*HEADDESK*

I woke up this morning with a nagging dread in my gut.

Pavanne and I ate Chinese yesterday. This morning I kept flashing back to October of last year, when my friend and I were eating lunch at the local Chinese buffet, and the dipshit came in with his best bud. He was not quite the drumgod then, just *quiver*Brent, and he stopped at our table briefly and touched my arm, asking why I was back to work a day early from vacation. I still feel a sneaky smile cross my cheek at that thought. It was the beginning of one of our best conversations.

I continued to flash on other times when he'd spoken to me publicly, or even worse, waved me down like an airport ground crewman in the middle of the hallway - all those times I'd dismissed in my rant - "dirty little secret" ringing in my ears. The morning continued with that sour note, while I tried to remind myself that the principle remained true. I'd wanted to be friends with Tisha too, from the very beginning. I made a mental note to tell Pavanne to remind me of that when I got to work.

The morning passed quickly, I got a lot done. The thoughts continued to nag, and I continued to angrily push them away, growing more and more frustrated, despite delightful conversations with my FWB and another, as yet unmentioned fuckbuddy.

I spotted him down the hall, and wrestled with the memory of desire, the desire to bite that delicious ass, to lean against that broad back. I smiled at the antics of my friends, and kept a tight lid on my brain.

We went to the Chinese buffet again at lunch, second day in a row. I ate 5 pieces of sushi, 3 dumplings and a bowl of Hot & Sour Soup. And that's ALL. I couldn't believe it, but I was full enough to anticipate discomfort if I ate anything further. Something was wrong. I knew something was coming, and I didn't like it one bit.

When I returned from lunch, there was email waiting for me.  "Do you know...." he raised a single question, that I could answer in spades. Not only did I KNOW so-n-so, but I could dish. And when I did, I got back two email pages of rant regarding so-n-so's behavior; the drumgod was seething, his fury barely hidden behind the black words that danced across my screen. My jaw was clenched so tightly I couldn't speak. The thought of him growing angry over the last few days, the idea that he was about to blow, the knowledge of what he was capable of when he let himself go - the image in my mind of furiousBrent had my knees weak and my head banging my desk.

I WANT! I WANT! I WANT!!!!

DADDY GET MAD!

BLOW UP!

TAKE IT OUT ON HIM!

THEN

TAKE IT OUT ON

me.......

I didn't dive in. I did let one smart assed remark slide by, I'd hardly be the snark-kitten we all know and love if I hadn't. But I didn't do all the things, or any of the things, that I wanted to do. I deleted the email, after I let him rant a bit.

I didn't take the bait.

But I still can't get my jaws apart.

**headdesk**