Page 12 of Merry Little Hate Notes

Thankfully, no one was sitting near Holly. Most people liked to work closer to the common area with a gourmet kitchen and free snacks, including a soda fountain and ice cream machine.

It didn’t surprise me Holly chose a quieter, out-of-the-way spot. That was her MO. Christian and I used to surmise she was silently plotting to take over the world someday. The world would be a better place for it.

“Good morning,” I coughed out like a pubescent boy speaking to his crush for the first time.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, refusing to look at me while she typed. But at least she’d talked to me. This was progress.

I set the drink carrier and my laptop case on the free desk next to hers before taking off my coat and draping it across a chair. I was getting ready to break the ice and prove to my mom I didn’t need a wingman. Women loved when you remembered little things about them.

Feeling overly confident, I grabbed the coffee and held it out toher. “This is for you. Peppermint mocha. Your favorite.” At least, I hoped it still was.

She side-eyed the cup suspiciously and, without a word, went back to typing.

Not one to give up, I set the cup near her. “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She looked around before turning her gorgeous head toward me. Her stunning ice-blue eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Although, I wouldn’t put tampering past you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know you’re up to something. So let’s keep our conversations work related only. And even then, use Slack or email when possible.”

Well, that didn’t go as planned. I figured she would have misgivings, but what did she think I was up to? Unwilling to believe I needed Mom’s wingman services, I decided to go the humor route and remind her of our shared past. Women loved a funny, sentimental guy. Right?

I leaned in closer, breathing in her soft vanilla scent, reminding me of the best times of my life. Times with her. Which is why I foolishly said these next words: “Are you still angry with me because I know you used to play court with your stuffed animals and Scotty the Squirrel got off because I refused to testify?”

I still had the note she’d left me telling me I was in contempt of court. It went something like,His Honor, Judge Barry Bear, holds you in contempt of court for failing to appear. You are hereby sentenced to never speak to me again.That sentence lasted all of about a day until she wanted Christian and me to watchKim Possiblewith her, which of course we would never admit to watching. Or liking.

Holly craned her neck and hit me with the most ferocious, you-are-the-dumbest-man-alive look. I didn’t know a person’s face could pinch so tightly. Holy hell.

I took a step back, fearing for my life and thinking maybe Iwasthe dumbest man alive.

Holly said nothing, but her expression said it all—Talk to me again and die.

I was willing to take the risk because being near Holly was themost alive I’d felt in years. I wondered when my momwas going to be dropping off those sticky notes. It looked like I was going to need a wingman after all.

HOLLY

“SORRY I’M JUST NOW CALLING you,” Carmen apologized over the phone Tuesday morning while I was making lunches for Dad and me. “Both my abuelas decided to stay in town a little longer. They have joined forces and decided I need lessons on how to catch a husband, which included buying me a new wardrobe. My closet now looks like an Anthropologie store. And I’m now the proud owner of ten tunics embroidered with ancient Mayan patterns. I even have a new bra that was woven on a loom. But with the bra came a warning—apparently if anyone but my husband sees it, he’ll die. So, that’s my life in a nutshell. How are you? How did it go yesterday?”

I couldn’t answer for giggling so hard. I loved Carmen’s abuelas. Maybe if I told them I was searching for a husband, they would buy me a new wardrobe too. I loved Anthropologie, but I hadn’t been able to afford that luxury in years. I was now proudly in my bargain rack and clearance era, or my Costco phase. Who knew the wholesale warehouse would ever come in clutch for me? Once I got my snickering under control, I was able to fill her in on the evil that was Brandon.

“Get this: He brought me coffee and reminded me I used to play court with my stuffed animals. I would totally have scored a conviction if not for him.” Scotty the Squirrel had been bad news.Seriously, of all the things from our past he could have brought up, he chose that? If he were a decent person, he might have said something like, “I’m so sorry I stole your first kiss and made you believe I had feelings for you.” I wouldn’t have believed him, but at least he could have apologized.

“Oh. My. Gosh. The horror,” she said in mock outrage. “He bought you coffee and brought up a funny childhood memory? You should report him to HR.”

Actually, I could report him. I left out the most vital piece of information on purpose—the sticky note thing would remain my dirty little secret. As dumb as it sounded, those notes had been kind of sacred to me in an unholy way. A piece of my childhood I loved, even if Brandon was a part of it. Honestly, I never expected it to follow us into adulthood, but apparently Brandon thought it was a good idea. I guess he wanted to make sure I knew he really hated me. The jerk left me thislovelynote yesterday after I headed to the bathroom for an extended period of time, hoping to avoid him and catch up on the office gossip:Be careful there, Holly-Pops, your scowl makes you look like you caught a case of resting Grinch face.You heard me right. The man said I had RGF.

Like, how old was he? I so badly wanted to raid the office supply closet and grab a stack of sticky notes, but then I reminded myself I was a mature adult. You know, after I worked in the bathroom for an hour. But that’s beside the point, which is that I chose not to retaliate and tell him his face isn’t worth sunburning. Of course, that would have been a lie. He looked so incredibly gorgeous yesterday, strutting in like he was walking off the pages of a fashion magazine, wearing chinos with a dress shirt and jacket that were tailored to fit him perfectly. To top off the ensemble, he paired it with leather sneakers like he was too cool for school. Don’t even get me going on the stubble so masterfully painted onto his strong cheeks and jawline.

“I’m telling you, he’s up to something,” I whined to Carmen.

“Okay,” she said like she wanted to believe me but wasn’t so sure. “Did he act like he didn’t want to close any deals?”

“Well ... no. But he has to put on a show. He’s the company rock star and everyone loves him. They just don’t know the real Brandon like I do. I know this is just an act. This is exactly what he did to megrowing up. He lured me into his trap, making me feel things I never should have, and then he pulverized my heart like the butcher he is. He’s just waiting to pull out his meat cleaver again, I know it.”

“Wow. Such violent imagery this morning.”

I stopped slicing a mango for our lunches and set the knife on the outdated tile countertop, feeling foolish even though I knew I was right. “You don’t believe me.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “You think I’m crazy.”

---