Another gird-your-loins chapter!
It's an emotional one.

.

.

Thanks to:
Di, my editor,
Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game
Chapter 5

Fifteen minutes before quitting time on Monday, I received a private Teams chat message.

Edward Cullen mentioned you.

Just when I thought the coast was clear. That he had forgotten those words he'd said to me Friday night.

We need to talk.

I squinted at my computer monitor. The number one in the red ball sat there at the bottom of the screen of my Teams app taunting me, making it impossible to ignore. However, I gave it a good shot over the next ten minutes or so, trying to focus on what I'd been doing before he'd interrupted me. I could tell him I hadn't seen his message until it was too late.

What did he want? Was it work-related, or did it have something to do with Friday night?

We need to talk.

Edward and those words, along with their implication, had haunted my dreams over the weekend. Just what the hell did he want to talk about?

I hadn't done anything wrong. All I'd done was respond in kind to the challenge he'd first thrown to me. That song he sang—saying he hoped I'd learn to forgive, that he'd pray for it . . .

Don't hold your breath, buddy. The way my fists clenched at the thought of forgiving him told me I wasn't ready yet.

Years ago, I guessed I'd lied to my therapist when I claimed I'd moved past him and the bullying, because I did not forgive Edward Cullen. Forgiving him would mean denying all those times he'd made seventeen-year-old Bella cry and feel worthless.

But maybe I'd been too obvious when I sang the song? It had been such fun, and so freeing, though. I'd felt as if I was having my say about his actions toward me in high school, and damned if I was going to feel badly about it. Of course, there was also the way I'd reacted to him—stiff, aghast, and just fucking furious—once he'd put his hands on me. Maybe someone other than Alice had noticed?

I glanced back at the red ball.

He'd be able to tell when I read the message. He'd see the eyeball's notification that showed I'd read what he sent, and I'd have to respond.

Damn it, I might as well read it since I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything else at the moment.

I clicked on the Teams app, then moved my cursor over to the chat bubble. And I was going to click it . . . I was . . . when my phone rang, startling me so badly that I yelped and jumped in my chair.

The digital readout on my phone read E Cullen.

Fuck.

"Isabella Swan," I said crisply.

"Please come to my office," he said, his voice smooth and polite. "Now."

Well, that was less polite.

Feeling as if I was going to my doom, I stood from my chair and peeked over the wall into Alice's office. She was busily typing and didn't even notice I'd stood. She'd been somewhat aloof with me today.

On Friday night, all I'd told her was that Edward and I had gone to high school together, that we'd hung out with different people. She'd been disappointed with my short explanation, and had given me a look that suggested she didn't believe me. So, I'd gone on to explain that those years weren't good memories for me and I didn't really want to discuss them. She'd left it at that, but I knew someday she'd want more.

"Alice? Do you need anything before we leave for the day? I've been summoned to Edward's office," I said, hoping she'd be concerned or at least curious about why she hadn't been included.

"Nope, I'm good," Alice answered, not even turning away from her monitor. "If I'm gone before you get back, have a great evening."

Well, shit.

"Okay, thanks. You, too."

She left me with no other alternative but to head to Edward's office alone. Taking a breath, I straightened my shoulders and turned, eyeing the office with its glass-fronted window across the room. Edward was an open-door boss; I never saw it closed. But now that I was standing and looking directly into his doorway, I realized his desk was positioned in sight of my cubicle. I could actually see the side of his body, and then, his face, as if he felt my gaze, or as if he was looking to see if I was finally coming.

It shocked me into moving. Suddenly, I was striding with purposeful steps toward my boss who wore a distinctly impatient look on his face. Even more disturbing, he didn't once move his gaze off me as I approached. And was it my imagination, or had his eyes drifted lightning-quick down my body?

"Please shut the door," he said when I arrived in his doorway, surprising the hell out of me. I hoped it didn't show on my face because I didn't want to let him know how he was affecting me.

"Have a seat," he told me as I turned.

"I'd rather stand. It's almost five," I reminded him in case he'd forgotten.

"Have a seat," he repeated firmly.

Instead of taking the chair directly in front of him, I sank down into the one that was catty-corner. The dress I wore hiked up to mid-thigh as I crossed my legs. They were toned and well shaped, and if they had the power to throw him off the way I felt he was trying to throw me off, I was going with it.

I also knew I was being bratty, but I was nervous about what he wanted. Hell, I was nervous around him in general.

Edward was in a cornflower blue shirt today, which made his eyes look more blue than green. Under his heavy, dark eyebrows, they appeared calm, yet determined. I saw them narrow slightly before he stood, coming around the desk to take the chair beside me. He even helpfully turned my way, leaving me nowhere to hide.

"I think we need to get a few things straight," he began.

My heart began to pound then race from the look in his eyes. Little shivers began to run up my back, and I felt antsy as hell. I wanted to look away, but that would have been a sign of weakness, which I definitely was not feeling.

Liar.

"I told myself if you took this job, we would keep our personal selves—our past—out of our working relationship," he continued, his gaze holding mine. "I wanted you to succeed here, for my relationship with you to remain professional. So, I apologize for bringing it up last Friday with the song. You didn't deserve that."

You could have knocked me over with a pinky finger.

Nowhere between the words he spoke were derision or anger, and my body, my breathing, continued to react at how he was looking at me. He was one hell of a sexy guy who was probably more than aware how his appearance, his stare, affected a woman. He was using those eyes now, not letting me go, pinning me in place.

"I accept your apology," I replied, maybe a little out of breath, then gave him a questioning look.

Is that all?

After a moment, I saw a crack appear in his smooth facade; he almost bit his lower lip.

"That's it?" he asked. "You're not going to apologize also?"

"You started it," I retorted, then immediately winced.

No, I did not just say that.

Edward's eyes lightened and his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile.

"I mean, I was just responding to what you did. But since you apologized, I will, too. I shouldn't have reacted to your offer of help with such anger, I guess."

My reply made him full-on smile, and the gorgeousness of it shook me. Damn him! Why was he looking at me like that?

"Is that all?" I asked, making a move to stand.

"No," he said, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. "I understand you have a problem with me, and I can't begin to tell you how I regret the reason why," he began softly. "But I'd like to try to put our past behind us. I'd like to try to become friends. Or if not friends, at least polite acquaintances and good coworkers."

Then, he gave me a questioning look.

My throat went dry. He was bringing up our past even though I'd expressly asked him not to, acting as though it wasn't any big deal, and then skirting it by asking us to be friends.

He wanted us to be friends?

The idea was unfathomable to me.

Shit, he really was a nice guy now, if a bit deluded. Still, it didn't mean I wasn't having trouble reconciling the man in front of me with the asshole boy I used to know. It made me feel angry and defensive, because I wasn't where he was in our so-called relationship.

"Wow. If only you'd had this mindset back in high school when I really needed it," I said, my tone full of snark.

He raised an eyebrow at me, but continued to regard me gently. "Yes, but I'm asking now, Bella."

Hearing him say my name slammed my heart into my throat. It was powerful coming from him. It was too much, actually, and I felt my face flush.

He leaned forward in his chair toward me, and for a panicked second, I thought he was going to touch my knee. But he was just trying to use his body, his presence, to intimidate me into accepting what he wanted.

It nearly worked.

"Only my friends call me Bella," I said, and my voice was thin with emotion. Damn it. "And we're not there yet. I don't know if we could ever be f-friends, though."

He gave me a soft smile of regret. "No?"

"No," I answered in a stronger tone, leaning back in my chair. Away from him.

He sighed and stood, walking over to the window behind his desk, presenting me with his wide shoulders and a well-shaped back. In response, my eyes closed in relief, and my body sagged before I could give it permission to do so. I hadn't realized how stiff I'd been.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized with horror that he'd been watching me through the window's reflection.

I.

Wanted.

To.

Die.

"Then we'll be acquaintances, with everything that entails," Edward said, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. "We'll smile when we pass each other, and we'll say hello like civilized people, giving no one cause to suspect anything might be wrong between us."

He turned to face me, his expression one of careful patience. So now he knew; I was not ready to forgive his ass. And because of that, he'd probably discover that dealing with me was going to be tiresome at best, and irritating at worst. Maybe it would make him leave me the hell alone.

"I'm going to ask you to be more circumspect in your interactions with me. Too many people noticed us for the wrong reasons last Friday, and while I understand part of that was due to the liquor and high emotions, I see them watching us now. We both need to be careful."

Okay, then why had he asked me into his office and had me close the door? Because I was sure that didn't go unnoticed.

"Agreed," I snapped.

"If you have a problem with me, I want you to address it with me personally."

Oh, hell.

"I'm a consummate professional and I enjoy my job. I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize it, and I'm certainly not going to let my past with you affect it," I said, my voice climbing higher with each word.

It would be easier if he'd just let me be.

"Great, that's what I want to hear," he said, but he was staring at the floor.

It didn't look like what he wanted to hear. For some reason, I had the thought that I'd hurt him. Which was ridiculous, because I'd never held any power over Edward Cullen.

"What else do you want from me?"

His eyes rose to mine. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You want forgiveness," I ground out heavily. "Is that it?" Angry now, I stood. "You knocked me down for years, and I'm just supposed to let it all go? Maybe if I got a chance to knock your ass down in front of all your peers and–"

"Would that really make you feel better?" he interrupted, cool against my heat. "Seeing me look like a vulnerable fool in front of everyone? Because it never did me. More than that, it would also make you the female version of who I used to be, and I'm not sure you want that. But that time you fell in the cafeteria? It was because you tripped over my foot. I did not push you. I would never have done that."

But he also hadn't helped me up. He'd just stood there with everyone else laughing while I tried to swallow back tears. I realized now that kids could be unintentionally cruel because they were afraid to stand up when another kid was being bullied, but back then, it had been black and white; all I knew was that no one had helped me. No one had dared go against him.

I shook my head, willing away the emotion that bubbled up into my throat. How quickly it had come, and how vivid the memories still were. I thought I'd dealt with them, but I hadn't expected having to fucking talk about them face-to-face with Edward Cullen.

I'd certainly never expected a nice guy; he would have been easier for me to deal with if he'd been the same asshole I remembered.

I pressed the back of my hand against my trembling mouth. "It's going to take time. I'm not used to not hating you."

His eyes were still soft. "I have time. And I can be patient when I need to be."

I nodded, having to move my gaze away from him.

"I really am sorry for how I treated you," he murmured.

Please stop saying that. It makes me want to cry.

"I understand," I said, moving a step backward toward the door. Damn it, my knees were shaking. "And I'll be careful in our interactions." I took another step. Because I needed to go. "You know, so no one would ever guess I once hated you, and still might." I chuckled weakly.

Edward didn't look as if he shared my humor, but he also wasn't the one being led by his emotions at the moment, while I felt stripped to the bone.

"You know, you could pretend I was invisible and didn't matter," I ventured. Like he used to do, and like he'd once said about me.

Holding my gaze, he shook his head once. "Impossible. Not only are you a beautiful woman, but you're exceeding expectations with your work."

I didn't hear anything after the words you are a beautiful woman.

Oh my God, did he just say I was beautiful? Wasn't that inappropriate in the workplace?

I nodded, then realized it made me look like I was agreeing with him.

I spun around, quickly making my way to the closed door. I had just placed my fingers around the knob when he spoke again.

"Bella."

Why couldn't he get my name right? And why did it have to sound so goddamn good coming from him?

"Yes, Ed?"

"I'm still glad you're here."

I half-turned and found him giving me a smoldering stare. I felt it all the way down to my toes; fuck, it almost flattened me against the door.

Stop with the compliments and stares, would you? I don't know how to deal with them.

"Yes, well, I won't be here for much longer," I said inanely, deflecting his compliment. "It's quitting time."

And I left, pulling the door closed behind me so I wouldn't feel his stare as I ran away.

As I jogged back to my desk on the almost empty office floor, I was troubled by a distressing thought, something I acknowledged fully for the first time.

A small part of me was beginning to like this new version of Edward Cullen.