Page 80 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

Lauren perks up, considering. “Ryan, for sure. But only because he’s built like a tank.”

“Oh, definitely,” I laugh. “Maybe there’s something more going on between you and Ryan than you’d like to admit.”

“And who would you call?” Lauren scoffs.

“Ethan … maybe? But only because he’s all calm under pressure.”

The mocking tone I bark out the latter sentence with sends us laughing again. The banter keeps up as our nails are shaped, buffed, and painted in shades of holiday red and winter white. Each of us gets a mini arm massage with lotions that smell faintly of peppermint and sugar cookies, and I almost feel like I’m dissolving into the chair by the time we’re done. The world feels a little shinier, our nails are officially flawless, and it’s been deemed a certified success of a spa day.

Later, we grab our coats and head out, trekking to a nearby movie theater within a mall, where we fully stock up on popcornand soda. We plop into our seats, pulling our jackets tighter as we settle in for the cheesiest holiday movie on the marquee.

“Alright, ladies,” Mia whispers as the previews roll. “Predictions. How many montages? How many misunderstandings? And how many near-miss kisses?”

“Montages,” Lauren replies, grinning. “Three, minimum. Near-miss kisses, two. Misunderstandings … too many to count.”

The lights dim, and we sink into the soft glow of the screen, the movie’s holiday magic washing over us. As cheesy and predictable as it is, it’s exactly the kind of holiday fluff we’re here for.

And we’re in our own little world, laughing and playfully roasting every cliché and predictable plot twist. By the time the credits roll, we’re all smiling and a little teary-eyed, thoroughly wrapped up in the comfort of cheesy holiday movies, freshly painted nails, and a perfectly indulgent day.

All three ofus are laughing as we traipse back to the car. I feel a little lighter, a little happier, and sporting the most holiday spirit this side of the North Pole.

We are about to climb back in when I realize just one earring dangles from my left ear. Cue the mental scramble. Last seen? Movie theater. Probability of finding it? Close to zero. But it’s a favorite—a simple, silver hoop that feels like a good luck charm. So back inside I go, hoping for a mini-Christmas miracle.

Inside, the mall is still pulsing with frantic shoppers. But something else grabs my attention—a sight I wasn’t prepared for.

Ethan, in all his casually rugged glory, stands in a corner of the lobby. And beside him? A blonde who’s all sultry angles and dangerous curves, dressed like she’s ready to walk into a Hollywood gala.

She’s wearing a cocktail dress that hugs every inch, glossy gold tresses falling in waves, lips painted the kind of red that commands rooms. They’re standing close—closer than two strangers need to be, speaking with a warm aura that suggests familiarity.

The moment feels like someone pressed pause. Ethan hadn’t mentionedher. He’d said he’d be with the guys. That little detail becomes a thorn, sharp and persistent, as my mind runs wild with questions and theories, each one worse than the last.

But this isn’t some rom-com where people start a scene in public. With every ounce of willpower, I turn back toward the exit, my head spinning, hoping the sight of her slips away as fast as it came.

Mia and Lauren are in the car, their chatter and laughter grounding, familiar. Lauren’s gaze flickers to me, eyebrow raised, concern sneaking into her eyes.

“Everything okay?”

A small nod. “Yep, just ... lost that earring, I think. I’d like to go straight home now, girls.”

They share a look but none of them say anything as they drive straight for the house. Back inside, the day’s magic feels oddly out of place against the backdrop of an empty, silent house. A glass of wine seems the best distraction, but even the boldest red can’t erase the scene replaying in my mind. The hours drag on, and every creak of the door feels like it should be him, returning with some logical explanation.

When Ethan finally steps through, I’m practically at the door. He wraps me in a hug, his smile warm and teasing as he sayssomething about “missing him” so much I had to get home early. A half-hearted smile tugs at my lips, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.

“So, where were you?” I ask, hoping it sounds casual, though my heart’s doing double time. His answer’s nonchalant, vague. “Just out with the guys, nothing special.”

The thorn twists, sharper now, and a part of me knows I can’t keep this inside. But voicing it? Asking about the woman? Somehow, it feels raw, like exposing something that could backfire.

As night falls, I retreat to my room, my mind swimming in worst-case scenarios, remembering past betrayals that now seem all too close.Liar.It feels like a drop of cold water has landed right in the pit of my stomach, and my mind loops back to every inch of makeup and designer dress that mystery woman was wearing.

Hours later, after a torturous evening of sidelong glances and questions that burn behind my eyes, Lauren calls.

She’s on me like a hawk. “Spill. What’s wrong? And don’t give me that ‘everything’s fine’ crap.”

Sighing, I finally admit, “Saw him at the mall. He was with someone else, Lauren. Some glamorous woman I’ve never seen.”

“Did you ask him about it?” Her voice is cautious, urging patience.

“Not directly,” I say, shrinking a little under the weight of my own insecurities. “He didn’t mention the mall, so maybe ... maybe he just doesn’t think it matters?”

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