Page 42 of The Problem with Dating

My floor.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you on the fifteenth floor? Get off my floor!”

He muttered a cuss word under his breath. “Those people didn’t hit the fifteenth floor. It skipped mine.” He got off the elevator and started following me down the hallway. “And it’s not your floor. You just live on it.”

“Yeah, well. It’s mine now. Get off my floor!”

“I am. I’m taking the stairs down,” Alex stated, gesturing toward the staircase exit across from my apartment.

“Take them faster,” I urged.

He then proceeded to walk in slow motion.

Now who’s immature, Mr. Cocoa Butter?

“Ugh. You’re a pain in my—”

“Careful, Goldie,” he stated. He glanced down the hallway before moving in closer to whisper. So close that his hot breath melted against my cheek. So close that my heartbeats intensified from his proximity. “You wouldn’t want the townsfolk to hear you mutter a bad word. It would destroy your good-girl reputation.”

“I hate you,” I spat out, feeling so tiny next to his broad frame.

“So you’ve stated.”

“Some things are worth repeating.”

“And that was one of them?”

“That was one of them,” I agreed.

He brushed his hand across his mouth before dropping it to his side. I stared at his mouth as if in a trance. I hated him. I knew I did. I had to hate him. He was mean, grumpy, and—gosh. What was that with his eyes? Now and again, his eyes would flash with a moment of softness I wanted to unpack. Why did I want to know the story behind his pages? Why did I care about the ink that scribbled against his soul?

“Are you okay?” I blurted out without thought. My chest hurt from seeing that flash in his eyes. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me from the pained expression he hadn’t even known he’d showcased.

Why did I feel the need to hug him? Why did I feel like I wanted to cry?

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I replied, shaking off the odd urge that washed over me. “Go away, will you?”

“I’m going.”

“Can’t wait not to see you again.” I sarcastically smiled.

He didn’t smile back.

Figured.

He flicked his thumb across his nose. “For the record, I don’t hate you, Goldie.”

“Why not?” I questioned as my heart did cartwheels and karate chops within my chest. “If you’d like, I’ll try harder to annoy you to get you to match my hatred.”

“No point in doing that. Hating people takes energy, and I don’t want to waste my energy on this.”

“You’re saying I’m not worth your energy?” I stood taller and placed my hands against my hips. “You’re saying I’m that worthless?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “I’m saying no person is worth that energy. People are constantly letting others down. They can't disappoint you if you don’t expect anything from them. I reserve my energy for other things.”

“Like?”

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