She stands, gathering her bag. I stand as well, holding the document low in my left hand, making damn sure not to expose the tentpole lifting my trousers. The coffee table separates us, which helps, but not much.
She's small compared to me—even in her boots, the top of her head barely reaches my chin. She would fit perfectly against my chest, and maybe I would fit?—
—Jesus fucking Christ, I need to stop.
Emmy leans back but maintains eye contact, the movement exposing her throat. Slim, creamy. I imagine dragging my tongue along the side, trailing kisses up to?—
I force my gaze back to her face.
She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up and out. "So you're saying we need a backstory? Like how we went from hating each other to dating?"
"Exactly. The transition needs to be believable."
"Let me guess—you've already mapped out our meet-cute?"
"I don't know what a meet-cute is, but I have three options, each with varying degrees of plausibility."
She laughs—genuine, surprised. The sound does something to me.
My body's response intensifies. I'm hard now. This is inappropriate, unprofessional, problematic. I need her to leave before she notices.
I turn toward the windows, pretending to look out. "I'll email you the timeline and first date details."
"Right. Timeline. Because, of course." She heads toward the door. Pauses. "Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For this. I know it's ... unconventional, but that library … I can't let it go. I refuse to."
"It's logical."
"Still. Thank you."
The door closes behind her.
I remain facing the windows, forehead pressed against the cool glass, trying to bury my growing certainty that I've made a catastrophic miscalculation. I adjust my trousers.
Sixty days of pretending with Emmy.
Sixty days of being close to her, touching her, acting like she's mine.
Can I get through this? I already can't control my physical reaction to simply being in the same room.
I exhale and watch my breath fog the glass.
This was supposed to be logical. Mutually beneficial. Professional.
Instead, I'm quite certain I just orchestrated my own unraveling.
Am I headed for a work-life balance complicated by dramas and unintended consequences?
===
3
EMMY
Aday after signing an agreement to fake-date Adrian, I'm standing on the curb outside my apartment building, wondering if I've lost my mind.
