Office Date Page 5

  Max looks between us. “Are you both up to the third challenge?”

  “Never better,” I choke, giving him a thumbs up.

  He sniffs the air, then looks between us. “Hmmm, interesting.”

  What the hell was that?

  Ivy and I share a look.

  Her eyes are wide.

  Mine mirror hers.

  Max turns back to look at us. “It’s a good partnership, yes, I think it’s a good one, might be a bit chaotic, but those are always the best ones.”

  “Is he talking about us?” I mouth to Ivy.

  She pinches my side.

  I jerk in response.

  Max chuckles his back to us as the elevator doors open again. “Come along little ducklings, or as I like to say, ’lings.’”

  “I’m so confused,” I say under my breath.

  Ivy loops her arm in mine like she needs an anchor as Max’s boat just sails off to sea. “Same.”

  I’m not even mad about it as I hold her close and walk behind him to meet the rest of the teams in the lobby.

  Anderson looks ready to punch me in the face when he sees my arm linked with Ivy’s, and Jude smirks like he knows our secret, like he knows we kissed.

  What is this, middle school?

  “Attention.” Dustin clears his throat and adjusts his bowtie about a dozen times before clapping his hands. “Today’s challenge will be a mash-up of the first and second challenges.”

  “Does that mean death?” I whisper under my breath, earning another elbow from Ivy.

  But seriously, does that mean death?

  “Today is a wonderful day!” Max announces. It’s now that I realize he’s wearing this loud blue pinstriped suit along with shiny shoes and a hat like he’s ready to go to the Kentucky Derby.

  Oh no, are we about to be horses?

  And again, will we die?

  “You will race,” Max announces. “And first to finish gets ten extra points; as of right now, Ivy and Jack are in first, with Ruby and Jude in second; those are the ones to beat. Are you ready to hear the next challenge?”

  “Yes!” Anderson yells.

  “Love the enthusiasm!” Max points. “Dustin, give him an extra point for the yell.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dustin dabbles on his iPad.

  How is this even fair?

  “Anyway…” Max chuckles. “As you know, we have products for the hotels you’ve already had to try out. You’ll be using those products while also playing Honey, If You Love Me. A classic, classic nineties game. I think church youth groups were scandalous enough to even use them, right Dustin?”

  Dustin rolls his eyes.

  Max grins. “He was the captain of the Bible Squad.”

  “It was Quiz Team,” Dustin mumbles. “And I still beat you.”

  “Hah!” Max laughs. “Anyway…” He clears his throat. “The goal of the game is to get the person whose lap you’re sitting on to smile. And mind you, we’re all about a zero sexual harassment policy, so you don’t need to sit on the other person’s lap; not a requirement; we will have sensitivity gamers for each team to make sure you’re comfortable. We don’t want any lawsuits, so please use your imaginations; how could you possibly make the person, your enemy, your partner—smile.”

  I actually smile hearing this.

  It wouldn’t take much for me to crack with her.

  But anyone else?

  I’m Stone Cold Steve Austin.

  I’ve got this.

  “We’ve got this,” I whisper to Ivy.

  She pales. “I’m horrible at this game.”

  “What?” I pull away. “How?”

  “I crack under pressure!”

  “Well, that’s not helpful!” I hiss. “You have to keep it together, think about something really sad, like dead puppies, death, a kitten who just got abandoned by its mom!”

  She shoots me a glare. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Sorry.” I look away. “I was just trying to make you sad.”

  “Yeah, thanks! What I always wanted! To cry!”

  “The puppy and kitten aren’t real; that helps, right?”

  She takes a deep breath. “We have to watch out for Jude’s eyes. They’re too blue.”

  “Look away.” I nod. “And if you start to smile or react, just think about how tiny his dick is.”

  She jerks her head in my direction. “When have you ever seen his dick?”

  I gazed at him in speculation. “We used to work out together to get rid of the rage from the internship stress. His dick is so small I wonder if he cries himself to sleep at night.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “If bro got a boner, you’d think that his fly was just undone, trust me on this.”

  She angles a glance at Jude.

  I elbow her. “Stop it; that’s weird.”

  “And you staring at his tiny dick isn’t?”

  “I was confused!” I hiss. “I was like, where is it, where’s his dick.”

  “Why the hell were you searching, Jack?”

  “Don’t make this weird!”

  “Too late!”

  “…and those are the rules!” Max claps his hands. “Now, you and your partner have ten minutes to plot— Oh, and one final addition. The winning two teams get to have happy hour as a bonus! And if you’re sober, you get a very fancy strawberry lemonade. YUM!”

  Ivy suddenly grabs me by my shirt. “We have to win!”

  “Because of the lemonade?” I laugh.

  “The vodka. Because of the vodka, Jack.”

  I nod. “That’s fair; let’s kill these bitches.”

  “Word.” She laughs, raises her hand, and I slap it

  Suddenly I feel lighter than I did this morning and more resolute.

  We have to win.

  I have to get the girl whose lips I still taste—her drink.

  And I want to be the man sitting across from her watching her drink it.

  Chapter Eight

  Ivy

  It’s ride or die at this point.

  I know Jack can do this; just by walking around the small circle, he has every girl on the other teams swooning toward him; they’d probably just hold off so he’d sit on their laps.

  Perverts. All of them.

  I glare while Jack makes his rounds.

  And as I watch him, I think about last night, about our steamy kiss. His eyes fall to mine; no, they simply stare straight through me; a small smirk spreads across his face.

  I need to look away.

  I can’t.

  His walk is smooth as he moves around the small circle of teams, and then he suddenly jumps right on Jude’s lap like a toddler, wraps his arms around him, and leans in like he’s going to kiss him. “Honey, honey, oh baby girl…” He starts smooshing Jude’s cheeks together, earning chuckles from everyone. “If you love me, if you truly”—he touches his forehead against Jude’s, winks—“Truly, love me…” And honest to God, Jack starts to shed a tear. “Love me.” People start dying from laughter. “Will you please, please, please, for the love of God…” He jumps off Jude’s lap and falls to his knees in front of him. “…smile?”

  Jude’s lips are quivering.

  I’m praying.

  I need this happy hour.

  And Jack cinches the deal when he does a little spider crawl with his fingertips up Jude’s thighs. “Pretty please, boo?”

  Jude bursts out laughing, then shoves Jack away. “That’s cheating.”

  “Not cheating that you want me, boo.” Jack winks again and then gives me a thumbs up and joins the seat next to me.

  I’m still as Jude takes his turn. He prowls around the circle, tries a few girls and guys, then finally looks over at me, then Jack.

  Oh shit.

  So far nobody has taken the bait.

  I don’t think I will, but I’m worried now.

  He stops in front of me and very slowly goes down to one knee; I immediately start to panic, seeing flashbacks of the proposal
that happened but was wrecked last year before taking this internship by my stupid ex-boyfriend, who isn’t even worth talking about.

  I feel myself shake for entirely different reasons as Jude grabs my hand, the same way that my ex did when he professed all his love and gave me a promise ring out of guilt for cheating on me, which he also drunkenly confessed that same day.

  Asshole.

  I really liked him. Did I love him yet? No, but it doesn’t help that the girl he cheated with is someone I’d once considered a friend or that the same girl used to always say how lucky I was to have him.

  All guys should burn.

  I jerk my hand away from Jude and give Jack a panicked look like I need him to step in or save me; I don’t really know what to do at this point, we’ve already won one round, and I don’t feel like smiling.

  Jude eventually gives up and walks to some other random girl that I can’t see through the tears of frustration in my eyes. When everyone has a chance to go, Max steps back in with Dustin behind him and gives a new challenge.

  “All right, you’ve all done very well, but now we up the stakes. Everyone will be blindfolded. I know it feels like it defeats the purpose, but you have to not only keep a straight face but try to guess based on the two clues Dustin reads off—who the person in front of you is. Ivy, you’ll go first.”

  This seems semi-hard. Most of the interns work together, but not all of us are close, and right now, I’m a little bit of a hot mess. I get handed a blindfold and put it on while everyone else is handed theirs.

  “All right, Dustin will lead you to the person you need to convince to smile; remember, you have to both make them smile and guess accurately to get a point for your team.”

  “Okay.” I stand, and a hand gently touches my lower back and leads me to the side. “Is everyone still sitting in the same place, or did everyone get shuffled.”

  “Everyone,” Max says, with humor lacing his voice, “has been shuffled around, and they no longer have their blindfolds on; you may begin when you’re ready!”

  Crap, I’m led toward someone.

  “Am I allowed to touch them?”

  “Only good touch,” Max says out loud. “And ask permission; we don’t want to get sued, ha, ha.”

  “Again,” Dustin mutters behind me.

  “It was the goat’s fault, and I’m not changing my story!” Max insists.

  It’s the distraction I needed because what the heck did the goat do—you know what, never mind, I can’t even process the insanity that is our CEO right now. What’s his thing with farm animals anyway?

  “Okay,” Dustin says behind me. “You have two minutes to make them smile.”

  “Them?”

  “We let people decide their own labels here, Ivy. Company policy.” Max says in a stern tone that almost makes me roll my eyes. I mean, I’m all for it. I just wish I knew if the person in front of me was Jude so I don’t experience more flashbacks of the cheating drama with the ex.

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, what are the hints first?”

  “Loves coffee. Teases. Oh yes, and he—thank you, good sir—has given permission to let you know that his favorite candy is vanilla Tootsie Rolls—bro, same! Got the five-pounder last night from Amazon, primed that shit so hard, so hard, like you don’t even know—”

  Dustin clears his throat.

  And Max just has to add. “…but like, the cherry’s good too. What? I want to be inclusive!”

  “Two minutes start now,” Dustin says, and I’m standing in front of this guy, wondering who the hell—wait a second…

  I think back.

  Jack used to only buy that random children’s craft candy and give it out like it was the cool kind at Halloween. And in high school he’d constantly pop the Tootsie Rolls in his mouth when he was testing.

  But lots of people like Tootsie Rolls, right?

  I lean in, not realizing how close I am until I can literally feel him breathing, then put my hands on his shoulders.

  I know those shoulders.

  I know the weighted breaths he’s taking.

  I know his smell.

  I smile and then turn my head to the side of his. This is Jack, not like my Jack; wait, when did Stapler Boy become My Jack? No, like my partner, yes, that’s it. Partner. I know it. I know it’s him.

  I get right up close to his cheek, then whisper in his ear. “Bet I could get you to smile if I kissed you.”

  I cup his face with my hands, then whisper again. “I’ll take you on a Tootsie Roll date and even let you bring the stapler—wait, would that be a triple date?”

  Time’s running out, and he isn’t budging.

  So, I do what any desperate girl does in a weird situation.

  I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, then pull back and say, “Bet I know what would really make you smile.” And trail my hand down his chest and say again. “Remember the time Marselle shit her pants after eating all those beans on the class trip and lied to one of the football players that it was chocolate, and he tried to eat it?”

  Laughter follows.

  Including his.

  “Come on, that was seventh grade!” he yells, then tugs down my blindfold and licks his lips. “Bet it was tasty.”

  Wait, is he talking about shit or me?

  His eyes go to my mouth, then back up again, and then he reaches for me. I’m literally in this weird trance with his gorgeous eyes and don’t even remember that people are around us.

  “We’re totally getting sued,” Dustin grumbles under his breath.

  “Nah, she’s right.” Jack smiles. “I liked it. Well played.”

  We high five, and I leave the game.

  The rest of the hour only one more team gets taken down, and it’s Jude’s. He couldn’t get the dude to so much as budge; I mean, he got even more desperate than me, going as far as to ask if he could tickle the guy’s feet.

  Or suck his toe.

  I mean to each his own, right?

  At the end of the competition, we reign victorious. Anderson and his partner came in second. I can almost taste the margaritas on my tongue when Dustin approaches, still in his stark black-rimmed glasses, what looks like ironed jeans, and a blue button-up that’s tucked severely tight into said jeans. “Follow me.”

  “He’s totally going to have a nervous breakdown,” Jack whispers under his breath.

  I snort out a laugh. “His boss is Max; what do you expect?”

  “Never work for family.”

  “Never,” I agree.

  Dustin sighs. “I can hear you.”

  “Sorry.” Jack coughs out a laugh. “Thought we were being quiet.”

  “I lack in many ways.” He looks over his shoulder. “But my ears are a gift from God.”

  “Ummmm.” I give him a thumbs up. “Good for you.”

  He rolls his eyes and opens the door to the outside parking lot, where a black van is waiting. “Get in.”

  “Wait, are we being kidnapped?” Jack asks, holding up his hand, then grabbing my wrist like he needs to protect me.

  Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

  I need to forget about our kiss and about his amazing smell and— Wait! Kidnap? He did say kidnap, right?

  Dustin looks heavenward. “You aren’t getting kidnapped. This is your ride to your happy hour for the top two teams with the most points. Drink responsibly. Wear a condom. World peace.” He aggressively opens the van door. “Well? You getting in or not?”

  “Question,” Jack asks as we get in the van. “What does world peace have to do with condoms and drinking responsibly?”

  Dustin’s eyes are haunted as he whispers, “Everything.” Then he shuts the door in our faces.

  I gulp. “Yeah, something’s not right with him.”

  The driver’s door opens, revealing Dustin yet again. “Heard that.”

  “Sorry.” I shoot him a too-sunny smile.

  He puts on a pair of aviators and looks at us through the rearview mirror; actually, he glares, it
wasn’t much of a look, and then he starts the engine.

  “Do you feel unsafe? Because I feel unsafe,” I mutter under my breath, earning another glare from Dustin before he puts the car in drive.

  Jack reaches across and grabs my hand and holds it.

  He just holds it.

  My enemy and partner in crime right now is holding my hand, and his hand isn’t clammy. It doesn’t feel weird. It feels right. Which is terrifying because why would it feel so good? Why would everything feel so good with someone who I can’t even stand to look at while working?

  I try to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let me. After I fight for a few seconds in vain, he grips it harder and then puts it on his thigh, then leans back and closes his eyes.

  I don’t know why, but I like this side of him.

  I like it when he’s playful and forceful like he knows me better than I know myself, and I like that he’s brave enough to put my hand close enough to his dick, knowing full well I’d punch it if he tried anything.

  And they say romance is dead.

  I smile, then close my eyes too, relaxing my hand on his thigh and wondering where it all went wrong before it went right.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack

  After holding her hand, I suddenly feel like I’m back in middle school, going to skate night, and wishing I could ask a girl to skate with me for boys’ choice. Like, what the hell is wrong with me?

  I feel like I just went through a horrible case of puberty and no longer know what to do with my hands when I’m sitting. Do I cross my arms? Do I rest them on the desk? Do I grab my phone?

  I’m uncomfortable, and she’s beautiful.

  That’s really the only assessment I have.

  I’m so pumped we won, but now I’m like, “is this a date?” Because it feels like a date. We’re downtown at a sick bar that probably charges fifty bucks a napkin, and all I can think about is how pretty she looks sipping her Manhattan.

  And what’s even worse?

  She didn’t order a diet soda and vodka, though there’s nothing wrong with that. No, she straight-up ordered a Manhattan with Pendleton.

  Is it weird that I got hard just hearing her order?