The Rivals

“How did you eventually end it?”

“The semester ended, and I didn’t sign up for Psych Two on purpose. As long as I didn’t see him, I was fine.”

I sighed. “Well, that’s not going to work in my situation. We’re both stuck here for the next month or so, at least.”

“Well, fighting is what gets you hot and bothered about this guy, right?”

I felt disappointed in myself, but that was the truth. “Yeah. It’s like I want to take my anger out on him physically.”

“Okay, then. Just stop fighting with him.”

I started to say that wouldn’t work, but… Huh. It was a simple suggestion. Could it be that easy?

“I’m not sure the two of us can get along. We’ve never done anything but argue.”

“Welp. Sounds like it’s either make nice or you’ll have another accident.”

I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. You’re going to get some shuteye for the next few hours, and I’m going to make the new temp cry by the end of the day.”

I laughed. “That sounds about right.”

“Off to sleep you go. Call me the next time you fall off the wagon and shag this Weston guy again.”

“Hopefully, that won’t be happening. I’ll see you end of next week.”

“Bye, love!”

Swiping my phone off, I plugged it into the charger on the nightstand before pulling up the covers.

Scarlett was right. It was simple, really. All I needed to do was be nice to Weston. That couldn’t be too hard.

Or could it?

Chapter 7

* * *

Sophia

“Good morning, Weston.” I flashed my most dazzling smile.

Apparently dazzle wasn’t something Weston was used to seeing on me. His brows pulled down, and he studied me with suspicion. “Good morning?”

He was seated behind the desk in what had been Ms. Copeland’s office. I’m sure he expected a fight over who got to use the big, corner office with the view of the park. But instead, I walked directly over to the round meeting table and kept my smile firmly in place.

“So, I’d like to fill you in on the other issues the general manager told me about yesterday. Maybe we could split up the list I’ve made and each be the point person for different things?”

“Uhh… Yeah, that makes sense.”

Weston was definitely waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though I didn’t have one. I’d given a lot of thought to the conversation Scarlett and I had early this morning and determined maybe she was on to something. Until the last few days, I’d considered myself pretty vanilla, but apparently some deep, dark part of me got off on arguing with this man. If Weston and I got along, I might have a better chance of not ending up with my panties around my ankles.

Weston got up from the desk and walked over to where I sat. This morning, I’d typed up a long list of the issues Louis and I had discussed. I slid three stapled pages over to the opposite side of the table and looked up at Weston.

“This is a list of things we should discuss. I prioritized them, but we should go over them all. I’m going to run downstairs and get some more coffee. Maybe you could read through what I’ve typed, and we can discuss it when I get back?” I stood from my chair.

The look on Weston’s face was pretty comical. He was waiting for me to be difficult. Not going to happen today, buddy. I headed toward the door and then stopped and turned back. “Would you like me to pick you up some coffee? Maybe some fruit or a muffin, too?”

“Uhhh… Yeah, that would be great. I’ll take a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin.”

“No problem.” This time I even managed to show my teeth with my over-the-top smile. Being sweet was almost like a new form of torture for Weston. Who knew? Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As I turned to walk out, he stopped me.

“Wait. You’re not going to poison my coffee or something, are you?”

I laughed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

My fake-cheery demeanor had seemed to sink in. On my way down to the coffee shop, I caught myself whistling. Not only did I enjoy making Weston feel off kilter, my neck really appreciated the lack of tension. I’d had a giant knot in it since I boarded the plane a few days ago.

When I returned to the office, Weston was still at the round meeting table. He’d written some notes on the list I’d given him and now had a yellow legal pad with even more scribbled notes, and he was scrolling through his phone. I handed him his coffee and the bag with his blueberry muffin, along with a chipper smile.

“I had them warm the muffin for you. Hope that’s okay. There are some butter pats in the bag, if you want them.”