“Babe, I can smell the sexual chemistry, and because it’s so palpable, so thick, so . . . musky—”
“Eww, it’s not musky.”
What am I saying? It’s not anything. There’s no chemistry. Nothing is palpable, and there’s absolutely no thickness . . . none.
Nor is anything musky. Who even describes attraction as musky?
But he ignores me and continues his far-fetched diatribe. “We can’t possibly be work friends because the attraction between us will always and forever put the thought of sex on the table.”
This time I hold back my snort and let silence fill the air for a few breaths before I close the space between us until our faces are only a few inches apart. Despite him being almost a foot taller than I am, I can still look him in the eyes as I ask, “Are you feverish? Is that what’s happening? You’ve come down with something and this is how you act?”
“I’m a specimen of health. You should know that. You check me out enough.”
“I do not.”
I don’t.
Just need to make that clear. I really don’t.
He guffaws, a sound so annoying that my molars grind together. “Why do you think my sleeves are rolled up right now?”
I glance down at his inked forearms—okay, sure, those are sexy, probably the best thing about the man. That’s it, though, the forearms. Can’t blame a girl for delighting in some arm porn, right, ladies?
He leans in close. “Because I know how much they turn you on.”
I press my hand against his face, stopping whatever he’s attempting to do. “Do you understand how massively inappropriate this is? I’m your employee.”
“Technically, you’re Huxley’s employee, I’m just the overseer of things.”
“Is that the professional term?”
He flashes that irritating grin of his. “It is.” He wets his lips but I keep my eyes trained on his eyes. There’s no way I’ll give him the satisfaction of glancing at his mouth. “Not sure why you’re getting all flustered and red in the face.”
“I’m not flustered.” I straighten my arms at my sides.
“I’m trying to be an honest do-gooder right now, attempting to educate you on why we can’t be friends. I should be praised, not disparaged with your sneer.” Before I can respond, he keeps moving forward with his so-called do-gooder’s education. “A man and a woman who find each other attractive and who work together will never be able to be friends. There will always be a giant elephant in the room, and that elephant’s name is Sex. It’s basic human math, Kelsey. We all need to climax, and when we find someone who’s attractive, we want that person to help us climax.”
Is anyone else hearing this?
God, he could not cheapen the act of making love any more. Is it an ego boost JP thinks I’m attractive? Yep. But where’s the romance these days?
Where’s the wooing?
Where’s the spontaneity?
Even Lottie and Huxley will admit there was nothing romantic about how their relationship started. It all seems so clinical these days.
As a true romantic who loves everything about love, I can’t help wondering if there’s a man out there who checks all the boxes of the perfect romcom hero.
Noooo, now we have to deal with catfishing, followed by an unsolicited dick pic, and then finalized by a solid ghosting.
I’m so sick of it.
Hands on my hips, I turn toward him and ask, “What the hell happened to make you like this? I asked you what you thought about bamboo filing cabinets and it turned into this argument about why we can’t be friends. I don’t see how this conversation is relevant to my question.”
“It’s relevant,” he says, sliding in closer, his shoe now pressing against my heel, “because when your hungry eyes are devouring me from across the conference table but your attitude is attempting to put me in the friend zone, I’m going to call you out on it. You said you want to be friends, but that’s not going to happen.”
A delusion, that’s what he’s experiencing. And someone needs to put him in his place.
I press my finger to his chest and say, “Trust me, JP, if I found you the least bit attractive, you’d know it. What you’re believing are hungry eyes for you, is a ravenous woman who had one waffle slathered in peanut butter at six this morning. Hunger hallucination has set in, and your meager body—”
“Meager? Pfft.”
“—has morphed into a giant meatball sub in my mind, nothing more. Convince yourself all you want about what you assume is my attraction toward you, but from my mouth to your headstrong ears, I couldn’t find you any more revolting.”