Page 67 of Loathing My Boss
What a lovely promise.
Lifting my gaze to his face I find him staring out across the water, toward the mountain peaks in the distance. Upon realizing I’m watching him, he glances my way, skims my eyes, my lips, the bare skin of my legs, and gets stuck there.
Flushing, I tug my shirt down as far as it will go over my thighs.
“Sorry.” He closes his eyes, firmly turning his head away. “You’re just…” He sounds hoarse. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Can actors control when their voice sounds likethat? Probably, right? But can they command blush to crawl up their necks?
I don’t know.
I also don’t know why I say, “I was bullied as a kid.” My stomach tightens. “A lot.”
“Because of the bad luck?” he asks, gently, still turned away from me.
I wish it were just because of the unfortunate circumstances that seem to follow me. “Because of…everything. For years, I heard that there was absolutely nothing good about me. I was ugly, and stupid, and a disaster.”
“And your parents?” he asks gently. “They didn’t do anything to combat the words you heard outside your home?”
Broken, a laugh escapes the hollow cavity of my chest. “I’m an orphan, Viktor.” That little detail is the onlymain charactervibe I bring to the function. “I grew up in the system. Foster home to foster home. Ever since I was a baby…” My eyes close. I will myself to shut up, but the words keep coming. “Anyone who knew told me that whatever it is that happens around me probably killed my parents. Kids would make up elaborate stories about how exactly my birth caused their demise in the delivery room. The doctor with the scissors to cut my umbilical cord tripped, stabbing my father, who then fell on my mother, and suffocated her to death… A meteor hit their room while the nurses were cleaning me up… Aliens came, didn’t want me. They got creative with it. I think one boy said my birth opened a portal to the past, and a dinosaur came through to eat everyone, sparing me only because I wasn’t worth the indigestion.” Another broken laugh—this time laced with ire. “The kidslovedthat one. Dinosaursanda big word likeindigestion? Rounds of applause.”
“That’s…terrible.”
“Yup. Kids really can be.” Dragging my legs up against my chest, I hug them and hide beneath the brim of my hat. “I remember wanting a family. I remember the new homes, and the new parents, and thinking maybethistime I’d be good enough for someone to want to keep me. Maybe…I’d be better than all the trouble I came with. But…I never was. I’d overhear meetings with the social workers where my temporary parents, in hushed tones, would say,I’m so sorry. We just…we just can’t handle her.” I bury my nose against my knees. “You know something, Viktor?”
The sensation of his eyes on me burns. “What?”
I tell myself not to say it. I tell myself it’s cruel to give him any hope, if there’s even a slim chance he’s serious. But, then, I tell myself there’s no way he possibly can be, and maybe if he feels bad enough, he’ll forgive me for everything I’ve done and leave mealone. “Two years is the longest anyone has ever put up with me. You and your family have got the record.”
His arm—carefully—wraps around my back and pulls me to his side, hugging me, chin atop my head against the straw of my hat. “Being with you doesn’t feel anything likeputting up with you, Crisis.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’ve put up with green smoothies for months.”
He squeezes me, tight, curled up in a little ball against him. “Yes, I have. I put up with the smoothies, so I could bask in your smile. You are important to me, and no matter what disasters you think you cause, nothing could be worse than being without you.”
“That’s nonsense,” I mutter. “I add very little to your life, Viktor. You don’t need the extra money I’ve helped bring in, and now that I’ve set up the systems, any assistant could do my job. You’d be better off without me. I…I’ve hated you. Foryears.”
“I know,” he says, soft, tender,warmas the sun on my skin. “If I’m honest…I think that’s made me like you more.”
“Maybe we both need to talk to someone about our issues.”
“You know how they say that hatred isn’t the opposite of love?”
That is the crux of the enemies-to-lovers trope, yup. “Sure.”
“I don’t think anyone could possibly love me with the depth and dedication that you have used to hate me. I am obsessed with the idea that you might come to adore me with similar vitality. You are the object of my deepest fantasies, Crisis. I want to love you violently, because I know you can take it.”
Shivering, I rest myself against his heat, watching the people in the water before us chase any hope of fish far, far away. “I don’t trust you.”
“I know. I’m working on that.”
Yeah. He is. I’m not a fan. “What if I’m more terrible than you can even imagine?”
A low sound rumbles in his chest, vibrating against me as he inhales. Guttural, he murmurs, “Could I even hope to be so lucky?”
