you have a ride?" Dylan asks. I smirk. I put my sunglasses on.
"Follow me." I lead the way.
"Here it is." I point towards my motorbike.
"Is that yours?" He asks and runs up to it.
"Yeah. It's a Harley Davidson Street 750." I point towards the black bike.
"Why thank you." I smile at him, "I really do take pride in it."
"Alright. Hope on then." I climb on the bike.
"Can I drive it? Please!" Dylan begs. I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, do you have a helmet?" He nods and runs back inside the building and comes out with a helmet. Why he has a helmet on hand, I don't know, but I put my own on, while he puts his on.
"Where to?" He asks.
"Shake Shack!" I beg.
"Okay!" He says and starts the engine, guiding us through the traffic.
"She goes like a dream!" Dylan shouts at me.
"Yeah. I know right! I fixed her up a little." I hold tight on his waist. I can feel the muscles underneath his shirt. Man alive. I'm dead.
"How do you eat a burger?" I ask Dylan, who is eating it with a knife and fork.
"Like this." He answers confused, "How do you eat a burger?"
I hold the burger with my two hands. "Like this." I take a big bite. He puts down his knife and fork. Rich people do super weird things. Who eats a burger with a knife and fork?
He picks up the burger, and takes a huge bite. He puts the burger back on his plate. Sauce is spread all over his face. I giggle.
"You have sauce everywhere." I smile and point to the red blotches of tomato sauce on his face. He takes his serviette and tries to wipe it, but he just makes it ten times worse as he spreads it everywhere. I shake my head. "Let me help you."
He smirks. I take my own serviette and wipe his face. "Thanks."
I smile. I pull my textbook out my bag again.
"Alright. Give it to me. I'm testing you."
"Okay, So..." He starts.
He asks me questions, and I answer. If I don't get them right, he flicks my wrist.
"Er... the vastus lateralis." He flicks my finger.
"No. Try again. Think about the question again."