Page 53 of A Devious Arrangement
Shit. Shit. Shit. Bash may be playful, but I’m not sure even he can overlook me breaking into his things. Although, his text doesn’t sound all that threatening…
I’m nothing if not stubborn, so I go on the offense.
Me: I had you blocked.
Future Husband: I know. It hurt. *broken heart emoji*
I click into my contacts and switch his name.
Me: You said you’d help me get the tiara. I’m just taking the initiative.
Mr. Delusional: Password is Princesssayplease1
What the actual hell? My hand curls into a fist. I’m going to kill him when I see him.
I type in the first few letters, then hesitate with my fingers poised over the keys. “This won’t blow up on me, will it?”
Mr. Delusional: Who’s being paranoid now? Don’t you trust me?
As much as I hate to admit it, I do trust him. At least enough that I don’t think he will explode his house just because he caught me snooping. He’s had plenty of opportunities to get me into trouble if he wanted to, but somehow, he’s always played along instead. At first, I chalked it up to him finding me amusing. A new plaything to help him cope with the tedium of the day-to-day. The girl dressed like her brother trying to steal from the Order Of Saints, interesting enough to keep him occupied for a while.
After last night…a naive part of me can’t help but think that he invited me to hang out with his family because he sees me as something other than just a way to ease his curiosity. Well…he didn’t really invite me.
“Oh my God. Did I just barge into some super-intimate family gathering, and was he just too nice to say anything?”
Mr. Delusional: You know I’m not a nice guy, Princess.
Before I can respond, I hit the final key, and the monitor flashes on. My mouth falls open when an image of Bash naked, bits covered only by a particularly large eggplant emoji, is multiplied by one hundred over the screen. They’re all swaying side to side, and there’s confetti falling down from the top.
Struck stunned, I stare, hand hovering over the mouse. Suddenly, music blasts through the speakers, and I jump in the chair, heart rate through the roof as I scramble to mute it.
My lips hurt from smiling, and my voice shakes with laughter. “How did you even do this?”
Mr. Delusional: Canva
Me: You’re a loser
Mr. Delusional: You think I’m funny.
Me: In your dreams.
Mr. Delusional: You are not ready to hear about my dreams with you on that desk.
Me: It’s never happening again.
Mr. Delusional: You’re the one that promised next time.
“I did not!”
Mr. Delusional: Would you like me to rewind the tape?
Me: There better not be a video
Mr. Delusional: *angel emoji*
There’s a loud bang when my forehead lands on the desk, and I groan when I check his next text.
Mr. Delusional: You look cute, disheveled like that.
