CALLA
I’m not dealing with a typical man.
Beck is one of a kind, and I need to look at this from a different perspective.
But how?
Hell, I have no idea what I’m doing.
And now that he walks around half naked, I’m way out of my league here.
I let my mind think on it for another few minutes, but nothing comes up, so I grab my laptop.
I shouldn’t be thinking of Beck anyway. I should be looking for a new job. I would probably have one by now if I hadn’t been putting so much time and effort into this whole Beck thing.
I mean, if this whole sabotage thing works and I end up moving out, how will I even pay for my own place if I don’t have a job?Ha, ha, what place, Calla? You don’t have that either.
Clearly, I don’t need to worry because I’m not even good at sabotage.
I spend twenty minutes searching for a job but find nothing.
Beck likes doing dishes to clear his mind. What do I like to do that clears my mind? What’s something I like to do that I just enjoy without having to put much thought into it?
Organizing is the only thing I can think of.
Ooh!
I jump from the bed.
I’m going to reorganize his entire kitchen so he can’t find a single thing. The food was purely because his cabinets were a mess, but this—this could be good.
He’s closed off in his office right now, so this is as good a time as any. It’s like a win-win: I get to do something I enjoy and annoy him at the same time.
It’s genius.
I sneak upstairs and, cabinet by cabinet, plate by plate, bowl by bowl, macaroni box by macaroni box—I move every last thing this kitchen has to offer. I even move the steaks he clearly took out for dinner back to the freezer and throw the candles that still had tags on them and some lavender bubbles to a hidden drawer by the back door. Whoever he was planning to wine and dine tonight with those babies, well, surprise. Good luck to you on another night. Not only am I smiling at my handiwork a couple hours later, but I’m happily back in my room, snuggled in with a book.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
I whip the cover off my body and march to Beck’s office. I choose not to knock before I go inside because hell, he clearly doesn’t care about courtesy with my wall and his stupid ball, so why should I care about him in his office?
I swing the door open, and he turns, clearly startled. The ball bounces off the wall and hits him on the side of the head. Just like the last time.
Good.
I nod, satisfied with that small detail, and retreat to my room.
“Are you serious right now?” Beck growls and judging by the volume, he’s following me. “You can’t just come into my office like that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t.”
I pause in my doorway and spin around. My hand is in the air ready to poke him, but the small fact that he’s shirtless seems to have snuck by me while I was in his doorway.
