Page 41 of Yule Know It When You See It
We don’t complete the entire piece but get it well past the halfway point with me typing up a fury and Axel lending to the story with his hockey knowledge and know-how. We also manage to include aspects from our interviewees and unabashedly squeeze in a scene or two fromourblossoming story. Not to exclude an almost kiss amidst skating, only to be interrupted by the Zamboni.
“Whew. Okay, I’ve been holding it in for the past hour, but Ineedto use the little girl’s room. It’s an emergency at this point.” I lock my computer and jolt from my chair.
Axel pokes my side as I pass, tickling me and grinning like a jackal. I yelp and bat his hands away, shrieking about peeing myself. I head to the restroom, go about my business, wash my hands, and when I head back to my desk, ready to wrap up the work for the day with Axel, he’s nowhere to be seen.
A peculiar unease tightens my chest, and I take a step forward. Why am I suddenly so insecure? He could be getting a coffee, or going to the bathroom himself, or maybe he’s realized how silly and awkward I am and hid under his desk.
Rolling my eyes at my truly scatteredbrained activity, I shuffle down the hall, but pause when I hear Axel’s voice—from Simone’s office. Now, I’ve never been one to eavesdrop, and I know from the countless stories I’ve written it’snevera good idea. So I have no idea why I decide to do it anyway, against my better judgment.
I push a hand against the corner wall to steady myself and lean enough to hear them clearly without revealing myself.
“And you’re sure you want to do it this way?” Simone asks.
“Absolutely. It’d be easier and more efficient if I do it alone.”
“Have you talked to Romance about this?”
What? Talked to me about what? And what the hell does he mean by doing it alone?
“No. I don’t think we should. No reason to risk creativity.”
I pant like I’d run several miles, my hand becoming so clammy it slides down the wall.
“Alright then, Sports. Consider the article yours.”
Oh my—no. Axel wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t. Do. This. Would he? The kisses, the flirting, the understanding? Can it all be a ruse? A distraction?
I clamp my hands over my mouth to douse the sound of sobs slowly forcing its way out. It can’t be happening again. But I’d heard it plain as day.
Axel convinced Simone to headline the story—ourstory. Sohecan be the sole author of it.
The ease with which Theo writes scenes once the inspiration sparks is truly a sight to behold. And her typing speed? I swear the woman has Kryptonian Supergirl blood in her veins or something. She’s been this fresh, brightened drop of morning dew kissed by the sunlight since I met her, peeking through the elevator doors. But when she’s writing? Her brightness blossoms to full-blown bursts of radiance. As if I could beanymore attracted to her. This is why, after spending only a minute mulling over my decision, I make a beeline for Simone’s office once Theo is preoccupied in the restroom.
Simone’s door is cracked open, and I knock. “Simone? Do you have a moment?”
Simone remains laser-focused on paperwork organized in several neat stacks on her desk before tearing her gaze away for the few seconds it takes to see who’s at her doorway. “Oh, Sports. Come in. Have a seat.”
Running my hands through my hair, I step in and close the door behind me but leave it open a crack. I squeeze into one of two chairs facing her desk, scooting it back to make room for my knees and interlacing my hands on my stomach. “I have a proposition for you.”
Suddenly, I have Simone’s attention, and one of her thin brows arches to the ceiling. Her eyes go hooded, and the air in the room becomes dank and strangling.
I fan my palms at her and cough into my fist. “Notthatkind of proposition. Though you are a charming woman.”
I’ve never been the type to fumble over words, but here we are. Theodora Hackett strikes again, utterly clueless to the power she wields.
Simone appears disappointed for a heartbeat before her gaze is back on her papers. “Out with it, Sports.”
“While I applaud your efforts teaming me and Theo up for this holiday sports piece.” I scoot to the edge of my chair and rest my forearms on her desk, garnering more of her attention. I continue when she looks first to my limbs and finally to my face. “But let’s be honest. I have no place writing romance. I can’t say I’veeverread a romance book.”
Simone lets out a deep “I don’t have time for this nonsense sigh,” and slaps her pen to the desk. “Get to your point, Sports.”
“Theo is immensely talented, and I want to elect not to have my name on the byline.” I lift a gracious finger to halt Simone when she goes to speak. “I’ll still help with hockey references and quality check, but this should come from her. She’s proud of it, and it shouldallbe hers.”
Simone leans on one armrest, her expression melting into one that, if I were in a fantasy movie, would have me running for the hills from fear of being incinerated. “Let me get this straight.” She pushes her fingertips together. “We agreed to hire you early to work on this piece specifically, and now you’re asking to bow out?”
I mentally wince at this.
“Not at all. Theo gets the romance piece with me as a ghost co-writer, and I’ll give you a holiday hockey article that’s all fact and no fiction. You’ll get two pieces out of this instead of one.” The confidence I feel is soaring because what editor in their right mind could refuse this? I lean back and retreat to my aloof posture.
