There was a time when she thought he was cute. It was back when they worked on different floors and only saw each other occasionally, during too-short elevator rides or too-crowded staff meetings.

And then, there was a Christmas party. And champagne. The good kind that makes you giddy before you realize there's even the slightest percentage of alcohol in your system. And the cute guy from the floor above was there, tall and handsome in his casual suit and that dark shirt with the soft fabric that reminded her of fluffy summer clouds. They bumped into each other by the bar and started talking—about work, about their interests, about anything really, their knees brushing and hands grazing more and more as the night went on. His dimples were adorable and his deep voice, magnetizing. Every time he laughed, Elsa's smile widened a little. And when he asked if she wanted to go for a walk with him, she gladly took his hand. And everything else that came with it.

The sex was alright. Mediocre. Forgettable. Or so she tells herself when the sheets rub on her bare legs and the phantom touch of his hands invades her mind. When he leans a little closer over her desk and the smell of his cologne hits her nostrils, making her breath hitch and her pulse speed up. When he smirks at her from across the room like he's the greatest gift to humankind and reminds her of that same ridiculous smirk gleaming in the dark between her thighs. Ugh. Bastard.

That was before she knew what a cocky jerk he really was though. Now, all remembering those times does is make her feel like a gullible fool. That and giving her the urge to hurl and rip her hair off her scalp in one determined pull.

It was a one-night stand. She wasn't looking for a relationship, or a friends with benefits type of deal, and she made sure to tell him that. He seemed to be on the same page as her, and other than the occasional comment sprinkled with innuendo he sent her way when no one else was paying attention, they seemed to have an agreement.

Even now, no one else knows. Elsa would rather throw herself in front of a speeding truck than let anyone in on what happened that disastrous Christmas Eve. That is a secret she will fight tooth and nail to drag into the grave with her, thank you very much. And if Jack has any funny ideas, she will murder him. And she will find a shaman to revive him. And she will murder him again.

"Funny, I don't think you had any trouble being under me before."

Panicked, Elsa looks around, worried someone might overhear him and get the wrong idea (or maybe the technically right one? Jesus. This is a mess. He is a whole barrel of mess in human form). But luckily for her, the office is nearly deserted, those present too engrossed in their own desks to give their conversation a smidge of interest. Spinning back with a glare, she has to hold herself not to fly at him and tear his throat open with her nails. "I'm gonna report you for sexual harassment."

He laughs with contempt as if she's just told him a bad joke. "Please. Like anyone's gonna give a crap about two sexually active consenting adults fooling around on their off-work time. Although I'm guessing I'll have to stop saying stuff like that once I'm your boss because that clusterfuck would be all shades of screwed up."

Well, at least she doesn't have to throw 'being a sleazy jerk' on top of all his shortcomings. Not that she would ever mention any of that out loud. Giving him even half-praise would make her die a little inside. Instead, she clicks her tongue and says, "Get this through your thick skull, Jackson: that night was an abnormality. A lapse of judgment. A single, forgettable, pitiful moment in the infinite cosmos. And the moment has passed, buddy. The moment is so far away you couldn't find it with goddamn satellite tracking."

Jack pouts. "Aw, but we had such a great moment. Multiple if memory serves."

Her thighs lock together. "It's sad how delusional you really are, Overland."

That oddly breaks the camel's back and Jack lunges forward, gripping her chair's armrests and pulling her to him. Ire burns in his eyes, tension tightens his every muscle. A vein pops on his neck, pulsing with anger. The raw emotions radiating through his skin startle Elsa. She'd be frightened if his sudden outburst also didn't make her feel… aroused. Her heartbeat speeds up, and an unsettling surge of heat at the bottom of her stomach makes her tightly press her knees together as his gaze scorches her skin.

Hovering over her, his breathing is uneven, and when he speaks, his voice has lowered to a ragged growl. "Listen sweetheart, your frigid bitch routine is not cute anymore."

Refusing to let him know how much the proximity is affecting her, she jabs him in the chest. Hard . "Get off me, you stupid caveman."

"Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, Arendelle." He laughs, his voice thick with contempt. Arms still on both sides of her chair, he traps her there, too close for her to look anywhere but back at his rage-filled eyes. "But it takes two to tango. And if you think I'm alone in this old song and dance of ours, makes you really wonder who is actually the delusional one here."

His eyes flicker to her semi-parted lips, and for a moment, she thinks he may kiss her. And she braces herself for it, nails digging into her skin, air stopping in her throat.

But then her chair is rolling back as he pushes himself upright, and she has to blink repeatedly to understand the chill that comes with the sudden loss of his body heat. The complete opposite of closing the measly distance between them, he pulls away like she's just told him she tested positive for an exorbitant bouquet of venereal diseases. Fist clenched and jaw tight, he sends a final glare in her direction before stomping down the row of desks. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Arendelle!" he shouts from over his shoulder, his tone conveying he wishes her anything but.

She shoots lazers at the back of his head until he's out of sight and the sound of the automatic door opening and closing reaches her ears. It is not until the elevator pings that she collapses on her chair and lets out a frustrated groan at the ceiling.

That bastard!


Elsa knocks on the glass of her boss' doorframe. "Mr. Robert? You wanted to see me?"

"Come in, Elsa." Her graying mid-forties kind boss gestures to the vacant chair in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

She obeys, smoothing the front of her skirt with mild apprehension on her shoulders as she waits for her boss to speak.

At last, Mr. Robert places his folded hands over the desk and clears his throat. "There has been a slight change to your trip to the Seoul office's itinerary. You're expected there next week."

Not letting her surprise show on her face, Elsa nods carefully. She'd been occasionally communicating with the Korean analysts to hash out her schedule in a very lengthy and detailed email thread for almost two months. "May I ask why?"

"An overlooked schedule overlap on their side of the planning," he says by way of explanation and leaves it at that.

Had Elsa not known her boss wasn't the type to joke, she would have burst out laughing at the ridiculosity of the man's statement. Next week?! Was she really supposed to put a pause on everything she's been currently working on to go to the other side of the globe for three weeks? What about her smart wardrobe app? What about the lead analyst application and the face-to-face interview? What about her life? Anna is not going to like this. Her little sister is going to freak—hell, Elsa wouldn't put stowaway past Anna at this point. It's one thing to have months to prepare for that sort of work obligation; it's a very different thing to find all the hours she poured into planning this trip were for naught, and for that sort of curveball to be thrown at her so banally, like an afterthought.

"I don't think I have much choice in the matter, do I?" she sighs, dejected.

Mr. Robert's eyes soften slightly. "I'm afraid not. Your plane ticket and accommodations are being arranged as we speak."

Elsa nods again, eyes glued to her nails. How considerate of him.

As if reading her mind, Mr. Robert adds, "Do know that we will be doing everything in our power to ensure your stay is as smooth as possible."

"I understand." And she does. It's a hard pill to swallow, but, from an employee's perspective, she can see that Mr. Robert's hands are tied, and she appreciates him looking out for her in the ways he can.

"Your responsibilities here will be reassigned to other staff members, as well as the base planning for the AI app you pitched in the last meeting."

"Sir, I wanted to be the one overseeing that—" She shuts her mouth, swallowing the frustrations constricting her throat. "Never mind."

"Take the rest of the week to compile whatever pertinent files the team should have access to during your temporary absence."

Every new word feels like a brick piling on her shoulders. "Yes, sir."

"You will see, Ms. Arendelle, that this trip will be a good opportunity for you. One I sincerely hope you make the most of," Mr. Robinson reminds her, though she can't help but hear a level of pity in his undertone.

"Anything else?"

Her boss shakes his head. "Keep an eye on your email. You will be informed of any updates as soon as possible. If you don't have any other questions, you're dismissed."

Legs wobbling under her weight, she slowly carries herself out of the room. Her heels are unstable against the polished floor. Her hearing feels muffled. Her eyes blur around the edges. There's a fog muddling her brain.

The rug has just been pulled out from under her feet.

But it is only once she's safely locked inside a stall in the bathroom that she lets the first pained tear fall.


Her deadline has been severely shortened. God knows what her schedule will look like once she joins the Korean team; it's too risky to leave submitting her application for after she leaves. And from the looks of it, she won't be able to add the outfit assistant idea to her portfolio, it's still too rough to impress anyone as it is now. Terrific.

"Can I get some of that?"

Her head spins at the voice, and she finds Jack with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the break room's doorway, looking as if he's been waiting there for a while. There's still a sternness in his eyes, like a remnant of the little squabble from the other night. Her eyebrows furrow. "What?"

He gestures to the coffee pot she's hovering over. The red light is on, indicating it's ready, and making Elsa silently question how long she's zoned out for. "Oh." Hurriedly, she steps back, empty mug clutched in her hands. Her eyes remain on the coffee pot, but her mind is miles away, thinking about everything she still has to get done today makes a sense of panic stir in her stomach.

Jack pours the hot liquid into his mug, nearly to the brim, but sensing her blank stare, he hesitates. His eyes shift between her and the coffee. "You didn't poison this, did you?"

Elsa snickers. She leans back, resting her head against the wall, and meets his gaze. "I did. Enjoy the cyanide."

One eyebrow arches upward. "Bit early to start killing off the competition, isn't it?"

She shrugs and closes her eyes. There's a migraine brewing in the front of her skull. She's so tired she wouldn't be surprised to find out she's coming down with something. She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing heat onto her skin.

"Also, just use rat poison like a normal person, you geek. Way harder to track."

Eyes still softly closed, she chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

There's a screech of metal against the floor tile, and she sees Jack pulling a chair back. "I heard about Korean."

"Hmm…" Of course he did. It hasn't even been an hour since she received an email with her flight information, but it shouldn't surprise her that people are already talking about it by the water cooler. News travels fast in the office. Gossip travels even faster.

"You're zoning out like a hipster vegan with a B12 deficiency."

"No, I'm not," she protests too quickly, and he just stares at her like her denial is enough to validate his baseless point.

A pause, then, he huffs. "Seriously, Arendelle. What's up with you?"

Elsa bites the inside of her cheek. Like hell she's telling Jackson Overland how utterly blindsided this trip to the South Korean headquarters is making her feel. She'd rather eat her shoes than open up about the unease settling in her bones. A weird premonition that this trip will be far more important to her career than her boss is making it sound. Like it's the benchmark that will make it or break it for her. So instead of saying anything incriminating that he can later use as leverage, she blurts out, "My peace lily is going to die."

"Your what?" Jack asks confused.

She sighs. "The plant on my desk."

"Bummer." He takes a slow and long sip from his coffee. "I can take care of it while you're gone."

"No, thanks."

"Hey, I can handle watering a goddamn plant, lady," he mumbles exaggeratedly affronted, as if that is the only reason she could have for refusing his offer. "Even I am not that incompetent."

"Debatable," she mocks. "But that's not what I was referring to."

"Well, what did you mean?"

"That I'd rather watch an entire rainforest burn than owe you a favor, basically."

Jack crosses his arms, a flash of annoyance crossing his expression. He lets out a slow breath. "You think I'm a worse problem than global warming?"

"That was hyperbolic, you idiot."

He narrows his eyes, falling silent for what feels like an eternity. The way he studies her, attentive to her every microexpression makes her shrink under his gaze. Vulnerability overwhelms her.

Then, he clucks his tongue. "Keep your head in the fucking game, Arendelle."

She frowns. "What are you talking about?"

He crosses his arms, the pleased smirk on his lips unbelievably haughty. "When I beat you, I want it to be because I'm better than you, not because you're distracted."

"The only way you can beat me, Overland, is if it happens in your stupid little dreams."

"You submit your application yet?"

Her teeth clench. "I'm doing it tonight," she grumbles. Fed up with his entire existence, she storms out, her heels clicking pointedly against the floor.

"Don't you dare chicken out, lady!"

Jack wants a challenge? Oh, he will get a challenge alright. Elsa's application is going to leave that idiot in the dust. And once she gets the job, she will revel in rubbing her victory all over his stupid face. She's gonna put that jerk in his place, and he'll finally have to accept how astoundly superior she is in every aspect of the damn word.


Salutations!

So... it's been a while. Long story short, this year sucked (and we just entered October). It was one shitty thing after the other in my life and writing wasn't a priority. Adding to that, I felt really disheartened to finish posting this story because, for a while, I had no new ideas for other stories. Well, I had ideas, just none I felt like writing. This literally changed yesterday. Using some spare time here and there, I outlined a bunch of stuff and drafted a maybe first chapter! Whoop whoop! It's gonna be very banter-y and stupid. And I think it's gonna be a fun ride. 😈

That story, which I'm loosely calling 'the divorce story' for now won't be up for a while, still a lot of kinks to smooth out. As for this one, I think I'm happy with where I ended it. I could write more, and I was writing more... until I wasn't. Those plans were scratched. So the ending may not satisfy everyone. Oh well. Anyway, expect another chapter within the next few weeks! Until then! ✌️