I awoke, feeling a slight chill on my body. As I sat up, I realized that I was completely unclothed.

What the hell?

I looked around me and then remembered the events of the night before. I had had sex with Brandon after my first date with him.

I groaned and fell back against my pillows.

"I'm an idiot," I said aloud to myself. Then I looked around. Where was he?

I sat up again and peered over the edge of my bed. My dress lay on the ground in a wrinkled mess and my bra and panties lay beside it innocently. I furrowed my brows. Brandon's clothes were nowhere to be seen.

I frowned. He had left. I looked around for a note or something indicating why he was not here, but there was nothing. I checked my phone and there were no messages. Well, no messages from Brandon, at least.

There were, however, seventeen from Duke.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

I was late. Scratch that. I was super late. I jumped out of bed, gathering the sheets around my body and ran into the bathroom to take a sixty second shower. Then I jumped out of the shower, blow drying my hair and brushing my teeth at the same time. I ran into my room, my towel clutched around my body and pulled out a pair of dark wash blue jeans and a white tank top with a bow on it. I threw on a black linen blazer and pulled my hair into a haphazard bun at the nape of my neck. I applied concealer under my eyes and pulled on a pair of black heels and then sprinted out of my room.

"Hey! You're up--!" Denise began when she saw me.

"Can'ttalkI'msuperlate!!" I yelled, pouring some coffee into a cup, spilling some on the floor. Without another word, I flew out the door and got into my car. I sped to the studios, getting a ticket due to driving 60 in a 35 zone, and managed to get to the studios just 30 minutes late.

I clutched my side when I walked into the studio that Duke was in. I could feel sweat on my forehead as I breathed in and out, a sharp pain in my sides.

"You're late," I heard the all-too familiar voice of Duke say. I took another deep breath and stood up straight, glaring at him for pointing out the obvious. "Did you just run a mile?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and looking at me with a smirk.

"I'm going to punch you in the face if you keep talking," I hissed, wiping my forehead with a napkin. He smirked and his eyes glinted malovently.

"Patrice is pissed--" he informed me.

"I'm going to kill you," I said.

"She's not happy that you're late after she so kindly gave you a day off--" he kept going.

"I'm seriously going to blow your head off your shoulders," I said.

"And she probably won't give you that luxury again--" he continued.

"Bam. You're dead," I said.

"No, that would be you," I heard a sharp, high-pitched voice say. I flinched as I heard the pointed heels of Patrice getting closer. I really wanted to smack Duke and get that cocky smirk off his face.

"30 minutes late to work?!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes flashing in anger.

"I'm so sorry--" I started.

"I've never met anyone so irresponsible!" she cried.

"It won't happen again--" I tried to explain.

"I have every mind to fire you right now," she said.

"Please don't do that. You know you don't want to--" I begged. She glared at me. "I'm so, so sorry," I repeated. She stepped closer to me, bringing her mouth to my ear.

"If this happens again, you're gone," she hissed, sending chills of fright down my spine. Then she walked away quickly, her heels echoing against the shiny floors.

"Oh my God, I thought she would eat me alive," I breathed once she was out of sight.

"Nah, too many calories," Duke said, a smile on his lips. I gave him a look and he tried to pull a straight face.

"I can't believe I was so late. I'm never late if I can help it," I said.

"Must have had a pretty crazy night, then," Duke said, walking in step with me as we made our way to where the scene was going to be shot. I felt color rise to my cheeks as I thought of the intensity of the passion of the night before. My body felt warm just thinking about it.

"Shut up," I mumbled. He smirked further.

"So how'd the date go?" he asked.

"None of your business," I replied, trying to control my speeding heart rate.

"You're blushing," he pointed out, poking my cheek.

"Will you please cut it out. I don't discuss my personal life with my co-workers," I said.

"Only, we're not really co-workers," he said. I gave him a look and he put his hands up, backing away slightly. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me and then walking away to the director. I glared at his receding, muscular back.

While Duke was doing his scenes, I kept checking my phone to see if Brandon left any messages. There was nothing. He had left no explanation as to why he had left in the morning.

For some reason, this really bothered me. Because from what I knew, the couple was supposed to stay in bed the morning after. Or at least, that was the romantic way to do things.

What did it mean if he left? Did he not enjoy it? Did I do something wrong? Had I woken up too late? Did he have work?

But I'm sure if he had work, he would have left a note or sent a text. Right? Or was I wrong?

Why did he leave?

                                                 ~~~~~~~

After the shoot, I accompanied Duke to a boutique to pick some clothes up.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked him as we waited for the employee to bring out his clothes.

"You just did," he said, a smile on his lips. I rolled my eyes at him.

"A serious question," I added.

"What's up?" he asked. I pursed my lips.

"Never mind. It's too personal. You probably won't tell me," I said, changing my mind quickly. I started to walk away from him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, his blue eyes flashing.

"Just ask the damn question, Valerie," he said. I bit my lip, wondering how to phrase the question.

"When you wake up the day after you slept with someone, you stay in bed until morning, right? You don't just get up and leave before the other person wakes up?" I asked. He furrowed his brow.

"Are you asking me or are you asking in general?" he asked.

"Both," I replied.

"I've always stayed in bed with the person. And if I ever had to leave before the person woke up, I would leave a note or send a text saying where I was," he answered. I frowned.

"What about in general?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I guess it would be sex etiquette to stay in bed with the person," he replied. I felt color rise to my cheeks. "Why are you asking this?" he asked me, noting the blush on my cheeks.

"None of your business," I answered.

The girl brought his clothes out.

"I have to try these on to make sure they tailored them right," he told me, nodding towards the fitting rooms.

"Hurry up. You have an audition in two hours," I said. He walked into the room.

"You have to tell me what happened," he said as I stood outside the fitting room.

"I said it's nothing of importance to you," I replied.

"Come on, Valerie. You have to tell me," he pushed. He walked out in a fitted white dress shirt.

"The sleeves are too short," I commented.

"I know. People are useless," he said, unbuttoning it. He looked at me. "Did you sleep with that guy last night?" he asked.

I turned my face away, my cheeks blazing with color. I knew he was smirking.

"He left you in the morning, didn't he?" he continued. I remained silent. "Wow, you must suck in bed, then," he commented. I turned to face him now, my eyes flashing in anger.

"Duke! That's extremely inappropriate," I scolded. His eyes widened at my reaction.

"I was kidding..." he muttered.

"It doesn't matter! You're not supposed to joke about something like that," I said, turning away from him.

I heard him sigh in frustration. Then I felt his hands on my arms and he turned me so I faced him. I kept my head down. He placed his finger under my chin, forcing my face up so I would have to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized in a surprisingly sincere voice.

"Go away," I pouted, pushing his arms off of me.

"I can't believe you're getting mad at me. This is ridiculous," he said.

"You're ridiculous! There's a limit to how you joke with someone, Duke! I'm not a friend of yours that you can say things like that to," I cried. He winced. "I'm your assistant. You can't joke with me in that way," I told him, making my voice a little softer.

"I always make fun of you," he pointed out.

"This is different. This is extremely personal. I shouldn't have told you in the first place," I said.

He was quiet. Then he turned and walked back into the fitting room to try on his other things. He didn't walk out to show me. He tried everything on, then walked out, ignoring me, and went up to the counter to tell the lady what fit and what needed fixing. After paying for his other things, we left.

I drove him to his audition. He was supposed to guest star on House M.D. He got the part and then we went back to Patrice to tell her.

The entire time, we stayed silent. We didn't speak to one another, speaking only to tell each other what was happening next.

I knew I had upset him by telling him off. But he needed to know that we weren't friends. We were co-workers and there was a certain line that could not be crossed between two working people. I knew that it was partially my fault. I had become too friendly with him too quickly. For some reason, I kept forgetting that he wasn't a friend that I was hanging out with. He was a celebrity and I was his assistant. Our relationship was not supposed to be that casual and intimate. It had to be more professional. I had let my guard down and dropped my professionalism. I needed to regain my composure and redefine the terms of our relationship. I was the assistant. He was the celebrity. That was it.

                                                     ~~~~~~~~

The next two weeks went by like this. I took Duke to his shootings, for the movie and for the episode of House. Then I would go pick his clothes up from the dry-cleaners or do his shopping for him or read his mail and send his bills to Patrice to take care of. I quickly fell into the same routine and realized that this was how my life as an assistant was going to be. I essentially lived Duke's every day life for him, but without the perks of enjoying it.

Duke and I stopped talking. We would converse only when we had to. Otherwise, we would sit silently. Whenever we walked somewhere together, I would stay a few steps behind him. Patrice noticed this change and seemed absolutely delighted by it. I think she was finally satisfied that I was doing my job the way I was supposed to.

But what was different was that Duke didn't yell at me anymore. If I did something wrong or forgot to do one of his errands, his face would show annoyance, but he wouldn't say anything. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me or if he was just respecting what I had told him. If it was the second case, then I guess I got what I wanted.

But the problem was, I missed arguing with him about little things. I missed the little back-and-forth banters we had.  With him not talking to me, it seemed like the job was boring and worthless. I wasn't getting anything out of it.

About a month went by and I guess Patrice's initial excitement at our civil relationship was beginning to wear off. She sat me down one day while Duke was in rehearsal.

"So, I couldn't help but notice that you and Duke are less than friendly nowadays," she said casually, leaning back in her leather chair and peering at me over his glasses.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"You two don't argue anymore. You hardly even talk," she pointed out.

"We realized that the relationship we had was less than professional. We're acting like how we should be acting," I replied.

"But the thing that made you different than his other assistants was the fact that he was able to talk to you about things," she said. I blinked.

"What?"

"You know, like a friend," she clarified.

"But I'm his assistant--" I began.

"And as an assistant, it's important not only to manage the daily life of the celebrity, but to be there for him," she said. She leaned forward a little, taking her glasses off. "You realize that as a celebrity, it's very difficult to find a good friend that will keep your secrets and keep things confidential," she told me.

"There aren't very many people that a celebrity can talk to and trust. As an assistant, you're not allowed to release information about the celebrity to anyone. As part of the job, you have to keep everything confidential, which is why an assistant is the perfect person to befriend," she continued.

I frowned, trying to understand. Was she telling me to become friends with Duke Starr?

"The thing that set you apart from others that have had this job was that he's comfortable with you. Not only are you close to his age group, but you're witty and smart and able to carry on a conversation with him. The others couldn't do that. They were all older than him and couldn't relate. They had children and marital problems. He couldn't relate to that," she explained.

"I thought that we had to be professionals. I thought I wasn't supposed to consider him a friend," I told her.

"Why not? It would actually be better if you were friends. It would make your job more enjoyable and make him more comfortable. This polite relationship that you two have taken on isn't good for either of you. And I can tell, he doesn't like it. But he won't say anything because of you," she said.

"He was never afraid to make his opinion known before," I pointed out. She shrugged.

"Maybe he's not willing to admit it, but he misses you," she said.

I sighed and bit my lip. I knew I was going to have to talk to him, now. I just didn't know what exactly I would say.

______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Why do you think Brandon left before Valerie woke up? What do you think will happen between Duke and Valerie? Will they solve their problems?

Find out next time!!!

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