A scowl breaks across my face at the thought of Alex going to some other girl’s costume party on my birthday. Then I scowl even harder, because why am I so worked up about this? Wasn’t I just making internal arguments against getting worked up about this?
Casey: you should hire Benny to coordinate ur calendar. Maybe then you’d have a day off once every few months
Alex: I miss you too, simba
A scoff lurches out of me. I didn’t … That’s not what I—
Ugh!
I eat an embarrassed, petulant lunch, followed by an elevator ride to thirty-seven, because of course it’s a Wednesday and the BTH all-hands meeting is today. When Alex sees me sweep past him in the conference room, he winks at me. I shove down my weird feelings and try to focus on work for the next hour. But every time I look up, I catch him watching me with carefully concealed amusement, like he knows he got under my skin and considers it a notable achievement.
Well, screw him, and screw that girl. I hope her party theme is silly, and I hope Alex feels absolutely ridiculous.
Halfway through the meeting, Gus slides a single pink Starburst over to me, like a secret, and says nothing. Five minutes later, I watch him slide a yellow one to Amanda, just as secretly.
He’s so weird. And fiscally irresponsible.
Oddly, the taste of the Starburst on my tongue makes me feel calmer.
After the meeting, I make a beeline for the elevator. Alex is either heading up to my floor for a genuine reason or just wants to work me up a little more, because he sticks an arm in between the closing doors and follows me inside.
His eyes flick up and down and his voice drops lower, more weighted than how he talked in front of the others. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Why would you assume something’s wrong?”
He presses his lips together and steps closer. “Heart. Sleeve. We’ve been through this.”
I take a steadying breath and fight back tears that have no business breaching my ducts right now. My mind is working overtime, doing that thing where it rationalizes for me. The thought I had in Alex’s bedroom comes again, more insistent this time: End. This. Now.
Obviously, I wasn’t clearheaded when I suggested he and I could have something casual. Nothing about my personality is casual. I’m the type of girl who visits the dentist every six months without fail, who makes pros and cons lists for each travel points credit card before she ever goes anywhere, who will never sleep with her makeup on no matter how drunk. I will figure out why the balance sheet is off by one dollar and eighty-three cents if it’s the last thing I do. And the people I care about—I do not casually care about.
I have to end things with Alex before it hurts even worse. If we cut this off now, there’s no harm done, and the only thing I’ll lose is a tiny bit of my sanity between two and four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon.
“I think we should call an audible,” I blurt. “You’re busy, and I’m busy, and this is honestly getting to be more trouble than it’s worth.”
The ghost of something acerbic and bitter crosses Alex’s face. He breathes a tiny laugh out of his nose and mutters at the ceiling, “Clockwork.”
“What?”
His hands pass over his forehead. “Nothing.”
We’re nearly to the top of the beanstalk, and I feel the elevator slow to a halt. “Have fun this weekend,” I force out. “At the party.”
Alex shifts, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor. “Am I not … uninvited?”
I turn, catching the tense roll of his jaw. He looks confused and … hurt.
“Wait, you were … You were talking about my birthday?”
Alex searches my face like he’s trying to decide whether I’m lucid. “Yes.” He takes another step forward. “Did you think I meant someone else?”
“Yes!” My voice is semi-hysterical. “I’m not having a themed birthday party. I’m not having a birthday party at all.”
We both get there about two and a half seconds later.
“Fuck,” Alex grumbles. “I’m going to kill Brijesh.”
“Miriam is going to kill you, and I’m going to kill her. I hate surprises. Those are for people with chill personalities only.”
The doors open. I walk toward Benny’s deserted desk. Warmth stains my cheeks as I replay the way I acted over the past hour.
I am a mortifyingly emotional person.
Alex’s fingertips graze my forearm, and I turn to face him. “Do you want me to come? Or did you really mean that you … you think this is more trouble than it’s worth?”
It sounds terrible, hearing those same words back. I can’t believe I said them.
I tug on my braid. “No, I didn’t mean it, and of course I want you to come. I’m sorry for saying that. I was just feeling—”
“Jealous.”
My eyes flick up to his. He looks down, daring me to contradict him, but I don’t have the energy for it. Alex lifts his hand and rubs his fingers against a runaway lock of my hair. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “I get jealous, too.”
I shake my head in disbelief even though his admission thrills me. “Alex, I haven’t given you any reason to be jealous.”
“I know you haven’t. I still find plenty.” He smiles softly, an apology, like it’s something he’s working on. “But for my part, Casey … you should know.” He steps closer, and all I see are dark lashes and hooded, caramel eyes. “For the time being, you’re it. When I’m with someone, I’m with them.”
His words pummel me to pieces just as much as they bind me back together. I don’t know how to process the emotions battling for dominance inside me.
For the time being, you’re it.
I want all of you until the day I don’t want any of you.
“What’s the theme?” I ask.
“I am obviously not going to tell you that.”
“Please?”
“I already might get murdered by your best friend for saying what I have so far.”
“Exactly. What’s the harm now?”
Alex walks backward, shaking his head. “No chance.”
He pushes the button for the elevator, and I gape. “Did you follow me up here?”
“Yes.” He arches an eyebrow. “You were trying to telepathically communicate with me in that meeting, but I haven’t learned all your faces yet, so I had to inquire in person. But now I’ve got jealousy down, so that’s progress.”
“Screw you,” I say, but the words lose their bite when I laugh.
He grins, rubs his jaw with a palm, and shakes his head at the floor. Quietly he says, more to himself than to me, “You really scared me for a second there.”
He’s gone before I can utter a word.
I walk toward the Hive in a daze, my inner chaos from the past few hours simmering down. Benny is leaning over Fari’s desk when I approach.
“Oh, Casey!” He straightens. “Perfect timing. Fari and I are scouring Amazon for costumes. Can you clarify—since it’s a murder mystery party but, like, only a few days before Halloween—are we supposed to be dead-looking seventies icons, or just seventies icons who happen to be dead?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE