Don't Look Down

ten: don't act like you know me

I spend my shortened work day at my cubicle reading my latest manuscript. The author, Heath Briggs, has published six bestsellers with us already, but this is his first attempt at the True-Crime genre. It's four-hundred-seventy-three pages needing my constructive criticism, and since this genre isn't my forte, I struggle.

By the time noon rolls around, I've only reached chapter four. It's a snoozer and, at this point, I'm unsure how to improve upon its monotonous context.

My head is heavy as I unlock the apartment and come to terms with the fact it's only early afternoon. I have hours of reading in my future and not a single one will be paid for. Bitterness burns my throat.

Opening the door, I find Marsha and Seth sitting on the couch. They're playing Jenga, and I feel three things simultaneously: relief that neither my best friend nor my roommate are naked, grateful my couch doesn't need deep cleaning to remove bodily fluids, and hysterical over adults playing a child's game.

They both glance up from the coffee table at my laughter and, unfortunately, Seth's next words rip me from my brief comic relief back to someplace dark. "There's my editorial assistant. How was your work day?"

He's sporting a satisfied smirk at the information he's acquired. I want to staple it shut.

"Marsha!"

All thoughts of work dissipate as rage swoops in. My leverage toward figuring Seth out is now stripped. I have no idea what Marsha's told him, and I'm not sure I want to. Seven years is a lot of history and some of those years contain my not-so-finest moments.

"What?" She throws her hands into the air. "How was I supposed to know you two were playing some weird game of secret identity with one another?"

"Well, how do you know we are now?"

"Seth might have told me after I answered all his questions about you." She scowls at him, which he answers with a grin. "Nice going, shithead." Turning back to me, she asks, "What's the big deal anyway?"

I slam my purse onto the side table. "The deal is now I'll never know who this asshole is."

Seth chuckles. "Is this a permanent nickname? I just want to know if I need to get a nametag made."

I glare at him, but Marsha ignores him completely. "Not true."

"Oh really?" I raise a brow. "Has he given you one good story about his life?"

"Well." She fumbles with the bottom of her t-shirt, her voice low. "No."

"My point exactly."

Marsha turns her gaze on Seth. "You're a slippery motherfucker."

"Thank you." The prick is still smiling over his manipulative success as he lifts from the couch and heads to the kitchen.

As he pulls a water bottle from the fridge and takes a long swig, Marsha says, "But don't worry. It's his turn now."

Seth stops drinking and his smile slips. The bottle lowers to the island when I ask, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Seth and I have six hours before we head into work, which leaves us plenty of time for a game."

I'm still not grasping how a game can settle this situation, but I play into her idea. Simply to hear what she intends. "What game?"

She stands and throws her hands onto her hips. "Never Have I Ever."

"Not happening." Apparently Seth's found his voice again.

I agree with him, only because I have a manuscript requiring my attention. I'd spent my entire weekend worrying about my roommate. I can't waste today doing the same.

"I can't. I need to read this manuscript for Clive, and besides, it's one in the afternoon."

"Oh c'mon, Ellie." Marsha pouts, hands still on her hips. "They screwed you over, so why are you going to bust your ass for them some more?"

Seth shrugs. "She has a point."

I glare at him and try to swing him back to my side. "You really want to play this game?" Two seconds ago he'd shut the idea down.

"Hell no. I'm just admitting the girl has a point. Why work the overtime anymore if you're not being paid for it?"

"Because I'm an adult." I'm being attacked on all sides and for what? For acting responsible so I don't lose my job? How ridiculous of me.

"No, you're a pushover," he says, stepping around the island so he's right in front of me. His eyes are intense, boring into mine, but I don't back away. "Stop letting them walk all over you."

Seriously? He thinks he can come in here with his mysterious past, lack of moral fiber, and assess my life? Oh, heck no.

I inch further into his space. "First off, you know nothing about me. Not really. I don't care what Marsh told you and what you think you've learned over the past two days." Seth lifts his hands in surrender before I curl my lips into a leer. "And second, if I'm playing, so are you."

I have a ton of work, but it's about time I learned about my new roomie. If my business is out for him to know, his business will be, too.

He shakes his head. "I said it's not happening."

"C'mon, Seth." I inch even closer and press my finger into his chest. "You said you wanted to lighten me up. Now's your chance."

Marsha claps her hands in the background. "That's my bitch." But my eyes remain focused on Seth's.

I'm in his space, my breath mingling with his. I can almost taste him. He studies me, his gaze working over my face, searching for something. When it appears he's settled on it, he backs away. "Do you have any scotch?"

"Do I look like a forty-year old man?"

"Today no, but yesterday morning-" He lifts his right hand between us and pivots it back and forth, raising the pitch of his voice. "Eh."

I ignore his jab because I'm in the zone. All bets are off and I'm ready to know Seth Carter.

"Beggars can't be choosers." I inch back toward him. "You drink whatever we have under the sink."

This time, he brings his face forward to meet mine, the green fire dancing in his eyes threatening to burn. I lick my lips. The roles are reversed and he's challenging me now, but I don't pull back. Not even when he whispers, "Fine, I'll play. But only because I like it when you have a little bark to your bite."

"Excellent. Let the drinking begin," Marsha squeals. Neither Seth nor I back away, but he smirks. It's something wicked that hits between my thighs. Only then do I step away.