Page 65 of Puck Fest
“Got it.” He looks at me like he’s trying to read something in my expression but I keep my face stoic. “You good?”
“Fine. Just busy.”
“Right. Busy.” He sweeps a hand through his hair. “See you Saturday then.”
“Yep. Saturday,” I say with a curt nod.
He walks away, and I’m left standing there hating how much of an asshole I just sounded like.
But that’s what we agreed to. Secret means acting normal. Acting normal means cold and professional.
Even if it feels wrong now.
As I walk back to my office, my blood ices at the sight of Alex Naylor loitering in the hallway outside. He’s talking to a few people, laughing and smiling. Fakest motherfucker I’ve ever met.
He’s still here. Three days after covering the game he was supposed to cover because he wants more of a headline.
He sees me and waves like we’re old friends.
My stomach dips. I duck into my office, close the door, and lean against it.
He’s still digging. I know him. He’s relentless and he’ll stay close to find whatever story he thinks is here.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and see the text from Danny.
That was fun. Acting like strangers.
We’re not strangers. We’re colleagues maintaining professional boundaries.
Is that what we’re calling it?
That’s what it is.
Felt like bullshit to me.
Welcome to having a secret relationship.
The dots appear and disappear a few times and my throat tightens more and more with each passing second.
When can I see you? Actually see you. Not this cold professional dickhead version.
I scrape a hand down the front of my face. The optics aren’t ideal. People might notice if we’re both missing at the same time. And if Alex is still lurking…if he ever saw us…
I shake my head as I answer.
I don’t know. We have to be careful.
You keep saying that.
Because it’s true.
I know. Doesn’t make it easier.
Nothing about this is easy.
Worth it though?
I stare at the question before my fingers type my response.
