Page 91 of How To Tackle A Crush

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Perfect.

I am halfway through sitting down when I hear my name.

“Ava.”

I look up.

Martin is standing there with the polite but immovable smile of a man whose entire job is managing people who think they have options.

“Hi,” I say cautiously.

“Jack asked if you could sit nearer the front today.”

I blink.

“I’m quite comfortable here.”

“I’m sure you are,” he says pleasantly. “Nevertheless.”

He gestures towards the front row.

I consider arguing. Briefly. Then remember he controls access badges and probably the Wi-Fi.

I stand.

“Of course,” I say, in the voice of a woman who is absolutely not plotting revenge.

He guides me to an empty seat in the front row like I am a slightly reluctant VIP.

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” I say politely.

What I think is:Oh, you are absolutely going to regret this, Mr Westland.

Not in any meaningful way.

But I am a very creative proofreader and I have weapons.

Martin leaves. I open my notebook and pretend to be extremely busy while internally making plans that mostly involve mild embarrassment and plausible deniability.

Nothing dramatic.

Just… consequences.

Jack walks in.

He sits, adjusts his microphone, thanks someone to his left.

Then he looks at me.

And winks.

A small, quick thing. Gone immediately.

Heat floods my face so fast I am certain it is visible from space.

I glance around quickly.

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