Office Hate

Fighting commenced.

Welcome to the losers’ room, my friends. May the best man or woman win!

Chapter Fifteen

Mark

After our weird argument about why New York would always be better than the West Coast and why was I running away from something, to me calling her out for still wanting that perfect job in the perfect skyrise with her perfect stupid salad lunches and high heels, well…things got progressively worse when she said I’d end up on the beach living out of a rundown Jeep wondering where it all went wrong.

And then I was like, why the hell are we even arguing?

The ride in the SUV back to the apartments was tense and weird despite our tender moments during the games.

And by the time we got to the penthouse floor, it was little to no shock to see another manila envelope with a key in it and a giant box on the floor labeled “blankets.”

Mentioned nothing about pillows, though. Hmmm.

“May as well get this over with.” I grabbed the envelope, letting the key drop into my hand as I moved down the series of doors, finally opening the last one and realizing it was a closet.

Oh, hell no.

Olivia followed up close behind, arms crossed. “Is that it?”

“There’s barely enough space for the two of us, let alone all night.”

“We’ll have to stay close.”

I snorted in defiance when really my body was like, yes please, should I be the big spoon or the small? Ladies choice? “You sure you’re okay with being that close to me since I happen to like the warm weather and ocean?”

Her nostrils flared in a terrifying way that reminded me of every lesson my dad ever taught me, which almost always ended in, even when she’s wrong, she’s right! “Or is it just women in bikinis flaunting their boobs?”

I smirked and then shot her one of my best mocking winks even though it was one hundred percent true. “Hey, the only boobs I want to see are yours.” I reached out only to have her smack my hand away. “What? They’re nice.” I cleared my throat, the facade er, fading. “You’re nice.”

“Well, you—” She looked flustered and ready to stomp a foot or just kick me in the dick. “I’ll just go get some pillows to go with that stack of blankets.

She marched across the hall like a sergeant and made it to the master room door and, in a herculean effort, attempted to push the door open.

Nothing budged.

Not even a slight creak or movement.

The hell? We had our shit in there! And champagne! A fireplace. I’d built that damn bed frame!

“Do you still have the key?” I asked, telling myself to remain calm lest she punch me in all my sensitive places and then blame me for the locked door.

She gave me a sheepish look. “I kind of just left it on the counter. It was gone when I came back in to see you.”

Wait, so was this my fault?

Hmmmm, how to tread.

Carefully, yes, my brain reminded me very carefully, while every other part of my body was like, wait one hot minute, no master, no sexy clothes, no fancy bathroom sex, no dryer? Bummer of all bummers.

I sighed and sent a mental, sorry troops, not tonight.

Okay, focus!

“Right, okay.” I raked a hand through my longish hair. “So we just improvise and bring in the pillows from the couch; we’ll still be comfortable. And hey, we could, just kidding, can’t stay on the couch somehow they’ll know we didn’t spend time in the room of losers or shame as I’d like to call it. Are they actually watching us?”

“Even the throw pillows are huge,” she pointed out.

“So grab just one,” I said, irritated.

With a scowl, she snatched up one of the black ones and tossed it, then scrambled across the room and picked up a chair.

So the first of us had cracked.

Good to know it wasn’t me!

“Look!” She pointed up to a blinking light behind one of the potted plants set next to the flat screen. I’d honestly seen the plant dozens of times and kept thinking, how great, the greenery looked against the wall and stupidly commenting on it in my God awful notebook that may as well been drawings of Mark plus Olivia equals love. I was starting to really hate this job and myself for being so weak and wanting her so much and actually looking forward to a fucking closet and cuddling and, aghhhhhh!

“You okay?” Olivia whispered.

“Yeah, why?” I kicked the ground with my invisible shoe since I had a sock on and looked like an idiot.

“You yelled.” She reached out to me like I was some scared animal in need of love. Wait, would that work in my favor? Could I moan a bit, fall to the ground, tell her about my sprained ankle and soon to be broken heart because I wanted her and she was going to stay in New York, and my dream had always been the opposite side of the country, breathing the ocean air, seeing the sky, I mean how could she not want that?