Page 66 of Game Change

I hear footsteps above, and I assume she’s going to the bathroom, but then I hear the creakiness of the stairs. The noisy stairs are one of the things I dislike about this place.

Maybe she’s thirsty. She can’t possibly be hungry after all the food she ate. She lets out a little gasp, and then I hear fast footsteps again. I sigh and get out of bed.

She’s standing over the couch. She brought pillows from upstairs, along with a comforter. The tree branches scrape against the window, and she jumps in surprise. Of all things, I never expected her to fear the dark or bad weather.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and she shrieks as if I’m a stranger and this is not my home. She puts a hand to her chest and takes a step back. “Is something wrong with your room upstairs?”

“It’s fine,” is all she says. “Aren’t you cold?” She gestures at my bare chest. I’m only in a pair of boxers. “There’s a blizzard outside, and you’re practically naked.”

“Yes, because it’s warm in here,” I respond. “And I typically sleep naked, so you’re welcome.” She purses her lips but doesn’t reply.

The wind howls, and the branches scrape the window again. She turns and looks at it, then looks at the makeshift bed she made on the couch. “You can sleep in my room if you’re scared.” I hope she doesn’t hear the amusement in my voice.

“Um, you know it’s a bad idea for us to share a bed. And I’m not scared.” She climbs underneath the down comforter. “Maybe you can turn on the light in your room and leave the door open so some of the light can spill out here.”

“Or you can leave the light on out here,” I suggest.

“I don’t like it too bright at night.”

“Neither do I,” I counter. She glares at me with her lips pursed shut. “This is ridiculous. You can sleep with me. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” The light from the TV coming from my bedroom flickers. “I have a fireplace and a television in my room. That should give you what you want.”

The wind blows, and I hear the sound of a car alarm from outside. She jumps off the couch and snatches the pillows she brought from upstairs.

“Okay,” she says. “Since you insist.” She runs past me and goes into my room. When I get there, she’s putting the pillows in the middle of the bed to make a wall. I roll my eyes and go to climb onto my side. “Wait!” she says. She runs out of the room, and I hear the steps creaking while she goes upstairs. She’s not up there for long. She returns less than a minute later with four more pillows. She puts them in the middle of the bed before she climbs in.

“That’s my side,” I say.

“Well, I’m already here. Can’t you sleep on that side for one night?” She sounds agitated.

“No. I want to sleep on my side.”

She sighs, mutters something under her breath, and climbs out of the bed. She gestures to my side and huffs as if I’m the one inconveniencing her. I go around and climb in, and she does the same. The flimsy pillows between us do nothing to stop my dick from rising. It’s been in a constant state of arousal since I saw her in the office. I’ll never tell her, but she’s extra beautiful when she’s afraid and pretending she’s not.

“What’s your book about?” I ask moments later.

“Huh?”

“The book you ran upstairs to read.”

“Oh. It’s good. It’s a mystery.”

“Right,” is all I say at the blatant lie. “What’s the title?”

“Um, Mysterious Happenings.” I roll my eyes. That’s about the dumbest title I’ve ever heard.

“Sounds more like a horror than a thriller.”

“It has some of those elements, too,” she lies.

“Why are these pillows between us? It’s like closing the gate after the horse has gotten out, don’t you think, Brynne?” I ask instead of calling her out on the lie about her book. “This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid, and so is your management style. And I don’t want the horse to get back in,” she says. “That’s the entire damn point. It was a mistake before.”

“A mistake?” I ask, shoving down the twinge of hurt. “I seem to remember you enjoying it, and you spent all your time with me. It couldn’t have been that much of a mistake.”

“I’m not the type of woman who hooks up or has casual sex. And if I were going to do that, I would not be doing it with my boss,” she says. “Even though you’re grossly unqualified for the job.” She whispers the last part, but I hear it.

“I must not be that unqualified since I have the job, and you don’t,” I say loudly.

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