Last week's insane work pace, the need to prove myself, and no sleep all took their toll: both my eyes got inflamed. I caught one look in the mirror, and that was enough. I promised the sorry wretch staring back at me that I'd leave her alone, not even glance her way.

I went to bed Sunday night with a bad feeling in my gut. I'd worked until three in the morning, and the second I hit send, my chest tightened.

I'd never had a recurring dream before. Definitely not the kind that leaves you waking up drenched in sweat and shaking. I knew someone who got chased through weeks of dreams by a rabbit with an evil grin and a giraffe.

I realized I'd never truly had a real man. One who was a man from head to toe, twenty-four hours a day.

Something in me had changed. I don't even know exactly how to put it into words. It was like a door had opened onto a whole different world — new, exciting.

I called Ryan. Locked myself in the bathroom, took a deep breath, and tapped his name on the screen. I could hear it in his voice — he was surprised.

I hadn't heard from Ryan in a full week. He didn't come by, didn't call, didn't even text. I don't get it. Just last week he'd stayed a few hours, even on a Sunday. I'd felt so close to him. And now he just vanishes.

Ben called Monday morning. That didn't go well either. Apparently I'd agreed to send back the finished catalog by May 29th, but I could swear I remembered June 9th.

My week started with a tiny little "oops." You know, the kind that makes you want to set your laptop on fire.

Ben is one hell of a manipulator. I didn’t dare put anything ahead of his work. Every day, I started with his material and only then moved on to the telecom translations. There seemed to be more and more of those arriving every week, too.