“Are you both still in middle school? Stop being immature. You both lost your writing mojo and youbothbetter find it. Whether you hate each other or love each other, you pick which one, I don’t care. When you hated each other and competed against one another, you wrote amazing things—when you were fucking like teenagers in heat you were even more amazing. But thislimbois killing my magazine.” Gail straightens and starts pacing behind her desk. “My first thought was to lock you together in a room until you were back to normal, but I’ve come up with an idea that has the potential for hysterics and fun beyond my wildest imagination, and therefore better for the magazine in the long run.”
We both gawk at her.
“What do you mean you’ve come up with an idea that’s fun beyondyourwildest imagination?” I ask, horrified.
“I live by the motto: When life slams a door in your face, open it back up. It’s a fucking door, people. That’s how doors work,” she says.
“Explain,” Dex grunts.
“Before I do, I want to ask you both to have an open mind about thisandhaving that open mind means you have to listen to other points of view without getting yourselves all triggered up. If you get triggered, you’re not being open-minded, you’re just stuck in your own issues, and as I said, that’s not working forUPCLOSE.”
“Sounds like neither of us are going to like your idea,” Dex barks.
“See, closed-minded already,” she snaps, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Just spit it out, Gail,” Dex gripes, hitting his fist against the arm of his chair.
“You’ll be working together on an ongoing column,” she starts.
Okay, this isn’t the first time we’ve done this. We do write well together; I can admit that. We wouldn’t even have to be in the same place to do it, we could email each other back and forth.No problemo.
“The articles will be about two very different people, who once thought themselves to be in a good relationship together,” she pauses for dramatic effect, then says, “beginning to date again.”
My heart stutters to a stop and restarts in triple time.Date again? Date each other?
She holds her index finger up to me, so I keep quiet and continue listening. “You will both visit the hottest dating get-togethers and mixers this city has to offer. Each of you will partake in all areas of the event like the single people you are, looking for love. But it must be done together, at the same time. Each of you writing your side of the story from your point of view while watching your ex-lover do the same.”
She wants me to watch Dex go on dates? Mingle at singles parties? Is she trying to kill me?Both of us start to refuse the project, but she slams down a hand to her desk with a loud thwap and we both fall silent.
“I have a list of the most amazing adventures for singles looking for fun, and you’ll both be hitting all of them,” she says, smiling happily.
“You can’t make us work together like that,” Dex blurts.
Gail ignores him. “I will text you each the times, what sort of event it is, and where to meet a few hours before it happens. All events will be kept a secret from you both, unless it’s something you need time to travel to or prepare for the event somehow.”
“And if we refuse?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady and peeking a quick glance at Dex to see his expression. His face is bright red and he’s starting to sweat.
“I’ll ignore you,” she smiles tightly. “Or,” she points at a stack of papers lying near the edge of her desk, “I could thumb through the three thousand, five hundred, twenty-eight resumes, each one begging for a job like yours, in case either of you are feeling foolishly irreplaceable.”
Dex rubs a hand over his mouth. He only does that when he’s really overwhelmed. I want to shove Gail out of here and ask him what he’s thinking, if he’s as mortified as I am about all this, and what his thoughts on hate-sex are. I also want to comfort him andthatmakes me want to punch myself in the face.
He clears his throat. “Gail. I think we could come up with a list of more appropriate articles that—"
“Dex, dear. Right this second, to me, your opinion is a lot like an orgasm. Mine is way more important than yours, and I really don’t give a shit if you even have one.”
Dex is stunned stupid. He just freezes and stares at her, his jaw hitting the floor.
“Okay. Let me get this straight,” I say, taking a deep, long breath. “You want Dex and I to buddy date? You’re telling us we have to watch each other meet new people, go to the hottest singles’ events around, all while having to deal with the unspoken emotions we haven’t figured out between us yet?”
“Yes,” she smiles brightly. “Exactly.”
My stomach rolls and bile rises up the back of my throat, stinging my tongue.
Gail walks to the door and opens it, dismissing us instantly.
The tears, the bile—if I don’t get out of here quickly, I’m going to cry-puke in front of both of them. I shove my way past the chair and feel the heat of Dex’s body follow close behind me. I hate that I can feel him in the room.
Gail holds up her hand, stopping us before we move through the doorway. My legs freeze and my body stills, but Dex plows into the back of me. The collision of muscles and heat against me is too much to bear, and I clutch onto the doorframe to keep myself vertical.
