It's confirmed. The universe hates me. There's a dead body in the bathroom and I'm partially responsible for the rotting body slumped in the corner. As if that's not worse, the bathroom door swings open. I swear I've locked it, but before I can slam the door shut, my Work Nemesis™ steps through the door.
"What the hell?" Jack Lim deadpans, looking at the dead body. There's black blood slowly dripping down the toilet seat, but more disturbingly, Jack looks unfazed by the sight of his dead co-worker.
Whenever Jack and I passive-aggressively argue about work-related stuff, Jack always looks like he wants to strangle me. Wrapping his hands around my throat and squeezing until I black out. Hiding my body in his black Audi. Bringing me to his mansion, where his guest room is filled with other dead people who have pissed him off in the past.
Maybe I'm right after all. Maybe Jack really does have a guest room filled with spare body parts and that's why he's not freaking out over the dead body like I am.
Suddenly, Jack swings his serial killer whiskey-colored eyes toward me and my heart seizes up. His gaze is a laser beam, prepared to kill. "Isla. Why is there a dead body in the bathroom?"
That's an excellent question.
Two hours earlier:
By tonight, I'm going to become a girlfriend. More specifically, Aiden White's girlfriend, where I'll get to see his radiant smile directed at me. Every morning, we'll go on coffee dates and we'll share an iced coffee and a croissant sandwich. Then we'll walk to work, our fingers intertwined and when he gives my hand the briefest squeeze, my heart will wobble around like egg yolk.
During our staff dinner, I'm anxiously waiting for Aiden to make his move. My body won't stop moving, wracked with nerves. When I grab my drink, my hand trembles. When I look down, my knee jiggles nonstop. When I reach for a piece of cheesecake, I nearly drop the slice.
"Isla, you okay?" Aiden asks, right as I swallow an ice cube. I begin coughing aggressively and across from us, Jack looks disturbed.
I wave a hand around to signal that I'm fine, but in truth, I'm dying inside. The ice cube painfully lumps down my throat and I burn with embarrassment.
"So," I say, turning to Aiden. Let's tuck this embarrassing moment away. "When are you confessing to your crush?" Or let's tuck the Ice Cube Incident away with another embarrassing moment.
Now it's Aiden's turn to pink. Oh heavens, that's cute. Fun fact: every detail about Aiden's crush, I put in my mental Google Docs. Here's what I know so far. She keeps to-do lists. She's obsessed with romance movies. She's organized and cute and her name starts with "I."
After the "I" hint, I started seeing Aiden in a different light.
"Today," Aiden says and mentally, I hit Enter in my Google Docs. Confirmed. Aiden confessing to me. October 13.
"Really?" I struggle to keep my voice casual. "Well whoever she is, she'll probably say yes. You're really nice. And cute. And funny."
How distressing. I sound like an idiot.
"Thanks," laughs Aiden, before he abruptly stands up. "I'm going to do it."
My jaw drops. Here? Now? It's so sudden that my mind goes blank when Aiden begins addressing our fellow colleagues. I'm so shocked that I even let my gaze wander across from me. Jack frowns at me. Pathetic, his eyes say. Absolutely pathetic.
A mistake. I refuse to let someone like Jack ruin the romantic scene, so I swivel toward Aiden and force myself to pay attention. "There's a person here who I really like," Aiden announces and people are excited.
Like everyone else, our boss is drunk and could care less that his "business" dinner has changed into a romantic one. Aiden continues. "From the moment I saw her, I thought she was the prettiest girl ever."
Someone swoons while people are enraptured by this story. They're anxious, wanting to hear the Big Reveal, like a chocolate chip cooking dangling in front of a child. I look across from me. Like the big unromantic he is, Jack shoves a potato into his mouth.
Well, when Aiden confesses to me, Jack will surely choke on that potato and I will savor that moment.
"And when I got to know her, she was funny and cute and... whenever I see her, I feel really happy. Someone told me I should make a leap of faith." Aiden winks at me and my stomach fills with butterflies. "So I'm going to do it."
Oh my God. This is it.
After this, we're going to become boyfriend and girlfriend. When the staff dinner is over, we'll walk outside, the autumn breeze whipping through our hair. We'll tilt towards each other and kiss. Softly. Gently. Tenderly. It'll be perfect, like in the movies.
My daydream has made my heart swell up so tenderly, that when Aiden says, "Will you be my girlfriend, I—" my body moves on its own.
I launch myself towards my new boyfriend, wrapping my arms around Aiden's body. He's warm and comforting. I could get used to this. "Of course I'll go out with you," I breathe.
I wait for him to hug me back, the end picture of a Happily Ever After storybook. I wait for his mouth to curl into that smile, breath fanning against my skin as he says, "Good." I wait for the cheers from our colleagues.
The last part does happen and someone starts cheering—but their enthusiastic whoop suddenly dies down. My stomach dips and I look at Aiden's face. His body tenses and I swallow. Something is wrong. His expression is that of confusion and mortification.
I step back a second too late. Aiden is avoiding my gaze and he scratches his neck, as he mumbles, "No, not you."
My face is on fire. Everything in me freezes: the veins that stop pumping my blood, the oxygen that lodges in my throat, and my heart. I probably even died for five seconds before reviving from the shock, enough to stutter, "Pardon?"
"I meant Irene," Aiden clarifies and realization dumps on my body, hot and scalding. Oh. Irene. Irene, who constantly talks about Business Proposal and Hotel Del Luna. Irene, who keeps a planner. Irene, who Aiden always hangs around.
I am an idiot. There's no way to salvage this situation. I've just single-handedly ruined my work reputation.
Breathe, Isla. Breathe. Make up some fake excuse and leave, pronto. "Irene, of course." My laugh sounds plastic, even to me. "I knew that all along."
Aiden looks concerned, which makes me feel worse. "I stood up because Irene was in the bathroom and I was going to find her," I lie, and nobody looks convinced.
Still, nobody stops me when I practically run to the bathroom, eyes stinging. My vision is blurry and I nearly crash into someone but I don't care. I'm drunk and I'm tired and I just want this humiliating day to end. I reach the bathroom and the door swings open before I can touch it. There she is, Irene, in all her glorious form.
"Isla!" she says, brightening. Then her gaze softens. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I say. No, absolutely not. "Also, Aiden has something to tell you. Good luck."
Then I push past Irene and into the bathroom, go to the biggest stall, and completely break down. I'm crying so much, it's terrible. By the end of my crying session, I'll look terrifying. Makeup running, red-rimmed eyes. When I walk out of this bathroom, I'm sure to give someone a heart attack.
I don't know how long I've been crying, but then someone knocks on my stall. I freeze. The knock comes again. Aren't there other stalls? I check under the stalls and sure enough, they're all devoid of human beings.
Knock. "Are you okay?" a voice calls. Of all times, why is someone deciding to play the Kind and Concerned Person when all I want is to be left alone? "Hello?"
"I'm fine," I say testily.
A pause. "I don't think you are." Their voice slides deeper into concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I'm about to say no because there's no way I'm spilling my love life to a stranger. Then the words spill out of my mouth, a broken faucet. "I thought my colleague was going to confess to me, but he actually liked someone else."
I start blubbering out the embarrassing incident and the person utters a sympathetic, "Oh, sweetie. You know, I have a cure for this kind of heartbreak."
I sniffle. "Is it alcohol? Because I think I've already had too much of that."
"No." The person moves away and I feel a jolt of alarm. As weird as it is, I don't want them to leave. "I have something better."
I hear footsteps moving about and then... "Are those Bed Bath & Beyond lavender-scented candles?" I ask, confused.
"Yes." The pacing stops. "We're going to curse this Aiden person."
I nearly choke. "Curse?"
"We're not going to actually curse curse them," the person tells me. "It's more like venting frustration." The last part comes out mumbled. "We could both use a distraction, anyway."
"Bad day?"
"You could say that. So, you in?"
I hesitate for a moment. It's true, we could both use a distraction. A bad day and a bad rejection. What a duo. "Okay," I say, and the moment the word flies out of my mouth, the bathroom lights go out.
The room plunges into darkness, save for the candles that eerily cast shadows across the bathroom floor. The person begins muttering so fast, the words blur together and the hair on my skin stands.
"Imagine Aiden. Imagine the rejection."
I do and taste the bitter rejection and humiliation that lingers on my tongue. The candles sway through the stifling and for a moment, it's terrifying. I'm worried I made the wrong mistake, until the person says, "I curse Aiden so that on hot days, he can't find ice cream."
I laugh. "Pure evil," I chide, before thinking. "I curse Aiden so that whenever he uses a pencil, the lead always breaks."
"Okay," they say, amused. "I curse Aiden so every time he's on a date, pigeons poo on his head."
"I curse Aiden so when he's about to reach a traffic light, it turns red. Every. Single. Time."
"Damn, we're vicious," the person comments. Their voice suddenly turns hopeful. "Do you feel better now?"
"Weirdly, yes," I sigh, leaning against the bathroom stall.
I eye the lock, hand hovering over the metal. I want to see what my person-in-armor looks like. Then I yank it back, heart beating too fast. What if the stranger is someone I know? I'd prefer to keep the humiliation to a minimum.
"Do you think the curses would work?" the person asks.
I play along. "Well, we wouldn't know unless there's an immediate curse. Like, cursing Aiden to die right now or something."
The candles blow out at the same time and the person fumbles for the lights. It smells horrible like we've been burning corpses. The staff isn't gonna be happy when they see a bunch of candles on the ground, the smell of incense overpowering even the most powerful perfume.
The person starts collecting the candles and once again, my eyes fall on the door handle. I'll see who it is. I'll help them clean up.
Before I can work the courage, the person is finished. "It's been real," they say. "I hope you have better luck with romance."
They leave the bathroom. I am alone.
I cautiously creep out of the bathroom stall. There's still the smell of incense and lavender, but other than that, you wouldn't be able to tell that there was a ritual.
I close my eyes. If I try really hard, I could live in this bathroom forever, away from reality. I could live off sink water and steal food from the restaurant. There are even working toilets, so that's a bonus. I wouldn't see Aiden or Irene or any of my co-workers and everything would be fine.
Suddenly, a piercing scream cuts through the air. My eyes fly open.
Aiden.
I rush out of the women's bathroom and it takes me a moment to register where he is. I'm pounding the door, slamming on the only bathroom with a single toilet. If this were a bathroom with stalls, I would've been able to crawl under them—but it's not. I'm jingling the door handle like my life depends on it and a woman gives me a weirded-out look. I curse the locked door, beg it to open, throw the worst names at it. The door still remains locked.
I must look completely crazy as I run to a restaurant staff, nearly sobbing out an excuse about my son getting locked in the bathroom.
She looks concerned but hands me a key anyway because of my scary desperation. My hands are trembling, as I insert the key and turn. I push open the door slowly, heart pounding, blood rushing, and oh.
There's a dead body in the bathroom.
***
author's note: and that's chapter one! if you've enjoyed this so far, please vote and/or add a murderer's guide to fake dating to your reading list! also, definitely feel free to give me constructive criticism because i'm always looking to improve my writing *thumbs up*
anyway, this is my time to bombard ya'll with questions: what's your first impression of the story? what do you think of isla? aaand gimme predictions on what you think will happen in the book.
ok, that's all for today. but once again, thanks so much for reading!