Page 121 of Ruled By Rivalry

“Doesn’t happen often, does it?” he asked gently. Whispered, almost, like he knew we were having a moment and just wasn’t sure what kind. Me neither, but I liked it anyway.

“What? No, I mean—” My brows furrowed. “People tell me I’m good at things. The word they frequently use is perfect.”

“Must’ve kept you humble all these years,” he teased. “Not the same, though. Being perfect seems more like an expectation, not a reminder that you’re good at things.”

“Okay, well, maybe. But . . . I mean, it feels good. It’s a compliment.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He pushed a strand behind my ear. At this point, whatever updo I’d left the house with must’ve been a mess, so I didn’t care. “Doesn’t mean it’s not stressing you out either way.”

I waved him off. “I’m always stressed.”

“I know.” You’re proving my point, his raised brows added. “I’m just saying, maybe we should work on that. You don’t need to be perfect all the time. You can leave a sock on your bedroom floor.”

I gasped. His lazy smile widened.

“You don’t have to make your bed every morning.”

“May I still go on my morning run?”

“If you’re not doing it just because it’s part of your routine and people expect you to go running every morning.” His grin turned toothy. Sweet. Irresistible. “And if I’m allowed to join. Sure.”

“And what do you suppose I do with all this time when I’m leaving socks around, not making my bed, and, God forbid, skipping my runs?”

He took the bait, pressed me against the wall until his hand was firmly beside my head, his lips so close I could feel his breath. “I’m sure we can think of . . . other forms of cardio, no?”

“We are creative people.”

“And if that doesn’t work . . .” Elliot shrugged, planted a kiss on my lips. “You can always help me find a job.”

Chapter 47

“I saw a babysitter ad on a lamppost the other day.”

“We’re looking for a new kitman.”

“What about bouncer?” I added, sheepish smile on my lips.

Both Paula’s and Henry’s suggestions were so far from anything Elliot would ever dream of doing; it was almost funny to watch him nod thoughtfully like he was actually considering any of our options.

“Yeah, maybe.” I could tell he was nervous, but I couldn’t tell why. He’d met Paula before, but—his words, not mine—that didn’t count. Because he could barely introduce himself before he’d dragged me into that supply closet, and I hadn’t been particularly thrilled to force them to hang out after having just told Paula how awful of a person he was.

So, Elliot had decided to pretend that night never happened. He’d formerly invited both of them over for dinner during what would be our last weekend in the intern apartment. A very bad idea, in hindsight. All my stuff was already in boxes, ready to be moved to my new place, courtesy of the full-time position that had made it onto my desk last week.

No fanfare, just a sealed envelope with my name on it, suspiciously sitting in Camila’s office after hours. Inside, the job offer of my dreams with a salary high enough for one of the most expensive cities in the world. Not a lot of time off and limited sick days, but there was an insurance plan I could add my grandparents to.

“Now all you need is an apartment.” There was a judgmental note in my tone because he’d had weeks to find one and had no problem helping me with my search. When it came to his living situation, I was worried Elliot might have to move back in with his mom.

Sitting on a chair Henry had dragged onto our fire escape, Paula gasped. The way she always did when she had a great idea—or, I guess, thought she did. One look at Henry standing beside her, holding on to the back of her chair, and he knew. He shook his head before she could even say, “Henry’s gone for games soon. You can take his apartment.”

I kind of liked how my best friend and boyfriend were both trying their very hardest to impress each other. We were entering ass-kissing territory never before explored, and they were so obvious about it, it was painful to watch.

“Just one problem.” Henry threw us a look. First me, sitting opposite them on the ladder, then Elliot, standing beside it. At last, the way he glanced at Paula meant that they’d clearly discussed this before. He said it that same way, too. “You’re taking that apartment, Charm.”

She narrowed her eyes across her shoulder, which confirmed that they really had had this conversation before. Multiple times. Paula was simply too stubborn.

“Elliot’s an awful roommate,” I said, laughing. “Don’t do it, Paula.”

“Hey!”