Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

“So, this is what we’re working with,” I said, noticing he still hadn’t looked at me, his eyes on the unruly stacks. “Do you need me to explain anything, or do you want to just get stuck in?”

He began to roll up his shirtsleeves as he pulled out my gaming chair and sat down. Okay, so he had really nice forearms. I filed the information away for later ponderance.

“I’ll get started and will let you know if I have any questions,” Neil replied as he picked up one of my bank statements and scanned it.

“Okay, good. Do you want a cup of tea or coffee? I have a fancy Nespresso machine and a milk frother that makes a mean cappuccino.”

“It’s too late in the day for coffee,” Neil answered. “I’ll take a cup of tea, though.”

“Coming right up,” I said, saluting him as I went out into the combined kitchen slash living area.

Sarita and her girlfriend, Mabel, both sat on the couch watching RuPaul’s Drag Race.

“You bitches! I told you to call me when Drag Race started,” I complained as I went to turn on the kettle.

“It literally just started,” Sarita shot back. “And anyway, you have a guest. Isn’t that the same Neil Michaela works with?”

“Yes. He’s helping me with my accounts.”

“Thank God. I thought you were gonna try to do them yourself again.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad.”

“You wouldn’t be getting audited if you were good, Afric.”

I chewed my lip as I placed a tea bag in a mug then poured in hot water. “Make me feel good about myself, why don’t you,” I said glumly.

Mabel elbowed Sarita in the side, and my flatmate rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. All I’m saying is, I’m glad he’s helping you. From what Michaela says, the bloke is great at pretty much everything.”

“Here’s hoping,” I said as I went to bring Neil his tea. When I entered the room, I found he’d already started re-organising my bank statements into neat, orderly piles and was going through them one by one. He’d brought his laptop and had it open in front of him as he entered numbers into columns in an excel sheet.

“Your tea, good sir,” I announced as I set it down in front of him.

He barely glanced up as he pointed to an entry on one of my bank statements. “What’s Night Owl Accessories? It’s only come up once so far, and you have it marked down as a business expense.”

My brow furrowed as I eyed the name. I bought something for £150 last September, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. “I’m not sure. Let me check.” I pulled out my phone and Googled “Night Owl Accessories,” laughing quietly to myself when I saw it was the name of a parent company that owned an online store where I bought some sex toys.

Neil glanced at me, waiting. “Well?”

“Never mind. It’s not a business expense. Just put it under personal.”

“Are you certain? These accounts need to be perfect, Afric. You can’t afford any errors.”

Oh, well. I tried to let him off easy, but he did ask. “If you must know, the purchase was for a dildo and one or two items of a similar ilk.”

Neil

I couldn’t look her in the eye as I returned my attention to the screen of my laptop. I was certain my cheeks were flaming red at this point. Afric’s accounts were a delicious mess, but in the future, I’d just Google items I wasn’t sure about instead of asking her directly. Anything to avoid awkward moments like this. Then again, she didn’t seem awkward at all. On the contrary, she seemed to enjoy my embarrassment.

“You’re right,” I replied soberly. “That should definitely be under personal drawings.”

I continued transcribing, hoping she’d leave me to it, but instead, she came and leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded as she studied me.

“Could you turn on some normal lights? All the neon is giving me a headache,” I complained, feeling more uncomfortable the longer she studied me.

“Do you know who you remind me a little of?”

I shrugged, wishing she’d just go and let me work. “I don’t know. Who?”

“Tom Holland.”

“The actor? I don’t see it, but okay.”

“Well, obviously, you’re a bit older than him,” Afric allowed. “But the resemblance is uncanny.” Her lips formed a little smirk.

“Why are you smirking?”

“No reason.”

“There’s obviously a reason,” I stated flatly, getting annoyed now.

“Next time you have a moment, go and look up his performance on Lip Sync Battle. It’s pretty much my favourite thing on the internet.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I replied.

“I think it’d be a good Halloween costume idea for you. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.” Praise Jesus. “I’m going to watch Drag Race with Sarita and Mabel but give a call if you need anything.” Before she left, she turned off her many neon lamps and flicked the switch for the regular ceiling bulb.

I returned my attention to my computer and tried to focus on Afric’s bank statements, but my curiosity got the better of me. I navigated to Youtube and searched for the video she mentioned. Hitting play, I stared wide-eyed as Tom Holland lip synced to Rihanna’s “Umbrella” while wearing a wig, corset and hot pants. There was something oddly entrancing about the whole thing, though it was safe to say I’d never be confident enough to wear that as a Halloween costume.