1. Lexi
1
LEXI
T here was something extremely demoralizing about running in the morning. I’d go home, but I was down to two work outfits I could reliably fit in, three if I didn’t eat lunch.
The sweat froze in my snarled hair, my lungs were about to collapse, and my legs were threatening to give out. I’d been trudging down this path for what felt like an eternity, but really it had only been about thirty seconds, because based on past experience, that was the longest I was able to keep this pace without passing out.
“Look on the bright side. At least you’re able to run,” I reminded myself.
A woman who didn’t look a day older than seventy-five jogged past me, pushing a little toy Maltese in a dog stroller.
“Keep up the good work,” I wheezed.
She reacted like I was about to mug her.
“You’re an inspiration!” I added as she fumbled in her pocket for pepper spray.
“Leave my dog alone!” she shrieked.
I was undeterred. Manhattan was nothing like Florida—no sunshine, no lazy beach days, and no nice people. Everyone was grumpy. Except yours truly!
A man in bright-orange work clothes was emptying the trash.
“Thank you for your dedication to keeping the park clean!” I called out.
He muttered something that sounded like “Why can’t the city clean out all these crazy people” and ignored me.
“Your beard looks nice. Really accentuates your cheekbones.” I flashed him a thumbs-up.
“Lady, I don’t have any cash on me.”
“Compliments are free!” I chirped out.
I believed that you must be the change you want to see in the world. A random act of kindness could go a long way to making Manhattan a better place.
I slowed to a walk. Well, a limp. The most exercise I got on a normal basis was watching Henry Cavill’s Instagram workout vids.
When I moved to New York to start my glamorous life in the big city, everyone said that with all the walking, the pounds would just melt off. In anticipation, I had bought new clothes that were, let’s say, an aspirational size. However, no one said that the food would be amazing, or that there was so much of it. Everywhere. On every corner. Don’t tell Walt, but the food in Manhattan might even be better than the food at Disney World.
Yes, Florida girl here and unashamed Disney adult. It is the happiest place on Earth, after all.
I made sure my Minnie Mouse ears were still attached to my frizzy red hair. Did I look weird? Maybe, but if the sight brightened someone’s day, then wasn’t it worth it?
I waved to a homeless guy sitting on a bench.
“I like your pigeon’s sweater,” I called cheerfully. “Did you knit that yourself?”
“I did,” he said happily. “Thank you!”
I beamed.
See? Compliments make the world a better place.
“When you go back with all the other rat people in the sewer,” the guy continued, dropping his voice conspiratorially, “can you tell them to chew through the cables coming out of the UN? The messages to the aliens they’re sending out are messing with the airwaves, and I can’t get a good signal on the sports station.” He tapped the piece of wire duct-taped to his cheek.
“Will do!” I sang out and skipped off. Well, stumbled off. I had a megacramp in my leg.
“Just think happy, positive thoughts,” I told myself. “You get a sticker if you can run for fifteen minutes.” I had bought specialty stickers at a store that—get this—only sold stickers! Manhattan was awesome! We didn’t have anything like a specialty sticker store in my small Florida town.
“Thirty seconds down and fourteen and a half minutes to go,” I pep-talked myself. “You can do it. You got this.”
I took off at an ineffective sprint. Last night McKenna and I had watched YouTube videos on running while eating frozen pizza. I wasn’t an expert by any means, but based on what I’d learned from the videos, my form was atrocious.
“It’s the thought that counts. A sticker for effort,” I huffed out, my breath a hazy cloud in front of me. My keys and phone, gripped in my hand, jingled as I ran.
Ahead of me, coming down a path that intersected mine at a diagonal, was a man who had perfect running form. Well, he had a perfect everything form—tall, broad shoulders, handsome face partially in shadow from his black hood, long muscular legs like springs propelling him forward—and he ran like an Olympian, body in perfect sync. The muscles under the tight workout jacket flexed as his torso twisted.
I swooned.
Then I sucked in a breath.
“Looking good, hot stuff!” I yelled out the compliment.
The man broke stride, and his head snapped toward me.
I flashed him a thumbs-up as I passed him and kept up my trudging pace.
“You. Can’t. Afford. New. Clothes,” I gasped out in time to my heavy footfalls.
Gravel crunched behind me. I moved aside to let whoever was behind me pass.
Instead a large hand grabbed the back of my sparkly green Tinker Bell jacket complete with fairy wings.
I yelped in surprise as the man I’d just passed spun me around to face him.
“Are you out of your mind?” His deep voice—rich, dark, baritone—rang out in the cold air.
I smiled up at him gamely. “Do you like this jacket? Bought it in a pop-up shop outside of Cinderella’s castle. It’s kind of expensive but worth it, if I do say so myself.”
The man’s face was in shadow, but I could see enough of his downturned mouth to know he was not amused.
“You are completely crazy.”
“Anyone out here running at cold-o’clock in the morning is crazy,” I joked.
“Look, lady, what you’re doing is dangerous. You can’t talk to strangers.” He pushed back the jacket hood to reveal dark-brown hair that fell rakishly over his forehead, piercing green eyes, and a strong jaw.
My eyes bugged out of my head. Oh no. No, no, no.
Don’t recognize me.
There are lots of people in this park. Just act normal. We’re being so totally normal.
I could feel my eyes flitting around in my head, trying to look anywhere except for at the guy who was my boss. Well, my boss’s boss’s boss. I was the assistant to the assistant to the secretary to Grayson Richmond.
The man who now stood here before me. All six foot five of him.
“Every stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet.”
Surely he didn’t recognize me, right? All those billionaires were so far up their own behind that they didn’t even know they had assistants.
I reached up to fuss with my Minnie Mouse ears, hoping that I looked disheveled enough that Mr. Richmond wouldn’t put two and two together and realize he’d seen me around his office.
His lip curled up into a sneer.
“Did you just move to this city?”
“No,” I said defiantly. “I’ve been here four months.”
“Small-town girl,” he mocked, “na?ve, sheltered. You shouldn’t be out by yourself in the real world.”
“I’m an adult!” I shrieked.
“Who still believes in fairy tales and watches Disney movies.” He flicked one of the sparkly wings.
“Who doesn’t like Disney?” I shot back. “You insult the Mouse, I’m throwing hands.”
“So that explains why you’re waltzing around like some untouchable little princess, talking to strangers and feeding the local rat population.” A sneer on his perfect mouth.
“I’m doing good deeds. It’s telling that someone like you who just sits around all day in his fancy-pants penthouse and yells at his employees doesn’t see the power that positive affirmations have on society.”
When I was upset, angry, nervous, or scared, my voice got high-pitched—an unfortunate affliction which meant no one took me seriously at all. Now I was practically squeaking, I was so incensed.
Mr. Richmond’s eyes narrowed.
I babbled on, hoping he didn’t realize that I’d actually been in said penthouse.
“People need compliments; people need human interaction, and I have to set the example.”
“I don’t give a shit about any of that. You cannot talk to strangers,” he exploded.
“You’re not my mom. I’ll talk to whoever I want.”
“You can’t change the world with compliments and good deeds,” he snapped. “The only thing you’re going to do is get yourself hurt. You especially can’t compliment strange men. One will kidnap you, and no one will ever see you again.”
“News flash, sir , you’re the only person who’s come close to kidnapping me. Kidnapper!” I pointed at him.
He grabbed my wrist, his much larger hand now a vise.
I tugged my arm angrily.
My key ring, which was mostly composed of sparkly princess key chains, jangled noisily.
“I am not a kidnapper,” he snarled, his deep, gravelly voice like a fairy-tale hero’s. His eyes were dark, and his face was a mask of fury.
“Then let go of me.” I tugged as hard as I could, but his arm didn’t budge.
“Not until you promise me you’ll stop talking to strange men.”
His eyes flicked down to my wrist, then back to my face, then back to my wrist.
“Wait …”
He twisted my arm. The key ring clanged.
Crap-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.
His gaze zeroed in on the key fob for Richmond Electric.
“Where did you get that?” he demanded.
“Found it. Was taking it back to the police precinct. You know, good-deed fairy here.” My voice sounded like I’d been huffing helium.
“Do you work for me?” he asked slowly.
“No …”
“You do. I think I recognize you.”
“Technically I work for your assistant.” I held up a finger. “Therefore, you need to apologize for yelling at me about talking to strange men. You’re not a stranger. You are perfectly safe—if a little sweaty and anxious. You should try eating some cheese.”
“So you knew who I was when you …” He faltered.
“Called you hot?” I gave him a pained smile.
“You catcalled me,” he said, horror slowly dawning on his unfairly symmetrical face.
I was indignant. “I most certainly did not.”
“I’m your boss.” He was incensed.
“Don’t act huffy. I’m the one who should be offended. I work for you, and you didn’t know who I was.” I jammed my finger in his muscular chest.
“Stop changing the subject.” He slapped my hand away.
“Stop falsely accusing people,” I retorted. “I wasn’t catcalling you. I said that you were looking good. I didn’t yell out, ‘Clap those cheeks’ or ‘Daddy, let me hit that.’ Now that’s a catcall.”
He sucked in a breath.
“I was complimenting your form,” I said, enunciating the words. “Your running form. But don’t worry, I take it back.”
“You can’t take it back.”
“I take back my compliment.” I did a pantomime of snatching something out of the air in front of his face.
“Fine, as long as you don’t catcall strangers anymore.” He wagged a finger in my face like he was scolding a child.
I batted at his hand.
“You’re not the boss of me.” I sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk.
“Yes, I literally am your boss.” His eyes were dark.
“You grouchy, depressing Manhattanites will not suppress my Florida sunshine,” I declared. “I will continue to bestow compliments. In fact, I’m giving you a new compliment right now.”
His lips thinned.
“You have a very lovely deep voice and nice eyes,” I said angrily. “Does anyone else here think he has beautiful eyes?”
Everyone in the park was studiously ignoring us.
“Well, you do. Beautiful green eyes. So there. And you’d look better if you smiled.”