Page 68 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

“That’s me!” perking up in my chair, my heart flutters, already piecing together who the flowers must be from. Only one person would know my favorite combination of roses and lilies.

The flowers are set down on my desk, a vibrant, fragrant explosion amid the chaos of papers and post-its. Lauren and Mia both raise their eyebrows, exchanging glances.

“Well, well, well,” Lauren says, leaning in, her smirk growing by the second. “Looks like someone’s having averymerry Christmas.”

Mia laughs. “You got yourself a secret admirer, or is this from yournot-so-secretadmirer?”

My cheeks flush with heat as I reach for the card nestled between the flowers. My mind already pictures Ethan’s gruff, brooding face softened by a rare smile as he sent them. The thought makes my stomach do that stupid fluttery thing it’s been doing ever since Ethan waltzed into my life and decided toun-broodjust for me.

“Oh, he’s such a romantic,” Lauren teases, practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at you, living your best rom-com life.”

My laughter bubbles, my attempt to act casual as I slip the card from the envelope falling short. “He really outdid himself this time, huh?”

She swats me playfully. “Look at you, allgiddyand glowing like a string of Christmas lights.”

Dropping the card, my phone’s quickly in my hand, fingers typing furiously as I call Ethan. The phone rings, and my heart does that little somersault it’s perfected whenever I hear his voice.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual and not like I’ve just turned into a lovesick teenager. “Thanks for the flowers! I don’t recall telling you my favorites, actually.”

There’s a pause, the kind that makes you think the line dropped. Then, “What? Flowers? I didn’t send anything.”

Oh. Oh ...wait, what?

“Well ... oh sorry!” I mutter, a little too brightly as my brain aches to switch topics. “Never mind! I mean, thanks for, uh, being you. How was practice?”

He chuckles on the other end, clearly confused by mychaotic vibes. “Good. What are you doing?”

“Work. You know, the usual. Might be a bit late.”

“Oh. Don’t make me wait too long. See you at home.”

When the call ends, I’m left standing there, phone in one hand, bouquet in the other, and a head full of questions. If Ethan didn’t send the flowers, then who the?—

My eyes scan the open card, heart stuttering, tripping over the words written there. The note is short, simple:

“You may not want to see me again, but at least give me one more chance. Let’s meet—just once. Jake.”

The entire joy is replaced by a sinking feeling that settles deep in my chest like a stone.

Lauren notices the change immediately. “Holly? What’s wrong?”

“These...” I begin, my voice strained, holding up the card. “These aren’t from Ethan.”

Mia frowns. “Wait, what?”

“They’re from Jake,” my grip tightens on the card, hands trembling slightly as the realization sinks in—Jake, once again, inserting himself where hedoes not belong. He’s been doing this for weeks now. The accidental meetings, the box of chocolates I tossed without a second thought, and now this?

“That slimy—” I start, but instead grab my phone, dialing with a sharp flick of my thumb.

“Jake.” The name hisses from my lips the moment he answers, coated in frustration. “You need to stop. Now.”

“Whoa, Holly, slow down,” Jake’s voice is smooth, too smooth, like he’s still under the delusion that this is all some charming game. “What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? You’ve been orchestrating these ‘coincidences’ like some kind of rom-com villain! Thechocolates, the ‘accidental’ run-ins, and now flowers? Are you seriously trying to crawl back into my life?”

Jake’s laugh is low, almost mocking. “Crawl? I wouldn’t say that. I just thought you might want to, I don’t know, reconsider.”

“Reconsider? Jake, we’ve beenoverfor months. In fact. I’ve moved on. We’re done.”

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