Page 108 of Debugging Love

“I feel like you’re mad at me,” Chance says.

“I’m not mad.” I say it too quickly, which makes it sound like I’m mad. I am totally not mad.

“Okay. You seem a little cranky, then.”

I whip my head to flash him my “on no you didn’t” face.

He’s smiling. When we lock eyes, he chuckles.

“Was that one of your jokes?”

“Sorta.”

I break eye contact and refocus on the transparent water. “So you sorta think I’m cranky.”

Chance adjusts his position and his knees come dangerously close to touching my thigh, which reminds me of how amazing it felt sitting on his sturdy shoulders.

My body and my logical mind clearly aren’t in sync. I’m deferring to my mind. “I might be a little grumpy at times,” I admit. “I’m not sure Chai World is time well spent, to be honest. Part of me would rather be in the office working on the benefits portal app.”

“I’m enjoying being here with you,” Chance says.

Players gonna play.

“Nice try,” I say to Chance’s knee, “but it’s not going to work.”

“What’s not going to work?” The confusion is apparent in his voice, and probably on his face too, but I’m not giving my body the satisfaction of looking at his gorgeous mug.

“You are not turning me into a Chanceling.”

If eyebrows made noise, his would probably be squeaking right now, but again, not looking at him.

He grabs my hand. My eyes rest on his face. Drat. “What are you doing?”

“Why won’t you talk to me, Danni?”

And just like that, my body is in control again. I fall back against the step. How can my name coming out of his mouth render me so useless?

Systems check. Arms? Immobile. Legs? Worthless. Heart? In the red. Logic? Fuzzy. Diagnostic report: Speak your truth firmly to re-exert control of bodily functions.

“I’m not one of your conquests, Chance. We’re not hooking up tonight.”

“I don’t want to hook up,” he says with an exasperated sigh. “I just want to know why you hate me.”

I turn so fast that water sloshes against the edge of the pool. “I saw you with Bedhead Becky.”

Why is he grinning? This isn’t funny. “With who?”

“Bedhead Becky. Sunday morning. In the red dress that barely covered her derriere.”

Chance’s chest buckles. He catches his head in his hands, pausing there for a moment before rubbing his face. “I’m sorry you saw that.”

“You’re sorry you slept with her after kissing me or you’re sorry I saw you with her.”

Chance jumps back like he did that day in the office when I barely touched him. If I touch him now, lightning bolts will come out of his head like a Tesla coil. “No, that’s not what happened. That is not what happened at all.” He presses his palms against the air to punctuate his statement.

“Didn’t get lucky then?”

“Danni.” He says it forcefully, without a hint of huskiness. I might like this way even better. “She got really drunk on our date and I didn’t know where she lived. I let her sleep on my bed while I slept on my couch.”

---