The Hating Game

“So, you’re embarrassed of me?”

“No. Of course not. But no one can know. I think he’s a gossip. Oh, don’t give me that sourpuss face. People will talk about us.”

“Newsflash, people have always talked about us. And you don’t care if people talk about you and him, but not you and me?”

“You and I work ten feet from each other. It’s different. I want to reestablish some level of professionalism in this office.”

Josh pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll play it your way. If this is the last personal conversation we ever have in this building, then I’ll tell you now. Bring your bag on Friday.”

“What? What’s happening on Friday?”

“Bring in your stuff for the wedding. Your dress and stuff.”

At my walleyed stare, he reminds me. “You’re coming to my brother’s wedding. You insisted, remember?”

“Wait, why am I bringing my dress on Friday? The wedding is on Saturday. Is there a rehearsal? I didn’t agree to go to the wedding twice.”

“No. The wedding is at Port Worth and we have to drive there.”

I look at him, doubtful. “That’s not too far away.”

“Far enough away that we need to leave after work. Mom needs my help with a few things the night before.”

I’m filled to the brim with annoyance, terror, hurt feelings, and absolute certainty this is going to be a disaster. We stare into each other’s eyes.

“I knew you wouldn’t be happy but I also wasn’t expecting such complete horror.” Josh leans back in his chair and assesses me. “Don’t freak out.”

“We’ve never even gone to a movie together, or to a restaurant. I was nervous getting a ride in your car. And now you’re telling me I’m driving several hours with you and to bring my pj’s? Where are we staying?”

“Probably a seedy hotel.”

I am close to hyperventilating. I am this close to running down the fire escape. I’ve had a fair idea we’d at some point get around to playing the Or Something Game. I imagined it in his blue bedroom, or while hissing hurtful insults at him in the cleaner’s closet. But too much has happened today.

“I was kidding, Lucy. I have to talk to my mom about where we’re staying.”

“I didn’t properly think about meeting your parents. Look, I’m not coming. You were a real asshole to me just now, remember? You don’t need help beating me, remember? I’d have to be crazy to help you now. Go by yourself like a big loser.”

“You made the commitment. You promised. You never break your word.”

I shrug and my moral fibers strain uncomfortably. “Like I care.”

He decides to play his ace card. “You’re my designated moral support.”

It is the most intriguing thing he could have gone with. I can’t resist.

“Why exactly do you need moral support?” He doesn’t answer, but shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

I raise my eyebrows until he relents.

“I’m not dragging you along as my sex slave. I won’t lay a finger on you. I just can’t walk in without a date. And that’s you. You owe me, remember? I helped you vomit.”

He looks so grim I have a chill of foreboding.

“Moral support? Will it be so bad?”

His cell begins to ring, and he looks between it and me, torn.

“The issue here is timing. I have to take this.”