The Hating Game

“Well apparently I’m a complete open ebook.” I groan in the dark. “Did Mr. Bexley tell you about my digitalization project? Please don’t screw me on this, Josh. Please. My entire presentation is based on it.”

“Do you seriously think I’d do that to you?”

“No. Well, maybe.”

I expect a whip-crack response. He says nothing, but continues to massage my foot.

I flip the blanket off my face. “Why didn’t you smile at me when we first met, and say, Pleased to meet you? We could have been friends all this time.” It feels like a tragedy. I’ve lost so much, and we have no time left.

“We could never have been friends.”

I try to pull my foot back but he holds on to it.

“So that’s a sore point.” He squeezes the arch.

“I’ve always wanted to be friends with you. But you didn’t smile back. You’ve been one-up ever since.”

“I couldn’t. If I’d let myself smile back, and be friends with you, I probably would have fallen in love with you.”

It’s all the past tense of that statement that kills the leap of joy inside. Because he didn’t, and he isn’t. I try to brush over it.

“You said that to me after the elevator kiss. We’d never be friends.”

“I was angry at the time. I was delivering you to Danny, and you were looking hotter than hell.”

“Poor Danny. He’s so nice. You’ll have to apologize for how you hung up on him. He’s been nothing but nice to me and all I’ve done is give him two shitty dates and made him lose a Saturday.”

“He got to kiss you.” When he says that, Josh looks like he wants to destroy planets. “And he’s not doing the freelance work completely out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Under different circumstances he’d be a great boyfriend.”

Josh is making black scary serial killer eyes at me. “Different circumstances.”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re going to chain me in your basement and keep me as your sex slave.”

This conversation is like a tightrope. One misstep and he’ll know. He’ll know I’m in love, and then I’ll wobble and fall. No safety net.

“I don’t have a basement.”

“Too bad for me.”

“I’ll buy us a house with a basement.”

“Okay. Can I come with you when you house hunt?”

I smile despite the doomed sensation dripping into my blood. I love the energy we create between us when we banter like this. It’s the most intense sensation of pleasure, knowing he’ll always have the perfect response ready. I’ve never known anyone like him; as addictive to talk to as he is to kiss.

“Truth or Dare,” he says after a bit.

“It’s not my turn.”

“Yes, it really is.”

“Truth.” I have no choice. He’ll dare me to eat the mustard again.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know. I want to. Truth or Dare?”