I grip my fingers tightly together and sweat pools under my armpits. "One million," I say under my breath.
He holds a hand behind his ear, "What was that?"
"One million for all six days." I draw myself up to my full height. "Take it or leave it."
"Well then," he yawns, "you'd better get going."
"Oh." I stare at him. Disappointment and something else, a strange sensation like I had missed the one thing that could have changed my life completely, twists my insides. I open my mouth to speak, and he lifts an eyebrow.
"Never mind." I shove my hair back from my face, hitch my backpack over my shoulder. "Goodbye." I brush past him and head for the doorway.
"One million pounds." His voice follows me.
I don't stop.
"Per day."
"What?" I stumble, then right myself. "What did you say?"
His lips twist, "Exactly what you heard."
I pivot to face him, "One million pounds per day, for six days?" I blink, then pull on my earlobe.
His grin widens. "Good." He closes the distance between us, "See you at six pm."
"Hold on. What the hell? I didn’t agree to—"
"Sure, you did," he replies.
"No, I didn’t."
"You tugged on your earlobe," he points out.
"What?"
"You do that when you’ve inwardly come to a decision."
"I… I do?"
"Yep." He smirks down at me, "You’re too easy to read, Flower."
"Just because I quoted from Wordsworth, once..."
"It’s also your eyes."
"What?"
"They’re green like the new shoots that come up from the ground in early spring."
"Wow," I breathe, "who’d have thought an obnoxious d-bag like you could be romantic."
"Don’t let my words fool you." He half turns, then shoves his hands inside his pockets.
"Your biggest hit was a love song."
He winces, "It was a rock ballad."
"One with some sexy, angsty verses that had everyone going gaga over it."