“There's nothing to talk about." She sets her laptop on the table next to her, getting to her feet. "I just need working WiFi."
"Holly—"
"Don't—” She snatches off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, “...can you please just fix the internet and go.”
“Yeah. Internet. Fine.” Nothing personal, just get her back online and be on my way.
Snagging the seat across from hers, I pull out my gear. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can go right back to the part I promised I’d play.
Dickhead Duty under the direct harassment of a goddamned possessed mistletoe drunk on power, while making sure I don’t blow past the line of Nick’s warning.
Make that warnings.
Because at the moment there are two in effect. The classicDon’t Fuck My Sister Decreeaging like a top-tier bourbon, and the newly proclaimedFuck Around With My Sisters Feelings and Find Out Frameworkhe just rolled out.
“Uh, Chance?”
“What?”It’s more a snarl than a response, but I’m getting warmed up for my shift tomorrow.
She rears back and I immediately regret my tone.
Cocking her head, her eyebrows pitch to theand just who in the hell do you think you areposition.
“I was going to warn you the vein is throbbing again, but fuck it, let the thing explode for all I care.” She’s equal parts determined kid I grew up with, fiery spitfire fresh off a baggage claim, and part boardroom battle ax in her prime.
In the face of all of it, there’s just one thing to say.
"You try rebooting?"
I’ve never been a bigger idiot in my life.
"Of course I tried rebooting. Maybe someone shouldrebootyou. But in the interest of solving the current problem, I also tried praying, swearing, and threatening the damn thing with frequent flyer miles, destination straight out a goddamned window.
Any other stupid questions?"
"Sounds like you've got quite the relationship with technology."
"Yeah, well, at least I'm honest about my failed relationships."
Walked right into that trap.
Hell, I didn't just walk into the trap. I set the damn thing.
Now I can add a brand new skill to my resume—Proven proficiency at kicking myself in my own ass.
“Right.” The elephant in the room demands attention, so I lean back, and let the weight of the silence stretch between us. "So you want to talk about that, or you want me to fix your connection?"
"Fixtheconnection.Myconnections are just fine.” The words come out clipped. Clinical. "The rest…” she looks me up and down, “…doesn't matter."
I bite back my reply, because we’re here because I fucked up.
There’s a price to be paid for it.
For now.
"Alright then." I nod my head at her laptop. “So that sweet little rabid ass of yours back down and let’s start."
Her mouth falls open before she remembers herself and snaps is shut again.
