Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Ha. Ha. Ha. My chest feels tight in a way I don’t think it’s supposed to at twenty-three. And I have no family history of heart disease or defects, so I’m guessing I need to calm down.
Just breathe, June. Keep it simple.
ElizaBeth: I can’t tell you that.
The sounds of footsteps come from the other side of my wall—from Beau’s condo—and my ears confirm that he’s literally in his bedroom. Right now. While he’s talking to me.
More footsteps move around his room, and instinct makes me hold my breath. Boom, boom, boom. My heart pounds in my ears, but when a new message pops onto the screen, all the air leaves my lungs in a shaky whoosh as I read it.
ThunderStruck: Why not?
Why? Right. Whyyyy can’t I tell him who I am, other than that being the literal scariest thing I’ve ever heard of? I shake my hands in the air and turn from side to side as though a reason is going to pop up on a magical holographic screen in the middle of my bedroom.
Maybe I should ask my dad for one of those for his next emotional buy-off gift? I mean, maybe we can work together to make my complete lack of familial fulfillment worthwhile for once.
ThunderStruck: Hello?
Right. Shit. There’s a very real, very sexy human on the other side of my freaking bedroom wall waiting for answers. I’ve got to get myself together here.
Just type the first thing you think of and send it, I coach before silently laughing sardonically to myself. Oh yeah. That’s bound to go well.
But as the seconds tick by along with the painful realization that he might disappear if I don’t answer him, I quickly type out the most realistic answer I can think of.
ElizaBeth: Because I need to stay anonymous.
ThunderStruck: And why do you need to stay anonymous?
ElizaBeth: I overheard something at the office that I think you should know about.
ThunderStruck: ?
ElizaBeth: There’s a cock sniffing around your henhouse.
ThunderStruck: Excuse me?
My face flames with embarrassment when I realize how ridiculous what I sent sounds. Cock in the henhouse? Really, June? I knew being spontaneous was going to get out of control at some point. I need to just be blunt.
ElizaBeth: Someone is sniffing around your Midnight campaign.
ThunderStruck: Oh, really? Let me guess…that someone’s name starts with an S and rhymes with Beth.
ElizaBeth: Bingo.
ThunderStruck: He make any progress with the sniffing around?
ElizaBeth: Not from what I overheard, but he’s trying. Hard.
ThunderStruck: And what did you overhear?
ElizaBeth: I don’t think I should get into that.
ThunderStruck: Sounds exactly like what someone who just wants to stir up drama would say. In fact, maybe you are Beth with an S trying to set me up for self-sabotage by not trusting my team when I should. If this were really happening, why wouldn’t they be telling me about it?
Okay, that’s…insane but plausible. Maybe I’m going to have to give a little more information than I thought.
ElizaBeth: Seth cornered Laura in the conference room and tried to flirt his way into a coalition. Her force field is strong. She refused. Later, I saw him in Jay’s office, shooting the shit and pretending to practice his golf swing. Or maybe he was practicing since he absolutely flubbed the company tournament last year, I don’t know. But he was swinging and they were laughing and he looked particularly smarmy the whole time.
A minute passes by before he responds. And I hold my breath the entire time. I even note footsteps moving farther away on the other side of the wall. They retreat so far that eventually, I don’t hear them at all.
Shit. Is he going to leave the chat? Is he going to tell me fuck off? Is he—
ThunderStruck: All right, I believe you’re legit now, based on your knowledge of how shitty Seth golfs. And I believe you’re not him, because there’s no way he’d ever admit that himself, even if it was to take me down.
Phew.
ElizaBeth: See? I know things.
ThunderStruck: What else do you know?
ElizaBeth: Well…nothing, actually. But I’ll keep an eye out.
ThunderStruck: And who did you say you were again?
ElizaBeth: I didn’t.
ThunderStruck: Maybe you should change that…
ElizaBeth: Uh-uh. I’ve never heard a story of a whistleblower who didn’t disappear. Mysterious car accident. Building explosion. High-speed boat chase during a hurricane. I’m not risking it.
ThunderStruck: Haha. You’re not dealing with nuclear codes. You’re dealing with ad marketing campaigns. Surely there’s no risk to your life with this.
ElizaBeth: You never know. Money and power are involved. Some people get desperate.
ThunderStruck: But if you told me who you were, then I could protect you…
Beau Banks protecting me? I picture him in a cute, regal uniform with a sword at his side and a cartoonishly big smile. Other people would look ridiculous, but he still looks good. Too good.
So good I consider stringing him along a little longer just so I can pretend.