Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I want to know more about him and I haven’t been getting much from the other employees here. They tell me the basic things, but no one really knows much about his personal life. Monica and Cesar have been the most informative out of everyone. One thing's for sure. What they say about him doesn’t match what I’ve experienced when it’s been him and me alone.
“Not that I’m aware of but I’m sure I’ve been called many different ones that I’m unaware of.”
“Yes, I believe there were a few names that they called you on that post this morning. They included dreamboat, sexy beast, and Captain America 2.0.”
“That’s creepy.” He reaches up, pulling at his tie and looking a bit uncomfortable.
“Does it bother you that you’ve been sexualized?”
“By random people it seems weird.” His answer perplexes me. He really was uncomfortable about that comment. He’d shut Monica down about them all quickly. He himself found them weird. Most people would be strutting around talking about how they could land chicks even while wearing the most ridiculous thing ever.
“You know, when you walked up to me in that restaurant I was a random person to you,” I point out. An almost aha moment plays across his face. It’s gone almost as quick as it showed up.
“That’s different,” he reasons.
“How is it different?” I roll my eyes, but I am dying to hear his reasoning.
“Because—” He pauses.
“Because?” I’m almost on the edge of my chair wanting him to answer.
“We’ll be married one day.” A bark of laughter comes from me. He doesn't laugh. He looks as serious as can be.
“Why don’t you marry one of your thousands of followers who commented on your pic from this morning?” I can even hear the jealousy in my own voice. I jump up from my chair. One that he moved halfway across the room because he’s nuts. I’m not sure if I’m mad at him or myself at this point.
“Did you comment?”
“No.” I throw my hands up in the air.
“Well then, that won’t work.”
“I can’t deal with you.” I turn, stomping out of his office. When I open the door people turn to look my way. I don’t go to my desk. Instead I hit the elevator and go up to the top floor to get some air. I keep telling myself he’s crazy, but I know he’s not.
Finn O'Hare is a brilliant man. He’s made a name for himself. He can’t be crazy. Still, none of this makes any sense. How is a man that has no history of dating that I can dig up keep coming on to me? There’s not even gossip or rumors about him being a flirt anywhere. Yet he keeps coming on to me. This sudden liking for pink was his latest attempt to get closer to me. Okay, I have to admit that it’s really kind of sweet.
I go for my notebook to look at my notes again. There are pages of them that I’ve been making about Finn. “Oh, crap.” I start hitting the down button over and over again. I left my notepad on the floor of his office. Now he’s going to think I’m the crazy one.
Chapter 11
Finn
Finn O’Hare. O Hare Finn F F F O H H A R E. I flip the page and see more of the same. It appears my girl is somewhat of a good learner and her current inspiration is my name. Ordinarily, I would view this as a sign of interest. But Lucky is confusing to me. Also, I don’t screw things up.
ME: You around
Rydell: Are you giving the foundation more money because if so, yes
I’m not but I call him anyway.
“How much of a check are you writing out?” He barks into the phone.
“That even a hello? I don’t get any foreplay? You just gonna go in dry?”
“You’re not going to give me any money, are you?” Rydell sighs.
“You know me so well. It’s almost as if we were childhood friends.”
“Sounds fake to me. I can’t imagine being friends with an asshole like you. What did you call for anyway?”
I swing my feet up onto the desk and lean back into my chair. “If you find a notebook that has your name written in it multiple times, do you assume that the writer is open and receptive to your advances?”
“Hold on. I need to check what year it is. I kind of feel like we’ve traveled back in time to our preschool days.”
“Ha ha,” I fake laugh. “Why did I think calling you was a good idea?”
“Probably because I’m the only friend that you have.”
“That’s not true. I have hundreds of names in my contacts app.”
“We’re not talking about the number of people who would be willing to answer the phone because you are Finn O’Hare,” he unnecessarily clarifies, “but the number of people that would stand by you if you were Finn Johnson.”