Damn, she was good. Perceptive. I needed to throw her off.
“I’m the unfuckable nerd who hasn’t been able to get a guy in twenty-six years, Leelah, remember? You thought I went from that to raging sex maniac with some office rando overnight?”
This was not the first time I’d described myself as an unfuckable nerd out loud or to myself. But it was the first time the words actually hurt. They used to be a statement of fact. I spent all my time buried in math and gears, sonerdwas accurate. And no one had ever proven me wrong about the unfuckable thing, so…the logic was sound.
But after last night, I knew the truth. Nerd? Yes. Unfuckable? Decidedly not. And I’d wasted years not having the sex I deserved because of that insidious fallacy.
This is why you don’t accept a scientific principle without doing the research to back it up.
“Scout, I’m one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. You’re not going to gaslight me into disbelieving obvious evidence.”
“And what evidence is that? Just some accidental glances?”
“I’ll have you know that I’m extremely perceptive, Scout. I walk into a room, I survey the landscape, and I instantly know what’s going on with people. I may only have been at BuzzCorp for a day, but it’s obvious what’s going on between you two. He wasn’t justlookingat you. It was more than that. It was like…relief.”
The gates of the park suddenly loomed very close, which meant that our office was only a few blocks farther.
“Relief?” I asked, hating how such an idea made my heart palpitate.
“Yeah. He would focus on work for a little bit, then he would scan the room for you, then when he saw you again, his whole face would relax. Like he was worried you would disappear and was relieved every time he saw that you were still around.”
I stepped aside to let a roller skater split between Leelah and me. I was grateful for even the brief distance. She was too close—not just physically, but emotionally, too.
“What guy looks at a woman like that if he’s not gagging to get back into her pants? Well, I guess he could be in love with you, but you guys barely even talk, so I’m assuming the sex reason is more realistic.”
He could be in love with you.Not likely. I wouldn’t let it happen.
“Or,” I retorted, “what’s most realistic is that you’ve been watching too many rom-coms since your breakup and now you want to see the world through Hallmark-tinted glasses.”
Leelah rolled her eyes. “Well, then I guess I justimaginedthe text he sent you when you got up to get our order at lunch?”
“What text?”
I dug into my pocket for the offending iPhone. Leelah reminded me that earlier, I’d given it to her so she could watch some video of drag queens talking about our products on their podcast, but I tuned her out.
When I put in my passcode, I found the offending text immediately, spelling out my doom in thousands of pixels.
Scout, I can’t stop thinking about you—or last night. Hope you’re more focused on work than I am today. I’m finding it impossible to code when all I want is to feel you cum around me again. Dinner tonight?
There was another text, too. It had followed five minutes later.
Shit. Too much? Sorry, new to this friends-with-benefits thing. Be prepared to endure many cringey texts as I navigate this learning curve.
A million thoughts crossed my mind at once. Shock…and frustration…and a whole lot of relief.
“Youdidn’tcatch him looking at me! You made all that up to cover up the fact that you saw this text!”
“Yes, but I had a good reason to lie! If I told you I read the texts earlier, you’d’ve totally been mad at me, stormed off back to work, and not been my friend anymore. I was trying to preserve this very new gal-pals thing we’ve got going on here!”
The air rushed out of my lungs. “I’m not mad, but you scared the hell out of me! You made me think everyone in the office already knew! I thought I was going to have to call it off with Hudson because we were being too obvious!”
Her face drew up in horror. “Don’t do that! Oh my God, youcan’tdo that! You two are perfect for each other. I’ve been here one day, and I already know that.”
Not this again. Even after admitting her bullshit, she was still trying to convince me we had more than sex going between us. “Leelah.”
“It’s true! You’re this stone-cold badass steminist loner and he’s this cheerful sex helpmate. He’s going to break down your walls and you’re going to, like, make him fall in love for real for the first time.”
I had a choice before me. Tell her the truth or let her walk around thinking we were in the middle of some great love story. I chose the former. Did I want to? No, not really. Every anxiety about mixing up sex and work bubbled to the surface. But I didn’t have many options, either. I outlined the entire plot of casual sexand absolute (almost) secrecy. Opening up was not my strong suit, though, so it came out in awkward fits and starts.
