“It’s your favorite,” he says, snatching the forms from Juliette’s clipboard and slapping them into my hands. “Paperwork.” His smirk is all teeth as he steers Sienna toward the lawn. “I’ll handle the talent.”
“Hartwell—”
“Stick with what you’re good at, Stopwatch.” He doesn’t look back.
Surprise, surprise.He picked the hot biologist. Of course he did. I’m sure she’s exactly his type. A woman who doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t wait to get chosen. Doesn’t lose.
Why do I do this to myself?
I need to stop fantasizing about Cole’s hands. Time to start acting like the badass I am. Thefirstchoice for this promotion.
Focusonthewin,nothim.
I smile at Juliette, exuding calm authority that I don’t feel. “I’ll have these back to you by the end of the weekend. No problem.”
“Today.”
“End of today,” I nod. “That’s what I meant by ‘weekend.’”
She pivots and walks away.
“YOOOO, LISTEN UP, SQUAD!” Blaze hollers from across the lawn. “DR. O just strolled in like the LEGEND HE IS. Drop the confetti, sound the alarms, we got an ocean rockstar at this PARTY!”
My head snaps up from the insurance forms.
Orson is on stage beside Blaze, blinking at the crowd and resembling a man who walked into the wrong room and hasn’t figured out how to leave yet.
“My brain just EXPLODED with a GENIUS idea! Who’s ready to TURN UP and be tied to the SCIENCE KING!?”
Oh no no no. Sienna told us Orson does NOT participate.
I throw the forms on my chair and run.
The grass is hot under my sneakers.
Normally I would radio in this type of emergency, but after the foam cannon gala incident, I made a tactical decision. Blaze no longer gets an earpiece. His brain short-circuits from the dueling voices. Instead of directing him through comms like a normal producer, I now physically sprint to him whenever he “has an idea.”
“Blaze!” I skid to a stop at the stage steps, wheezing. He beams.
“IVY, Dude! You’re right on time.”
What fresh hell is about to tumble out of that mouth?
I snatch his mic and mute it faster than he can say “hold my beer.” I remind myself(again)that he is the talent. The reason we have an audience. The man who holds my career hostage in his sun-kissed, reckless hands and doesn’t even know it.
Cole walks up with Sienna.
A burn of jealousy flares in my chest, but I quench it with a swallow. Cole and the gorgeous scientist’s shoulders are basically touching.
They can stand however close they want; I don’t care. My skin’s not crawling. Your skin’s crawling.
Blaze throws an arm around Orson.
“I got a major idea, bros,” Blaze says, pumping his fists. “GROUP ENTANGLEMENT. Four people tied up. Maximum chaos. Me, Dr. O, and two smokin’ singles in bikinis. Extra points if they’re—” he gestures at his chest “—y’know. Blessed.”
He flexes his pecs.
Orson tugs at his polo collar like it might save him. “I’m not sure that’s—”
