I leave his jaw on the floor, and march to the swanky elevator.
I’ve always wanted to work from home—it’s not as pretty as this place, but it’s mine. It’s going to take a lot of work, but that’s something I’ve never been afraid of.
My heart slams in my chest as I’m staring at the descending numbers, a countdown to an explosion invisible to all but me.
I start to laugh, alone in the elevator, muttering to myself, “I can’t believe I just did that!” Laughing more, I repeat it, only louder this time.
On the second floor, a woman walks on. She side-eyeballs grinning me. “Hot date?”
The doors close.
“What?” I look at her, teeth lighting up the place. “Oh, no, this has nothing to do with a man. I just did something wild!”
She can’t help but ask, “What?”
Since we had only one floor left to go, the doors swoosh open as I lock eyes with her. “I stood up for something I believe in.”
She blinks, and lets me walk out ahead of her.
Strolling into a sunlit lobby, I yell an echoing, “Woooohoooo!!!”
Every person present turns to watch me go.
That’s right.
Watch.
Me.
Go.
CHAPTER 11
BILLY
With sunlight warming the back of my neck, I slide my gaze up the skyscraper that houses our city’s newspaper. To say I’m second guessing my decision to show up unannounced and uninvited at Haven’s job, to see if she’d like to join me for a casual cup of coffee, is an understatement.
I am nervous as hell.
Sweaty.
Heart’s beating too fast.
Wyatt talked me into this.
It’s his fault.
Dick.
With all the courage the Cockers have got coming out of their pores, it’s no wonder their nickname is Cocky.
What if I just pretended I was one of them?
Acted like insecurities are to be ignored until you no longer hear them, to the point where it becomes a habit to trust my gut and take bold steps…
What if the second bold step I took was into this building.
The first was stepping out of my Land Rover.
Not a bad car.
I’m an okay-looking guy.
I can make a girl laugh.
Throw one hell of a party.
I’m honest, work hard, show up when I say I’m going to.
Past girlfriends have claimed I know my way around a bed.
I’ve got things to offer.
Okay, you can do this!
Inhaling oxygen-courage, I walk up to the rotating doors and stroll inside. Security at the front desk gives me a nod like I’m meant to be here.
Maybe I look like someone else?
Maybe it’s a sign?
Whatever the reason, I’ll take it.
At the elevator I realize that I’ve got no clue what floors the offices of the paper take up. I’m not going to walk back to the directory. Security might ask why I’m here.
I’ll just push all the buttons.
There. That’s better.
A suit walks on and looks at the lit up numbers, glances to me, and sighs, taking his place along the back wall so we can do what people do in elevators.
I follow his lead and chuckle, “Whoever said we had to do this? Face forward? Is it so we’re pointed in the right direction when we hit our floor? Really, is it that much of a time saver?” He looks at me, and I finish hypothesizing with an amused, “What if I turned around? Would people call me wild and unpredictable?”
As we stop at the second floor, he dryly returns, “Next time, less coffee.”
I laugh, “Oh, I get it! You think I’m wired. It’s not the coffee. I’m going to ask a girl out, but she doesn’t know I’m coming.”
His eyebrows go up as we hit the third floor and the doors open again. “For that people would call you wild and unpredictable.”
“You think so?” We stare at each other a beat, and that’s enough of an answer. Pride spreads in my chest—the boost I needed.
On floor four he walks off with a jaded, “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
On the eleventh, a large AJC logo warrants a deep breath.
I’m not going to use her last name. There’s probably only one ‘Haven’ here. It also appears like I’m her friend if I don’t use her last name.
Am I her friend?
Not yet.
But I plan to be.
Nobody has ever inspired me to kiss them without warning before.
I ask the receptionist who’s seated behind a sleek, modern cage that some would call a desk. “Excuse me, is Haven in?”
Typing away he announces, “She just left.”
I frown, “She go out to lunch?”
“For good.”
My head swings back. “For good?”
“Yes, for good. She packed up her things and walked out. Everyone’s talking about it.”
I can tell this guy loves drama and gossip, so he won’t care if I ask, “What are they saying?”
He stops typing, looks around for any superiors who might bark at him and, satisfied we’re alone, locks eyes with me to whisper, “She was writing this article about some Halloween party and it went viral, totally tore the guy to pieces. Did a video and everything, though I haven’t seen it. Anyway, the lead editor of our Life section was really angry at her for slaughtering this guy who’s apparently friends with the Cockers—and you know how powerful they are—so he told Haven to pack up and get the fuck out.”
I blink, taking in what he said. My heart just dropped to my knees. Everything feels tight. I don’t recognize my voice as I think of all the implications of an article like that going viral, asking him, “She tore me apart?”
The receptionist stares for a beat and blurts, “You’re Billy Cooper?!”
He knows my name.
This isn’t some kind of mistake.
The story he’s referring to really was about me.
Disappointed footsteps back me away from him.
“I’m sorry!” he cries out.
But he’s not really sorry. I can see it in his eyes. He’s now got a new thing to talk about, the second I leave.
He loves the drama.
Not me.
Life is hard enough.
I’ve got a business to run.
I want an easy going, fun
