The Desire Variable | Rewrite

⸻ SEVENTEEN ⸻

There's a moment of silence, where I do my best to figure out if she's pulling my leg or not. I might be a novice in these matters, but this sounds like a terrible plan. "Are you seriously suggesting that I should fuck my boss?"

"Yes, I am."

"Aren't you a lawyer or something? Don't you see how terribly this could end?"

"Babe, this is the twenty-first century. I don't see why two consenting adults who want to bang each other couldn't indulge. Make sure he's on the same wavelength, and just fuck him. Or let him fuck you. Regardless of who's fucking who, have his dick in you."

"How long has it been since you last got laid already?"

"It's been almost two months."

"Ah, makes sense... You're the one who needs a good dicking. Not me."

"Yeah, I know. I'm working on that. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong, Dee. I've had flings like that, and I swear, physical attraction always wears off. It constantly has for me, at least."

I can't even believe I'm still entertaining her idea, but I ask, "What are the chances it'll actually work?"

"Since it's just sex, it will work. Might just take a few tries."

I let out a whimper, hating the way I was genuinely considering her advice. What if that's all it takes? A few naked cardio sessions with Lex, and then he's out of under my skin, so Oli can take his place.

"Well, I can hear you're calculating every possibility, so I'll leave you to it," Kate says. "If you need to talk some more, call me in the morning, babe."

"Hmm... You know I hate you for putting this idea in my head, right?"

"Yep, I figured you would. You know me, though. I tell it like it is."

"And I love you for that. Sweet dreams, blondie."

"Sweet dreams, Deedee."

As I lie down in my bed, still wearing my date clothes, I wonder if I reached it yet. The point where I regret moving here at all, taking that new job, meeting those new people...

My life was boring before, yes. But it was also so much simpler.

***

God has a terrible sense of humor. Especially since I'm his scapegoat. There's no denying both those statements when I get into the elevator the next morning and see Lex in it. He gives me one of those icy looks before deciding I ought to be ignored again.

But then Oli gets in, and I nearly snort at the improbability of the situation. But it fucking figures.

I'm not ready to deal with this mess, especially since I barely got any sleep.

Oblivious to my state of mind—because how could he know?—Oli makes his way to me among the many others trying to fit in there. "Hi, She-Hulk," he greets me joyfully.

I force a smile on my lips. "Hi, Mr. Garden."

Tammy's here too, next to me, pretending to pay us no mind. But I know her enough to be aware she'll be doing her best to sneakily lipread. But that's not as embarrassing as Lex being right next to us, hearing everything.

"So," Oliver starts once the doors are shut. "Last night was delightful. Didn't go exactly as I planned, but I think I prefer your approach. The Uber driver pestered me the entire way to my place."

Can I pretend to lose consciousness to get out of this?

No, that's the cowardly way, and Hernández women don't cower. Except for poultry, because hens and geese are nasty peckers. A lesson I learned the hard way when visiting distant family in Mexico. No, I'll make this as un-awkward as possible, and then speak privately with Oli to explain the situation.