The Last Word by A. L. Michael

idiot.
    ‘I was twenty-three! I thought he loved me!’ Tabby argued. ‘Don’t you think I’ve spent the last three years lying awake at night berating myself? I was a fucking excellent reporter, OK? I was outstanding. And then it was gone.’
    She felt herself deflate a little after her outburst, and worried that she might be on the verge of tears. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry was a little too close for comfort, staring straight back at her with something in his eyes that looked like admiration.
    He smiled at her, and gently pulled at that curl of her hair again, briefly brushing her cheek. ‘You are. Outstanding.’
    Had he shifted closer to her? Because he suddenly seemed to be taking over all of her space, his hand still hovering near her cheek, and he thought she was outstanding. Her breathing went shallow and all she could think was, ‘Kiss me, please, just fucking kiss me.’ Except that would be bad. She’d already screwed one editor.
    She met his eyes warily once again. It would almost be worth it. At least this time she’d know she was throwing away her career for a pointless fling. And like Chandra said, Harry looked like he knew how to show a girl a good time.
    And then of course, she came to her senses, and tore her eyes away from him, fighting whatever magnetic force he seemed to possess. Tabby stood up in a final sort of way, and raised her voice back to its normal volume.
    ‘So, now you know about that. Which is why Rhiannon gets protective. She wants me to stop writing “vapid shit” and get back to the real issues.’
    Harry’s body had relaxed once again, and it seemed like the moment had passed. Tabby was safely across the room, leaning on the table, watching him. He frowned into his wine glass and looked at her strangely. She tried not to marvel at the sight of Harry Shulman, editor, wearer of designer jeans and drinker of expensive wines, sitting on a sofa covered in Primark blankets. She also tried not to think about how natural and comfortable it seemed, having Harry at her flat. That maybe he could fit. The pink Converse were a beacon of hope, screaming out, ‘Hey look, I’m a normal person, just like you!’ Or maybe she was thinking too much.
    ‘It’s not vapid. It’s perspective. You, Tabby Riley, are a regular girl wonder. All those teenage girls on Twitter following you like you’re their goddess.’
    He stood up and took her wine glass from her, placing them both on the table. And once again he was back in her personal space, and she tilted her head up to face him. He took her hands.
    ‘Listen to me, Tabs, OK? You’re good at this. Fine, you were outstanding at the political stuff, but they don’t want that. Your fans want the witty, sarcastic, “Is a Jaffa Cake a biscuit?” thoughts of their personal princess, Tabby Riley. They want the real issues, but they want it from you. And that’s what makes you fucking spectacular, got it?’
    He really had to stop saying stuff that made her want to jump him. Earnest was a good look for him. Passionate wasn’t bad either.
    She squeezed his hands. ‘You’re going to have to stop with the pep talks or I’ll get the terrible impression that you’re a decent human being.’
    ‘Ouch.’ He let go of her hands. ‘I say all those lovely things about you, and I’m still sub-human?’
    ‘With excellent taste in shoes and wine,’ she offered with a shrug and a smile.
    ‘Oh, well then.’ He grinned, and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, looking at her with such frank affection that she couldn’t stand it.
    Tabby stepped back and took a few steadying breaths before plastering an unconvincing smile across her face.
    ‘So, we’re friends, or friendly colleagues, again. All settled, no hard feelings. So, I’ll see you on Monday for the brief.’
    Harry raised his eyebrows and took a step forward. ‘You kicking me out, Tabs?’ he said softly. ‘I thought we were making excellent progress.’
    As