The Hating Game by Sally Thorne Read Free Book Online

interview is a presentation. You’ll need to get started on it. They want to hear your thoughts on the future direction of B and G.”
    I’m itching to get back to my desk. I need to update my CV. “Do you mind if I work on my application during my lunch breaks?”
    â€œDarling, I don’t care if you work on it all day until it’s due. Lucy Hutton, chief operating officer, Bexley and Gamin. It sounds good, doesn’t it.”
    A grin spreads across my face.
    â€œIt’s yours. I feel it.” Helene makes a motion of zipping her lip. “Now go. Get it.”
    I sit at my desk and unlock my computer to open my woefully outdated CV. I’m lit up inside by this new opportunity. Everything about today has changed. Well, almost everything.
    I notice a shape standing over me after I’ve been editing for several minutes. I breathe in. Spicy cedar. His belt buckle winks at me. I do not break my keystrokes.
    â€œThe job is mine, Shortcake,” Joshua’s voice says.
    To stop myself from standing up and punching him in the gut I’m counting one, two, three, four . . .
    â€œFunny, that’s what Helene just told me.” I watch his backside walk away in the glossed surface of my desk, and vow that Joshua Templeman is going to lose the most important game we’ve ever played.

Chapter 4
    O ff-white stripes today, and I’ve got a big red cross in my planner for Friday. I would bet a hundred dollars there’s an identical red cross in Joshua’s. Our job applications are due.
    I’m half-insane from rereading my application. I’ve become so obsessed with my presentation I’ve started dreaming about it. I need a break. I lock my screen and watch with interest as Joshua does the same. We are aligned like chess players. We fold our hands. I still haven’t seen his pencil in motion.
    â€œHow You Doing, Little Lucy?” His bright tone and mild expression indicates we’re playing a game we almost never play. It’s a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don’t hate each other. We act like normal colleagues who don’t want to swirl their hands in each other’s blood. It’s disturbing.
    â€œGreat, thanks, Big Josh. How You Doing?”
    â€œSuper. Gonna go get coffee. Can I get you some tea?” He has his heavy black mug in his hand. I hate his mug.
    I look down; my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. He’d spit in anything he made me. Does he think I’m crazy? “I think I’ll join you.”
    We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identicalfootfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order . It requires me to almost double my stride. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Time to act civil. Like executives.
    â€œAh-ha-ha,” we say to each other genially at some pretend joke. “Ah-ha-ha.”
    We sweep around a corner. Annabelle turns from the photocopier and almost drops her papers. “What’s happening?”
    Joshua and I nod at her and continue striding, unified in our endless game of one-upmanship. My short striped dress flaps from the g-force.
    â€œMommy and Daddy love you very much, kids,” Joshua says quietly so only I can hear him. To the casual onlooker he is politely chatting. A few meerkat heads have popped up over cubicle walls. It seems we’re the stuff of legend. “Sometimes we get excited and argue. But don’t be scared. Even when we’re arguing, it’s not your fault.”
    â€œIt’s just grown-up stuff,” I softly explain to the apprehensive faces we pass. “Sometimes Daddy sleeps on the couch, but it’s okay. We still love you.”
    In the kitchen I am hanging my tea bag into my mug when the urge to laugh almost knocks me over