Page 27 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)
MIA
I stumbled out of Jack’s office in a daze, my fingers clutching the yellow post-it note like it contained nuclear launch codes. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Jack Sullivan. All those notes. They had all come from Jack.
The thought sent another wave of dizziness crashing over me.
He’d been leaving them since he first started at Catalyst, when he barely knew me.
Months of little yellow notes with words that had gotten me through some of my darkest moments.
But why had he started? And most importantly, what the fuck did it mean?
I spotted Emily by the copy machine, chatting with one of the accounting guys. Without thinking, I marched over and grabbed her by the elbow.
“Bathroom. Now,” I hissed, already pulling her away mid-sentence.
“What the actual fuck?” Emily protested, but allowed herself to be dragged down the hallway. “I was in the middle of asking Todd about his fantasy baseball league.”
I didn’t slow down, pushing through the bathroom door and immediately checking under each stall for feet. When I was certain we were alone, I turned to face Emily, who was leaning against the sink with her arms crossed.
“Okay, what’s happening? Did you finally snap and murder Porter? Because I’ve got an alibi prepared for exactly this scenario.”
“No, it’s not that.” I pulled the post-it from my pocket with trembling fingers and held it out to her. “Look.”
Emily squinted at the small square of yellow paper. “Is that an address? Wait, is that Jack’s address?” Her eyes widened comically. “Holy shit, are you going to his place? When did this happen? Did you kiss again? Are you fucking? Please tell me you’re fucking.”
“What? No! Emily, focus!” I tapped the paper urgently. “Look at the handwriting!”
“The handwriting?” She frowned, staring at the note with increasing confusion. “What about it? It’s neat, I guess. Kind of slanted. Very masculine. Probably writes with one of those fancy fountain pens that cost more than my car payment.”
“It’s JACK’S handwriting!” I exclaimed.
“Well, duh, who else’s would it be?” Emily rolled her eyes.
“It’s the same handwriting as the notes!” I almost shouted, my voice echoing slightly off the bathroom tiles.
Emily blinked at me. “What notes?”
“The notes! The post-it notes! The ones that keep showing up on my desk!”
Her frown deepened as she looked back down at the paper, then up at me, then back at the paper again. I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain before they finally clicked into place.
“Holy fucking shit,” she breathed, her eyes going wide. “Jack’s been leaving the notes? Your secret admirer has been Jack Sullivan this whole time?”
“Yes!” My voice came out as a strangled squeak. “He gave me his address, and I was leaving, and I looked at the note, and it just hit me. It’s the same handwriting. It’s been him all along.”
Emily snatched the post-it from my hand, holding it closer to her face as if it might reveal additional secrets under scrutiny. “But why... how... when did he...” She looked up at me, her expression somewhere between shock and glee. “What did he say when you confronted him?”
“He said he didn’t know why he did it. That he ‘just had to.’” I ran a hand through my hair, still trying to process everything. “And then I just kind of... left. Told him I’d see him at seven.”
“At seven?” Emily’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “What’s happening at seven?”
“I’m going to his place for a movie marathon. Operation UYD.”
Emily’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Operation Unfuck Your Day? You’re bringing out the big guns.” She grinned. “Remember when we did that for Maya after Nate O’Hare saw her naked? Three horror movies and enough ice cream to feed a small country.”
“Yeah, well, Jack looked like he could use it.” I took the post-it note back. “He came back from his trip away looking... I don’t know, haunted or something. I just wanted to help.”
Emily stared at me, then burst into laughter, the sound bouncing off the bathroom walls.
“Let me get this straight. You invited yourself over to your hot boss’s house for movies, he gave you his address, you realized he’s been your secret admirer for months, and your response was to say ‘see you at seven’ and walk out? ”
Put that way, it did sound completely insane. “I panicked, okay? What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, maybe kiss him again? Anything other than just leaving!”
“I told you, I panicked!” I carefully returned the note to my pocket. “This changes everything, Em. Those notes... they started weeks before the fake dating thing. Months, even. The first one showed up right after he started at Catalyst.”
Emily’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something more serious. “You know what this means, right? Your fake boyfriend might not be so fake after all.”
My heart did a somersault in my chest. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? He’s been anonymously encouraging you since day one. He offered to fake date you to protect you from your mother. He’s taking you to Paris, for fuck’s sake!”
“He might be taking me to Paris,” I corrected, though the distinction felt paper-thin at this point. “I haven’t said yes.”
Emily shook her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Mia, honey, this isn’t just office role-play anymore. The man has feelings for you. Like, real, actual, complicated feelings.”
“You don’t know that,” I protested weakly, but the denial sounded hollow.
“Either way, I think it’s time you asked yourself the big question.” Emily pressed, her eyes searching mine.
I was almost too afraid to ask. “Wh-what’s the big question?”
“What in the ever loving fuck is going on here?”
I stared at her, her words, forcing me to confront emotions I’d been desperately trying to ignore.
How did I feel about Jack Sullivan? The man who scowled at spreadsheets but looked at me with gentle eyes?
Who kissed me like I was something precious?
Who left notes reminding me of my worth when he thought no one was watching?
“I have no idea,” I said finally, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Because I did have an idea, and it terrified me. Denial land felt so much fucking safer than the truth.