“There won’t be a score,” she snaps.
She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment like she’s begging the universe for patience.
I lean back and watch her, amused.
She’s fighting with herself, and she has no idea how much sexier that makes her.
“How did it go with your dad?” I ask, just to give her another reason to hate me.
She gives me a look that saysburn in hell. “Perfect, thank you for bringing it up. I had to tell him you were focused on your questionnaire and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Ah. So I have a reputation as a scholar now?”
“More or less,” she mutters, eyes glued to her screen.
“And him?”
She sighs. “He’s thrilled. And he said he wants to talk to you. Something about checking in.”
I roll my eyes. “Fantastic. Couldn’t wait to discuss my love life with my coach. Maybe I’ll let him read the test results too.”
She tries to hide a sigh. Fails—but hey, points for effort.
“You can go, Becker. I have a ton of work and I need to prep the compatibility charts for Friday’s speed dating.”
I let that sit for a second, just to make sure I heard right.
I don’t expect anything. I’m not that guy.
But after that night—and that kiss today—some tiny, stupid part of me thought she might reconsider.
That maybe she’d at least think about seeing me again.
Not with a form.
Not with perfect candidates and a stopwatch.
Just… see me.
I force the thought out of my head.
“You do realize I’m a professional athlete, right? Not a middle-aged accountant in crisis.”
She looks up for a moment, like my sarcasm is a file she’s already labeled, color-coded, and stored underIrritating Behaviors of Cohen Becker.
“It’s part of the program,” she says in her manual voice. “Ithelps evaluate how you respond to different types of interaction. It’ll help you understand what kind of connection you actually want.”
She gestures with her pen, and it drives me insane.
She can’t seriously believe this shit.
“Oh sure. Because nothing screams authentic emotional connection like talking to strangers I don’t give a damn about for three minutes while a bell cuts us off.”
She lifts her chin, unbothered.
“It’s a useful exercise.”
“It’s bullshit.”
