“Please don’t tell me you’re about to say sorry,” he cuts me off as I fumble around trying to right the American and New Hampshire State flags. “We both know you meant every word you said. I think we’re way past pretending for politeness’s sake.”
Apparently satisfied that I’m not crippled, he pivots and strides down the hall faster than a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby, his bag banging against his hip like the lash of a jockey’s whip.
I limp after him, feeling about as pathetic as a woman who’s humiliated herself in front of someone twice in one day can feel. I banged my leg so hard, I’m sure a bruise has already formed. It’s throbbing proof of today’s epic failure.
I catch up and grab his arm. “Look, I don’t know how much you heard, but I was just venting—”
He whips around. “I heardjerk-off,inbred,dick, andredneck. Did I miss any other clever nicknames?” He. Is.Pissed.
It’s so appalling to hear my laundry list of slurs rattled off that I’m momentarily stunned silent. This is the worst I’ve ever been called out, and that includes when my sorority sister and I got caught whispering during our anthropology final. I’d thought I was going to die of a heart attack under our teacher’s accusing stare, but I’d gladly return to that classroom if it meant escaping this fresh hell.
I decide to go on the offensive. I draw myself up to my full height—which, unfortunately, isn’t all that impressive, seeing as how the top of my head only comes up to about his shoulders. My AWOL heels would really help right about now.
“You were awful earlier and you felt bad. I just said some awful things and now I feel bad. Let’s just agree we both have things to be sorry for.” I’m determined to fix this. Southern etiquette runs deep.
“I don’t feel bad anymore.” He turns and resumes his furious march down the hall, heading toward the elevator, or stairs, or whichever way is away from me. I trail behind him a few paces. I can’t let it go.
“You’re the one who was a jerk to me for no reason. I was only reacting toyourbad behavior.”
“I just told you like it is. I didn’t attack you personally.”
“There’s telling it like it is, and there’s being an asshole.”
I mentally cringe at my cursing. My mom would not approve. Ohwell. She could hardly judge me for this. I’d like to think if she were here, she’d be cheering me on.
He glances back, steel in his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ve been insulted enough for one day.”
We finally reach the elevator and he stabs theDOWNbutton so violently, I’m surprised it doesn’t pop off. We stand in silence, but after racing to keep up with his long-legged stride, I’m struggling to catch my breath. He notices my bare feet and his entire face wrinkles in distaste.
“I hope I never get to be this way,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“And what way is that?”
“Completely jaded. You want to mock me for being idealistic, fine. Better that than cynical and miserable.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” His voice is glacial.
“On the contrary. I only needed two minutes to learn everything there is to know about you.”
“Is that so? Don’t keep me in suspense.” He hits theDOWNbutton repeatedly, as if jabbing it fifteen times will make the elevator arrive faster.
I bite my lip, hesitating. This is my last chance to take the off-ramp. I should apologize maturely, wish him well, and hope like hell that chatter about our confrontation doesn’t get around.
But here’s the thing: I’m not hard to get along with. I don’t cause drama, and I’m certainly not one for burning bridges. But as I stand here and take in his combative stance and restrained anger, I’m transported back to how I felt in his office earlier today. Degraded. Belittled. Dismissed. I recall his condescending expression when he asked if this was my first bill, and white-hot rage courses through my veins.
So I burn that bridge straight down to the ground and roll in the ashes.
“Well, you’re a Republican, so that tells me plenty about how you seethe world. You clearly don’t care about helping families or children who really need it. Why waste time on that when you can shower your wealthy buddies with huge tax breaks? Pat yourself on the back about your precious tax plan all you want, but we both know you’re just helping rich men get richer and businesses shirk their financial and ethical responsibilities. You’re also rude, patronizing, and unprofessional. Apologizing for your bad behavior would have at least redeemed your character slightly in my eyes, but so much for that. So overall, I’m gonna say you’re the perfect example of everything that’s wrong with this town.”
I stop, out of breath, and a little stunned I just said all that.
He looks stunned too. He stares at me, his mouth slightly agape. “Well.” He seems to be struggling to find words. “My bad behavior has nothing on yours.”
He takes a step toward me and I have to fight the urge to step back. I force myself to meet his gaze, but when I do, I’m struck by a lightning bolt.
His eyes are a vivid shade of green I’ve never seen before. I hardly know how to describe the hue—like a mix of emerald and jade, wax-leaf trees and mossy grass. They’re absolutely brilliant, practically glowing in their intensity. I start to step forward to get a closer look before I remember he’s the devil and rein myself in at the last second.
“Since you’ve nailed me exactly, why don’t I do you?” He cocks his head to the side, a sinister smile settling on his mouth. I hold my breath.
