Chapter 12 #3
“Well, you call me babe in front of people, so I should be able to call you something.”
“Okay, what do you want to call me that’s not Potato?”
I give it a second to think of something good, something rich and hilarious, but only one thing comes to mind for some stupid-ass reason.
“I’m going to call you fart face.”
“Over my dead body,” he roars.
“It’s a term of endearment,” I defend even though I’m chuckling.
“How is calling someone a flatulent gas cloud a term of endearment?”
“Because I wouldn’t dare call other people that. And I think it suits you. When you’re grumpy, you always look like you have a fart stuck in you. Therefore, you’re fart face.”
“Can you grow up like a few years?”
“Would you rather be called something like . . . penis breath?”
“Something is seriously wrong with you.” He shakes his head. “You can call me Silas or babe. Those are your options.”
“Ew, I wouldn’t call you babe. That feels weird to me. I like it when guys call me that, but I can’t do it in return.”
“Then Silas it is.”
“But that’s so boring,” I grumble. “How about . . .”
“Silas.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“And I swear to God, Ollie, if you slip up when we’re out together, and you just happen to call me fart face, I’m going to murder you.”
“You don’t give me enough credit. If I slipped up and called you anything, it would be donkey pervert. God, Silas, get it right.”
* * *
“So don’t you have questions for me?” Silas asks.
“More like . . . a conversation to have,” I say.
“What kind of conversation?”
“About hockey of course. You know, since I know nothing about it. I had some guy at work come up to me and ask if I could get your autograph. I told him to fuck off. I clearly wasn’t going to bother you with such menial things.
When he left, I couldn’t stop laughing at the fact that people want your autograph. ”
“Why is that funny?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe because I don’t see you as this big hockey star. I just know you as the guy I kissed in a bar who then became my fake boyfriend.”
“Well, maybe you need to see me on the ice to change that mindset.”
“Are you inviting me to a game?”
“As my pretend girlfriend, it will be a requirement to show up.” He drapes his arm over the back of the couch.
“Ew, will I have to wear one of those jumbo jerseys that looks ill-fitted on everyone?”
“Love the enthusiasm, and no.”
“Thank God for small miracles.”
He rolls his eyes. “What do you need to know? Let’s get this conversation about your favorite sport over with.”
“Well, first, I need to talk to you about something, and I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
“Why would I get mad?”
“You’ll see, but promise, okay?”
He studies me for a moment and says, “Okay.”
“So . . . when Roberts found out I was dating you, he became quite invested in our relationship. So much so that he pulled me into his office to talk.”
“Does he want free tickets or something? The man is rich. Can’t he afford them himself?”
“No, that wasn’t it. I actually found out that he has a vendetta against your owner.
Apparently, Roberts was trying to buy the Agitators, and something fell through.
Anyway, he hates your owner and now wants me to use my final assignment as an intern for his company as some sort of exposé to bring down the Agitators brand. ”
I hold my breath as his brows draw down. “So he wants you to use me, then?”
“Yes,” I say, then quickly add, “but I’m not going to.”
He looks away and pulls on the back of his neck. I can see the visible change in his demeanor. Once relaxed in his own home, he’s now stiff and defensive. “Did you tell him no?”
I wince. “Um, not at the moment that he asked.”
“So after.”
I fidget. “Not really, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”
“That means you plan to exploit me,” Silas yells, startling me back.
“Silas, I would never do that to you. That’s why I’m here, talking to you about it.”
“So I can feel bad that you need a story and just give you permission to pass your assignment? Get the fuck out of here, Ollie.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I say, standing up for myself. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you about it and be honest.”
“Honest about your intentions of fucking me over?”
“What? No. Why the hell would I do that?”
“I don’t know, Ollie. Why wouldn’t you tell Roberts no?”
“Because . . .” I stumble, trying to find the right words. “I just thought at that moment that I could think of a better solution. He’s my boss, Silas. This internship, it matters to me.”
“I understand that, but you’re never going to get anywhere without integrity.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to write the article.
Jesus.” I stand from the couch. “I came here hoping you could help me think of a different angle. But I guess I was wrong.” I move toward his front door and slip my shoes on.
He remains seated. “You know, Silas, you can sit there and judge me all you want, but you’re not fucking perfect either. ”
“I never said I was.”
“You act like it. You can’t tell me that in my position, you would have told your boss no.”
“I would have told him to fuck off.”
“Bullshit.” I laugh sardonically. “You couldn’t even tell Sarah to fuck off when you saw her at the event.
No, you practically ate her with your eyes.
You tell me you don’t care about her anymore, but I don’t believe it for one second.
So don’t go throwing stones in glass houses.
You tell me to stand up for myself, for what’s right.
Well, where the fuck are you when it comes to Sarah? ”
“That’s different,” he says.
“No, it’s not.”
“The fuck it is.” He stands from the couch now. “I was going to fucking propose to her. Of course there will be feelings. I can’t just shut it off.”
“Yeah, well, Roberts holds my future in his hands, and I can’t just turn off my goals and desires to make something of myself.
Out of everyone, you should understand that.
” I slip my backpack on and head toward the door.
I glance over my shoulder one last time to see if he’s going to say something or stop me, but he doesn’t, so .
. . I leave and go right to the elevator, where I press the down button.
My lips tremble, and my throat tightens as I hold back my tears. I will not cry.
Not over something as stupid as this.
Silas was being an ass, and that’s on him. I was coming here to find a solution, and he wouldn’t even listen.
That’s no reason to cry or get emotional.
It just means . . . I don’t need him.