Fake It List

Eleven

Reysha's heart was trying its very best to burst right out of her chest. She wouldn't run. The Fake It List  was already in play, and she was done chickening out over everything. It was nothing. Nothing doesn't involve sticking your finger in a man's mouth. Your boss's mouth. Oh God. Was it possible to actually panic herself to invisibleness? She pressed her nails into the fleshy part of her palms. She would not run. It was a momentary lapse of sanity, and now she'd play it off. They'd get it on ... Holy hell, Reysha! You most definitely will not get it or anything else on with him. She meant get on with their night. Their work. But apparently, her brain was broken.

Chris lifted his head from the fridge. She wasn't sure what he'd been doing, but maybe he felt as stupid as she did. People never feel the way you do. You can't know that. He stepped forward, and her breath got caught, tangled in her throat. A weird, garbled sound left her mouth. Of course. Because things aren't awkward enough, you need to add strange noises.

"Are you okay? I truly apologize," Chris said, his eyes searching hers as if they held some secret.

He was sorry? He hadn't stuck his finger ... Don't. Just don't. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She wasn't leaving. Rule six: Be bold, even if it gives you hives. She scratched at her stomach. Staying was brave.

"I respect you and didn't mean to cross a line. You're an employee, and I hope I haven't made things unbearable. I understand if you want to leave."

Does he want me to leave? Wait, what was unbearable? My finger? It tasted like cannoli. That's hardly unbearable. I can't leave! I'm being brave.

"But I hope you don't," he said, passing her the water.

Pasting on a smile that probably made her look like someone was pinching her, she took the water. "Not leaving. Sorry about the awkward moment. If we could avoid talking about it for the rest of ever, I'd truly appreciate it."

He gave a curt nod. "Done. Absolutely."

Okay. She could do this. They could do this. When his lips curved into a more relaxed smile, Reysha's brain brought up the memory of how sexy his mouth felt wrapped around her index finger. My brain hates me.

Chris's eyes narrowed. "You good?"

"Awesome," she said with way too much enthusiasm.

They made their way back to the living room. When they sat in the same spots on the couch, nerves washed over her again, threatening to buckle her knees.

"Again, I'm so sorry, Reysha."

The tone of his voice caught her off guard. He was really sorry. Was it because of her? Would he have been sorry if he'd accidentally sucked Stacey's finger? Ew.

"The app?" Easiest way to get over something was to avoid thinking or talking about it. Said no therapist ever. Whatever. She was a producer, not a shrink.

Chris cleared his throat and pulled his phone over. His coffee table also held some remotes, his laptop, and a lot of paperwork. What did he do besides work? Outside of work? The next man she chose was going to be able to balance personal and professional. Like you? That was a bit of a pot-kettle situation, but she was working on it. She was here, ready to map out her dating life.

"I have some rules."

Chris scrolled through his phone, pulling up an app. She couldn't see it but didn't want to lean in closer. He glanced at her from the side of his eye. "For dating?"

She gave a low laugh. "Dating. Life. Getting through birthdays." Reysha took a deep breath. "I actually meant for possible guys. No face tattoos, unkempt or abnormally long beards, weird fetishes, or nose rings."