Page 23 of How to Deal
She has a key to my apartment and I know damn well she’s trying to marry me off. Since she got engaged, it’s become her mission to find me a guy to marry, like she wants me to suffer with her.
“Night, Amalie.”
God, why do you have to talk so sexily?
“Yeah, you too.” I smile, trying to be nice for once.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I look forward to getting my mail every night from him. I don’t even ask how he gets inside my locking mailbox to get it. Pathetic, I know. I’ve only just begun this plan, and I’m already falling for my manwhore neighbor/cubicle partner from hell. It’s like I’m a glutton for punishment, or worse, like I’m trying to become the president of his Crush Brigade. God, help me.
As I expect, when I make my way inside my apartment, Casey has my laptop open and is creeping on my Facebook page.
I knew I should have logged out last night. Shaking my head, I walk toward the living room to put my mail on my counter, never bothering to look at it.
Oliver practically attacks me as soon as I’m through the door. All body wiggles and snorts and trying to get me to pet him.
Casey twists her head, grinning, which makes me nervous because whenever she acts like this, it’s because she’s done something she shouldn’t have. Like signing me up for eHarmony or Match.com. She’s done it four times, and every time I’ve deleted the profile she created for me.
As I step closer, the nerves creep over me. My page is up on Facebook, and she’s looking at the notifications in the upper right corner of the screen.
I’m going to kill her. That’s it. No need for her to get married because she will be dead. “Did you—?” I look at the notification she’s focused on.
Tathan Madsen has accepted your friend request.
What.
The.
Fuck.
She can’t be serious.
“Say what?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Casey’s eyes widen, scanning my apartment and never landing on my face. “I went to click on his name, and it pressed the button to friend him.”
Bull. Shit. She’s trying to defend herself with a lie. I know this because Casey can’t lie. If she does, she won’t look at you. And look at her now, eyes roaming.
“Casey Ann McDaniel!” Stomping over to her, I slap her shoulder. “What have you done?”
She pushes a glass of wine she poured for me in my direction, knowing this would be my reaction. “I’m sorry?”
“Casey.” I moan, throwing myself on the couch and flopping my arms over my face. “The friend button isn’t anywhere near his name. That wasn’t an accident, and now he’s going to think I like him.”
She makes a snorting noise. “Because you do.”
I don’t answer her because I’m too busy thinking about how to fix this. That certainly explains the grin when I was over there.
Goddamn it. That’s just fucking great. Now he’s gonna think I like him. There goes any plan I had to make him miserable. I can’t do that if we’re Facebook friends. “How do you cancel that?”
“Can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” I jab my finger offensively at the screen. “Unfriend him.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You like him, admit it. There’s no harm in being Facebook friends with him and look at his page, the dude’s deep.”
Deep? Not likely.
“I do not like him.” As much as I don’t want to, my eyes drift to the screen and his profile page plastered with photographs of sunrises. Son of a sucker. “I hate. . . him.” Christ, that was damn near painful to say.
