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Every time I have to call over there for anything, he's the one who answers the phone. I swear, he does it on purpose just so he can argue with me about why I should go out with him!
When I tell him no, he gets cranky.
Have you ever tried to argue with a hot, cranky, relentless giant? Exactly! They have all the infinity stones. Which is precisely how I ended up admitting to him that I want him to keep asking me out. I didn't mean to do it!
He asked me if I wanted him to quit, and I meant to say yes. Ishouldhave said yes. He and I can't happen. But instead, my head and my heart went to war when he asked the question and common sense was not victorious. So I'm doing what any woman in my place would do. I'm avoiding him at all costs.
"What in the world is going on?" Camila asks, refusing to go away that easily. She plops down in my chair, lowering it as far as it'll go. "There. Now, I don't feel like I'm going to break my neck trying to see you under there." She blows a strand of hair out of her face. "Why are you hiding under your desk?"
"You didn't tell me Zayne was stopping by today," I hiss. Honestly, this is her fault. Had she warned a girl, I could have done what I've been doing for the last week and made an excuse to leave the office. Instead, he waltzed his fine butt through the door, and I skinned my knee while trying to avoid being seen.
A laugh burbles from Camila's lips. "You're hiding from Zayne?"
I poke my head out from under the desk to shoot a dirty glare up at her. "I'm not hiding."
I'm totally hiding. Zayne Carmichael is relentless and hot. I don't know what to do with either of those things! But, God, I wish I did. Every time I talk to him, he finds a way to be completely outrageous. No matter what's going on or how stressed I am, he makes me laugh. I love that so much.
"Really?" Camila makes her eyes big and looks pointedly at the small space I've managed to wedge myself into. "So whatcha doing under the desk then?"
"Looking for something I lost," I lie, patting around blindly.
"Like your mind?" She smirks at me. "Because you've definitely lost it if you think hiding under there is a better solution than talking to him, Emma."
"I can't talk to him."
"Why not?"
"Because he's hot."
"So are you."
I know I'm not ugly, but I'm not Zayne Carmichael, either. He's on Nashville's Most Eligible list, alongside every other bangable bachelor in the city. I'm a twenty-three-year-old virgin who can squeeze into a size twenty on a good day. We are not the same. I'm not even sure we're the same species, to be honest.
Zayne is intimidating. He knows exactly what he wants and goes for it. I still stutter my way through making my own appointments. He's a freaking former Marine. I barely managed to finish high school on time. His life is neat and orderly. Mine is chaos.
I spend my days chasing my eighty-year-old grandma and her twin sister. Trust me, it's harder than it sounds. They're like the geriatric version of Thelma and Louise, only I never know which of the two is responsible for talking the other into their bad ideas.
If they didn't have glaucoma, they'd watch the world burn. And if they didn't have arthritis, they'd probably dance before the flames.
As soon as the thrill of the chase wears off and Zayne realizes that our worlds are nothing alike, he'll get bored and move on to someone more his speed. That isn't me, even though a big part of me wishes it were.
The truth is…I love how relentlessly he chases me and how over-the-top he is about it. For the first time in my life, I feel like someone worthy of being pursued. He makes me feel that way.
Sometimes, I even let myself dream of what it'd be like to let him catch me. But I always wake up alone in my bed again, facing the realization that some dreams just aren't meant to be. Gran and Bets are my family, my responsibility, and it'd break my heart to fall for Zayne only for him to decide he's not ready to spend the best years of his life chasing after two crazy eighty-year-olds. And I wouldn't blame him for that. He has a business to run and his own life to live. Just because I chose this life doesn't mean I get to choose it for anyone else.
Refusing to date him is easier than getting my heart involved in something I know it won't survive. It's better for everyone to leave my heart out of the equation altogether. It can't be trusted if it's anything like my mom's, anyway.
I can't tell Camila that, though. She's one of the bravest people I know, willing to take big risks to mold her life into exactly what she wants. I don't think she'd understand why I'd rather never leave the ground than touch the sky and then have to give it up.
"We just aren't compatible," I say.
"Says who?"
"The universe." I snort, causing a piece of my hair to fly upward. "He has a company to run. I have Gran and Bets to worry about."
"You're worried he'll bail once he realizes you guys are a package deal," she says gently, immediately grasping what I don't voice.
"I just don't think my life is relationship-compatible. That's all."
