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To everyone with the power of the ick. Listen to your gut: it’s always right.
She’s tapping the toe of her black, patent leather heels and glaring at me.
don't tap your last season prada shoes at me, honey
I have a sixth sense.” “A sixth sense?” “My friends call it my ick factor.
“I meet people and most of the time, I just know if they’re good or bad.”
I’ll be your fake fiancée,”
“Hey, hubby,”
At best, he’s your frenemy.”
“Frenemy?”
“God, you’re ...
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“My mother would have murdered me if she found out I was picking a woman up and making her walk to my car.”
I thought you said you have some magical power of ick?”
“I can find the clit,”
“Can you now?”
“God, you are way too much fun to fuck with, you know that?”
She’s gorgeous, kind, too fucking smart. A man who wanted that, who wasn’t hyperfocused on work and business, he’d go insane to make her his.
She’s the only one you ever let give you shit.”
He walks around the car, opening my door for me.
“Roast me?”
“Oh, for sure. It’s fully my job to tell her about all of the dumb, embarrassing things you did when we were kids. She needs to know what she’s getting herself into.”
“She’s great. The kindest person I know.”
“I’m happy for you. I was worried you’d never settle down, never find someone.”
Go spend my money on pretty clothes.”
I open it up and grab my personal credit card, putting it in her hand and curling her small fingers around the black plastic.
Make it hurt, kitten.”
Good. Make it hurt.
“Here you go, honey,”
I put a hand flat on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath my palm before I move to my tiptoes because the man is unbearably tall even in these heels, and I press my lips to his.
I feel how my body melts a bit, comfort and bliss and something akin to coming home after a long day flowing through me.
“My office. Now,”
“What was that?”
“Staking my territory.”
“So, you’re not fucking him? You’re just platonically pretending you’re engaged? No funny business at all?”
I’m totally fine—cue high-pitched David Schwimmer, I’m fine!
“What happens if I don’t?”
“What happens if I start to like him and I don’t eventually get the ick?”
“Didn’t you say when he dropped you off, he was all thrown back by your shitty apartment?”
“But then two days later, there’s someone in your building, fixing the elevator that hasn’t worked in the three years you’ve lived there?”
“And they made sure the codebox works, so not just anyone can get in?”
“And the burnt-out lights in the hallways were all fixed?
And they finally put someone at that desk all day?”
“Someone probably complained. Or maybe the city came and they failed inspection. I don’t know.
“Or maybe your boss dropped you off at your apartment and didn’t like how unsafe your place was, so he called someone.
“He’s not grumpy. He’s just . . .” I pause because he is absolutely grumpy,
We’re out of the coffee she likes? I’ll send her to the shop down the road or, better yet, go myself.
A client is giving her a hard time? We’ll cancel the contract.
Her landlord raised her rent? I’ll buy the building.
“Why are my student loans paid in full?”
“Oh.”
“You can’t pay for my student loans.”
“Well, I already did, so . . .”
