I think.
Why am I thinking about kissing?
She thinks I hate her. Maybe I do. Maybe I hate that I like her. So basically, I hate myself.
Focus on the hate, not the lip gloss.
“I want…” she starts.
Please say my cock, please say my cock.
Son of a bitch, has it really been that long? Am I that desperate?
Calm the hell down!
“Your stapler.” She pulls back and crosses her arm. “And you have to promise not to buy another one, no more stapling!”
I snort out a laugh. “Damn, put a pencil behind your ear and add some glasses, and you’d be the teacher of my dreams.”
Her cheeks flare bright red.
Hmmm, does she like that?
She ignores me. “So, do we have a deal?”
Damn it, I really like driving her crazy. I hold out my hand anyway and say, “Deal.”
“I’ll expect it on my desk by five.” She grins like she just won the lottery, and I’m still stuck on the whole turning in my stapler to her desk teacher scenario.
I really need to get myself under control if I’m going to be her partner.
We shake hands, and that’s it. I have a new partner in crime. I exhale a sigh of relief and turn to see that most everyone else is paired up as well.
“Great!” Max claps his hands. “Looks like most of you found someone you can tolerate the competitions with. Now for the information on this year’s Emory Games!”
The lights lower again.
I’m pumped.
I would love to do a ninja course or something like that.
I’m giddy with excitement when the first picture comes up.
Market Research.
Huh?
“Love abounds.” Max spreads his arms wide. “This year, Emory Hotels has purchased a company that produces dating manuals, soaps, lotions, and various products that help the younger generation date more efficiently since so many people are choosing online dating efficiency is everything. Because of the sensitivity of the product, we’ve had HR come up with a few different tests for you to do as a pair. We don’t want to get sued again,” he says with laughs.
I’m so still now, I’m the one not breathing.
“You’ll be living across the hall from each other, we couldn’t swing the whole roommate thing again, but you will be spending the next two weeks together as if you’re…”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Dating.”
“Fuck!” I say, then realize I said it out loud.
When a heel drives into the top of my foot seconds later.
Chapter Three
Ivy
I’m so embarrassed I want to cry.
I hold the tears in the entire meeting, and when we break for the rest of the day and go to our desks, I’m surprised to see the stapler already there with a note on top that says sorry.
Yeah right, he’s just sorry he picked me.
Could this get any worse?
“Too bad.” Jude stops by my desk and leans over it. “I would have loved to fake date you for two weeks.”
He smells so good.
Damn it! Jude? I could have fake-dated Jude instead of the devil? Where is the recount? HUH?! FAKE NEWS! I demand a re-do!
I’m the one that said yes, though.
See! Just another way Jack is RUINING my life.
I slam my hand down on the stapler, a lone staple comes tumbling out like it’s mocking me. I take a deep breath. “That would have been fun.”
“Maybe another time.” He winks. “We can’t fake date, but…” He shrugs. “We could always—”
“Stop trying to manipulate my partner,” Jack snaps as he comes up behind him. “As of right now, we’re in competition, so she’s mine, not yours.”
Jude gives me a smirk, then wraps his knuckles on my desk. “Knock on wood; you never know what will happen during a competition. May the best man win…” He walks off without looking at Jack.
Jack stares me down like the dad waiting up when you break curfew. “Jude? Really?”
“He’s nice.” I shrug.
“Nice?” Clearly, I’m exacerbating the situation as he comes around my desk and crowds my space. “My nana is nice, okay? She volunteers for the church, makes casseroles for the homeless, and still watches Wheel of Fortune. That’s nice. My old turtle who won’t die but just sits there and eats carrots… he’s nice. A walk in a field of lilies… that’s nice—”
“Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine!” He raises his voice, then lowers it again. “Jude isn’t nice, he’s out to win, and he’s out to seduce you before I get the chance!”
My stomach erupts with butterflies that need to hurry up and die so I can survive this partnership. “You aren’t seducing me; that wasn’t part of the rules.”
“No, but if it is, then I get to do it as your partner, no your date, you’re officially my office date. Deal with it.” He seems way angrier than he should be, considering the relationship isn’t actually real, but I let it go because, duh, I have his stapler, and it’s too weird to even process at this point.