Page 28 of Yule Know It When You See It
Life is currently being squeezed out of my R2-D2 stress ball.Squeeze. And why did Theo pretend as if we weren’t about to kiss?Squeeze—double squeeze. Well, youfeiging, you didn’t exactly bring it up either, did you? And youknowthe reason for it happened years ago and you’re still not over it.
Squeeeeeeze. And I don’t stop squeezing until my hand shakes, elbow vibrating against my desk, and Mary passes with a nervous smile, trying to disguise her quickening pace.
“Someone’s certainly tense.” Rupert breezes from nowhere to the side of my desk and adjusts his purple bow tie.
With a disgruntled sigh, I rest the ball in its corner and rub my eye sockets furiously with the heels of my hands. “It’s this damn article. I’ve never had writer’s block like this. Ever.”
“Want to know what I do when I need the creativity boost?” Rupert picks lint from his pants, flicking it over his shoulder.
I grab a pen and start clicking it. “I don’t know. Is it—workplace appropriate?”
“Axel,” Rupert yelps, gasping and holding back a smile. “I mean, yes, that could do wonders for just about anyone, but I personally take a walk. Specifically along Lake Shore Drive. You’d be surprised what the views in this city can do for the soul.”
Rupert isn’t wrong. The massive Lake Michigan extends past the horizon like an ocean, the Chicago River carving straight through the buildings, Navy Pier, and its giant Ferris wheel. And not to mention the architecture of the buildings and museums.
“You’re right. That sounds nice, but—”
“Of course, I’m right,” Rupert interrupts, tapping one stem on his glasses.
I let a chuckle push past my lips. “But—” I continue. “This thing isn’t going to write itself, and we are going to the hockey game tonight.”
Rupert’s eye-roll could start a tidal wave. “Tonight. As inhoursfrom now?”
Theo returns to her desk, having been away for an hour and twenty-two minutes. Not as if I took that much care to notice.
“Or maybe—” Rupert’s face appears in front of mine, blocking my view of Theo. “This isn’t about work at all.”
“What are you talking about?” A gruffness overtakes my tone, and I rest my fingers on the keyboard, absently typing drivel, which I’ll undoubtedly delete later.
Rupert leaps from my desk, one arm folding over his chest, the opposite elbow resting atop it. “Are you and Theo—” He pauses, snapping his attention to Theo, who steals a glance at me and redirects her gaze. “Oh, my stars, what is happening between you two?” Rupert turns back to face me, playfully swatting my desk.
“Nothing’s happening. We’re two writers assigned to work together for a sporty holiday romance story.” I wince at what I typed:Sports are fun and good, and yeah.“Obviously, Simone is losing her edge with this harebrained idea.”
“Excuse me?” Simone’s commanding voice booms behind me, and if I hadn’t gone to the restroom minutes earlier, I may have pissed my pants.
“She’s behind me, isn’t she?” Pitifully, I look to Rupert to throw me a lifesaver.
Rupert purses his lips and ominously nods while also retreating.
Great. Whatever happened to solidarity?
“Simone,” I start, rising to my feet in complete preparation to eat my words from a damn trough if necessary. “I said that out of frustration and certainly didn’t mean it.”
“Frustration?” Simone lets her phone fall into a front jacket pocket and crosses her arms. “With what?” Her gaze takes on a new harshness.
She isn’t buying my plea.
Do I admit that despite the words on my screen, none of them are worth a damn?
“Alright, I’ll admit it wasn’t acompletelie, but—” I press my fingertips into the grounding hard desk surface.
“That’s better. I have zero respect for liars.” Simone pulls her phone out, and her attention is back on its screen. “Something unclear about the assignment? Should I explain it in more layman’s terms for you?”
Yowch.
“I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but I guess I’m trying to figure out what you hope to gain from our partnership. As it stands, I’m struggling to write a hockey column, a sport I’m very familiar with, because it needs to haveromanceandholiday vibesas well.”
Simone laughs. Not just a light chuckle, but a “from the pit of your stomach rattles the light fixtures decibel-level” cackle. Heads turn in our direction, silent but staring, from everyone within earshot. This includes Theo, who leans back in her chair with widened eyes.
