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“Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask Javi.”
Coach nods and scurries off.
Maybe my requests finally came through? Maybe I got a bonus I didn’t know about? Maybe there’s a chair fairy that somehow hasn’t gotten the same mainstream recognition the tooth fairy gets?
If the chair was delivered to my office by mistake, I should enjoy it until the person who was supposed to get it figures out the error and comes looking.
But who else in this building would want apinkoffice chair?
I give the chair another few seconds of suspicious eye contact before sitting again. Where I normally lower myself carefully, knowing any day now, the legs on my worn chair will give out, this one eagerly accepts my weight.
The chair is, in a word,glorious. If I could choose two words, it’sgloriousandheavenly. Truly. I can imagine a whole row of these chairs just beyond the pearly gates and streets of gold, extending as far as the eye can see.
My eyes flutter closed as I lean back, sinking into the soft leather that feels almost like a caress. In a non-creepy and non-sexual way of course. Just in a super luxurious office chair kind of way.
“I might be in love with you,” I whisper.
“Oh, really?”
At the sound of the very male and very familiar voice, my eyes fly open. And then, for reasons that must date back to prehistoric times and not logical, modern ones, I dive under my desk to hide.
“Sorry, Pete,” Logan says. “Didn’t realize you scared so easily.”
I uncurl myself from the protective ball my fight, flight, or curl up in the fetal position instincts sent me into, then peer over my desk, glaring at the smug face eyeing me.
“Barnes,” I growl, smoothing my black pants as I stand. “You can’t sneak up on me. We have a strict knocking policy.”
“I was walking by and couldn’t help but overhear. My question is—were you talking to me or the chair?” he asks.
“The chair. Definitely the chair.” Still glaring, I sink back into its cocooning softness. “Fancy Chair would never appear out of nowhere and scare me. Fancy Chair has some respect for boundaries.”
“Fancy Chair?” Logan asks. “You couldn’t think of a more creative name?”
“Maybe later. For now, Fancy Chair will do.”
Logan crosses his arms over his chest and gives me the tiniest smile. Though it’s small, it sure is smug. “I’m glad you like it.”
It takes my brain a minute to catch the meaning behind his words.
I immediately jump out of Fancy Chair. “Wait—this is fromyou?”
Logan shrugs, still with that same tiny smug smirk. Asmirg, if you will. Surely, he didn’t buy me a new office chair.
Wait—DID he buy me a new office chair?
“Yours was a death trap,” he says, as though this is a completely reasonable argument to make here.
He’s not wrong. But it doesn’t mean he can dothis.
“And I’m sorry, but I don’t want to see you maimed or worse by a subpar piece of furniture,” he says. “Accept the upgrade, Pete.”
“Nope.”
I start to roll Fancy Chair around my desk, shoving it toward Logan while silently shedding goodbye tears.
So long, Fancy Chair. We had it good for a while, didn’t we?
Logan reaches out, and with one big hand, stops the chair from moving forward. I lean into it but am no match for Logan’s strength.
