He stops and crosses his arms, staring all of us down. The entire office is completely silent. I’m afraid to swallow because it might make a noise.
Am I breathing too loud?
Oh no! He glances my way, then quickly averts his eyes.
I breathe a silent sigh of relief.
“The second annual Emory Games are about to begin,” he announces in a boisterous voice. “This year, however, will be a little different.”
What the hell are the Emory Games?
But also, does this include Hadesgate?
“I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell the Emory Games are…” He grins. “Follow me.” He suddenly stops; I nearly run into his back before he turns around and adds, “Don’t walk loud; it irritates the gecko.”
And that, folks, was my first intro into what would soon be—the weirdest few weeks of my life.
Chapter Two
Jack
I don’t hate her.
I think she thinks I hate her.
It’s more of a: I have a really hard time tolerating her holier-than-thou attitude, and that’s constant.
Would it kill her to have one hair out of place? Roll around in some dirt? I swear I sometimes look back on the one moment we had, and she actually sneered at me when she got too close like I was this complete waste of time.
I grabbed the first girl I could find and swore I’d never let her get under my skin again, no matter how pretty she was or how much she wanted to strangle me.
It was really all we had between us.
An immense amount of tension that sometimes felt sexual if I were being completely honest.
Damn, I wonder if she’d freak out if I just threw her against that conference table and tugged those thick nylons down with my teeth, forcing her to walk around with holes in them the rest of the day.
Yeah, weird fantasy, and yet I’m still getting hard as I try to walk quietly behind the rest of the interns. What the hell does he mean “loud walking upsets the gecko”?
Are lizards that sensitive to noise?
And isn’t his office above us, not below?
Jude elbows me. I don’t know him well, but he has inky black hair and really blue eyes, which pretty much means every girl in the office flirts with him, including the cougars. “Who do you think he’s going to pair you with?”
“Pair me?” I frown. “What do you mean?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, bro, The Emory Games. The. Emory. Games!”
Why does he say it twice? And why the hell is he raising his hands like he’s auditioning for The Godfather?
He shakes his head like I’m the dumb one. “Why else would you apply for this internship? It went viral last year, the shit he put his interns through just to win a bonus plus a guaranteed job in management. It’s literally the only reason people apply for this job now. We probably had to beat out at least two thousand other applicants.”
I’m in shock.
I had no idea.
I just thought it sounded like a good way to get out of law school and get my dad off my back about taking my LSATs.
I‘m still confused when we all find seats in a theater-like room with cushy leather chairs and a giant screen up front.
“Lights, please.” Max claps his hands and moves to the side.
The smell of popcorn fills the air.
But, seriously, what the hell?
Suddenly, honest to God, I’m getting handed popcorn and a soda while the screen flickers then lights up with “A Max Emory Production” during work hours, so, whatever… I’ll eat. I’ll drink. I’ll play.
Music plays.
And then hell ensues as I watch teams of two go through challenge courses and weird gameshow shit.
The music slowly shifts to something more romantic as the camera pans in on an apartment with two of the interns. They’re arguing, trapped in a closet, sweaty, then building a bed, and then sleeping in it, and oh shit.
That would make a Hollywood scene look bad.
Is this fucking legal?
The scene fades to black.
The pair is outside competing again. They lose, but they somehow win. I can’t tell what happens except everyone’s cheering for them even though they were in last place.
Words scroll across the screen; my eyes widen as I read.
“Each winning contestant was given a ten thousand dollar signing bonus along with a job at Emory Enterprises starting at eighty thousand a year, a company car, and a company penthouse apartment.”
Sign me the fuck up!
I nearly jump to my feet, throw my hands into the air, and yell, “I volunteer as tribute!”
I still live with my parents.
But for real, I‘ll kiss that damn gecko if that’s what it takes, and lizards scare the shit out of me. It’s their eyes like they know things.
All the things.
Adrenaline courses through me as I look around the room. I have at least twenty pounds of muscle on most guys here, the girls look anything but athletic, plus I played collegiate level sports.