Page 80 of Rules in Love
I waved Scarlett through the door and gave her a quick pat on the bum for good measure. “He’s right. We better head upstairs. I need to find that list.”
Scarlett should have known I wouldneverjoke about a list.
Twenty minutes later, proud as punch and grinning like a fool, I wandered into Team Finnlett’s HQ and dropped it like it was hot—a list of sins and debauchery, not my ass.
“Wow. This is thorough, more fun, and way less Judgy Judgerton than my ideologies. Neater too. I should have known even your fantasy make-out sessions were meticulously planned and located in exceptionally clean but snug spaces.”
Leaning in close, I ran my thumb down her neck. “You know I love a good, snug space, Red.”
All work was suspended at that point, and we set to the task of trying out as many spots as we could as quickly and inconspicuously as we could. The one Teddy finally busted in on us—thank the Lord it was him—was beneath the staircase that led to the outdoor garden. In theory, it was a perfect spot, but Scarlett’s bright-pink skirt and yellow shirt meant someone on Mars could have spotted her between the open metal grating.
“If you two wanna keep this on the down low, you’ll have to stop dressing like the pride flag, Scarlett. You gotta camouflage that shit up!”
“He’s right, isn’t he?” she asked as she buttoned her shirt.
“Little bit, yeah.”
We did much better the next day. Looking dark and sexy and kind of like she was off to a hot-girl funeral, Scarlett dragged me into the server closet, and no one noticed. When I swept her into the emergency stairwell, let her grope me like a ninth grader, and got us locked out, only Teddy, who I called to let us back in, knew. It especially worked the next day when I pressed her up against me in the copy room and photocopied the world’s best boobs.
This pattern continued for possibly the best month of my life. I didn’t once think of my three-year plan or going home, and even considered what the USA forever future may look like. The guilt and grief I carried constantly were lifted from my shoulders with every kiss, and the weeks flew by in a blur of inside jokes, shared lunches, and sneaky sleepovers, where, to put it plainly, we shagged so hard that I could barely walk most days. Scarlett felt much the same, but obviously, my pain was worse as a male. Treatment for repetitive strain injuries of the pelvis may have been Googled.
As thrilling, and fun, and sexy as it all was, our dirty little secret was perhaps a secret no more.
Scarlett
Sweater weather had arrived, and Jason and his blue cashmere were onto us.
Honestly, it wasn’t hard to see why. Finn and I were as discreet as Wednesday Addams at a Spice Girls concert. Like a hawk hunting its prey, he’d stalked us for a good portion of his morning, floating in the wasteland between his office and our HQ, just waiting for us to slip up so he could capture us in his hawky talons and feast on our carcass. On each fly-through, he would stop, pop his head in the door, maybe raise his brows, look at Finn, look at me, nod, and motion between us like he could entice us into a confession. A thorough rub of his chin would follow his failure, and then he’d just grunt and walk away. Even when in his office, his predatory stare rarely left us, especially when Victoria joined in.
These looky-loos started the day before after he’d come alarmingly close to catching Finn and me going at it like rabbits on the fire escape. We managed to pull apart before he saw anything…or so we thought. Then, this morning, Team Finnlett was kicked out of our beloved conference room A. Apparently, it was needed for an upcoming pitch worth more money, but the timing was highly suspicious, and my fear was unwarranted and kind of stupid. I knew he and Victoria were in a relationship, and he knew I knew. Jan had given us the thumbs-up on interoffice dating. The woman had practically smooshed our faces together and forced us to kiss. But despite all this, my anxiety, my need to please and do the right thing, raged.
Between eyeballing Jason and Victoria and trying to do anything remotely useful, I also kept my eyes on Finn—a tough job, but somebody had to do it. He was so sweet. He’d been showing one of the new interns, Ronald, how to use our design system with such patience and kindness I wanted to push Ronnie out of the way and hump his leg. Even while helping the kid, I could see Finn was just as stressed about Jason busting us as I was. He’d given me the she’s-all-good-mate thumbs-up twice but countered that by tapping his fingers against his thigh and extra heavy-duty desk arranging.Classic stressed Finn.We needed a distraction, though probably not the one that kept popping into my mind. No, wandering over to my man’s desk, straddling his luscious thighs, and enjoying the ride would not be helpful to our predicament.
As time ticked away, my anxiety and lust hit their peaks. Honestly, I felt as though I’d been struck down with some stress- and lust-induced stupidity. Just that morning, I spilled my coffee twice. I called Arthur, the IT guy, Gordon three times, and much to the delight of Gareth the Creep, I had strutted into the men’s restroom instead of the ladies’. As I shielded my eyes and ran, Gareth’s enthusiastic invitation to stay and give him a hand was not accepted.
Around eleven, while hunched over my desk, pretending to work but really practicing my Scarlett Austen signature, something struck me in the back of the head.
“Fuck it, Teddy!” It lodged in my nest of curls, and my immediate suspicion was that my bestie was throwing spitballs at me again. But when I reached into my messy bun, it was not a disgustingly moist wad of paper but a paper plane with the words ‘OPEN ME’ written on its wings.
Finn’s handwriting!
Inside the meticulously folded paper was a handwritten note and a sweet caricature of me.Of course, he can draw too.
Meet me under the cherry tree at one. Bring your sexy ass, a coat in case it’s cold, and your appetite.
At the stroke of twelve, Cinderella-style panicking over Jason’s lingering presence struck. It had also been a whole thirty minutes since I had looked at Finn, so I needed a hitandsome reassurance. With all my usual elegance and grace, I spun my chair to go and check and came face to face with his crotch.
“We’re still on for lunch, right?” he deadpanned, smiling down at me, pursing his lips, and not moving an inch.
I replied, as emotionlessly as possible, “Yes…yes, we are,” while blinking uncontrollably, looking at my non-existent watch, my feet, anywhere other than straight ahead. “Do you need me to help you with something?”
“What? Right now?” he whispered, covering his man bits with his hands and bending down to face level. “Scarlett, not here.”
Half-wishing I could, I looked up to his eyes, full of endearing cheekiness and mischief, and slapped him on the leg. “For lunch. Do you need me to help you with anything for lunch?”
“Oh, lunch. No, everything is taken care of. As the note said, all you need to bring is your ass, coat, and appetite.” With a precious wink, he wandered back to his desk, spinning in his chair with a mile-wide grin. It was then I realized that, at some point during our highly inappropriate interaction, Jason had escaped his enclave and was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it!” I slapped my hands on my desk and turned to Finn, who shrugged, shook his head, and walked back toward me.
