The Dating Experiment (Better With You #2) - Briar Prescott Page 0,1
my face as I make my way toward the door that separates my desk from my boss’s office.
It’s our morning ritual. He calls my name the moment I set foot inside the office. I still haven’t figured out if he actually hears I’ve arrived or if he calls me because it’s eight o’clock on the dot. If I were late, would he yell my name until I arrived? One of these days I’ll conduct an experiment, and by God, I will find out the truth. The public deserves to know.
I stop just outside the doorway and wait until I hear a displeased sigh, and then I mouth “James” along with Connor as he calls my name once more before I step into his office. It’s the little things that get me through the day.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I say, as I go and take a seat in one of the leather chairs opposite Connor’s desk.
He leans back in his office chair, cocks his head to the side, and just stares at me.
I force an easygoing smile on my face as I quickly go over my appearance in my head, trying to figure out what might be wrong with it. I don’t think there are any noticeable wrinkles in my shirt, although Connor has been known to detect even the ones that are invisible to the human eye.
My dress pants are new, and I chose a very inoffensive dark gray color, so I’m pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with them. God knows we don’t want to repeat the turquoise skinny jeans debacle of my first week here.
It might be my hair, because unless I squirt a gallon of hair gel in it, it’s just naturally messy. But it’s been that way ever since I started working here three years ago, so unless Connor has just noticed the fact that I don’t sport a neat Anderson Cooper–worthy do on my head, that shouldn’t be it.
“Sloths have algae grow in their fur,” he says.
It seems we’ve reached the point where insanity has kicked in. That’s what you get for being an intolerable workaholic.
I’m not sure what the right protocol is if your boss seems to have gone off his rocker. Humor him? Laugh? Ignore and hope it’ll pass? The 911 call will be interesting.
Yeah, hi. There’s something wrong with my boss. He’s spouting animal-related trivia instead of making sarcastic remarks. Send help ASAP.
“Huh,” I say slowly. “Interesting tidbit. I read something about how trained pigeons can tell the difference between the paintings of… I want to say Picasso and Monet. Or Manet? Either one or the other.”
“Thank you for that vaguely factual tidbit,” Connor says dryly. “I was trying to see if there’s a green hue that’d indicate you’ve finally gotten to the point in your endeavor to be slow that you have other organisms declaring your body a nice territory to inhabit.”
Never mind, dear people of 911. He’s back.
I salute him. “I’ll make sure to report back to you as soon as I notice anything out of the ordinary growing on me.”
“Please do. I’m obviously very invested in the outcome of your personal journey to become the slowest man in the world.”
I tap my index finger against my chin. “I’ve always wanted to be a record holder, but the unfortunate shortness of my legs has put a swift stop to my dreams of challenging Usain Bolt in a race. The opposite seems like an achievable goal, though.”
He stares at me for a moment longer, until I sigh and ask, “What now?”
“Nothing. Just imagining what it would be like to have an assistant that could move as fast as Usain Bolt. Do you think he types as fast as he runs? It’d be a dream come true.”
I press my palm to my heart and feign shock. “You have dreams other than taking over the world and banning laughter and fun for everybody? How exciting.”
“Every now and then a new one pops up.” There’s a minuscule twinkle in his eyes, and I’m almost certain I can see the barest hint of a smile, but then he seems to catch himself and erases all that progress instantly.
A second later, he taps his collar. “Forgot something?”
I grin and shake my head. “Nope. Also, kudos. You let the false sense of security kick in before you attacked me with the dress code. Very sneaky.”
“It takes a lot of imagination to consider me pointing out your blatant disregard of our dress code an attack,” he says.