97. Weird Game. But game.

97. Weird Game. But game.
Emara Stone

“Good morning, Emara Stone. You are shining bright like the Sun today.” The robot at entrance cheerfully announces as I walk into HighBars headquarters. 

I smirk. Well, he is not wrong as today I am wearing my Prada Beauty Glow Highlighter. 

A girl has to look radiant even when her life is a complete dumpster fire.

I spot Evil Butt Prince ahead of me, and I immediately hide from him. I am not in the mood for another I-want-to-marry-you-Amara episodes.

After playing hide and seek, I finally reach my floor and claim my throne, that is the intern’s chair. 

Dropping my resigning plan temporarily, I decide to actually start working on the report that strip-demon is so obsessed over.

Suddenly, I notice a pink box in my drawer, next to the dried rose from yesterday. I open it carefully and find a strawberry muffin with a handwritten note sticking on the lid..

‘A cupcake for my Cupcake <3’

My blood pressure spikes seeing the note. Yesterday, this man treated me like a cheap slut, ordered me to strip in his office like I was his private show.

And now he is calling me ‘my cupcake’.

But I don’t explode. 

I don’t lose my chill. 

I don’t throw the muffin at the nearest wall.

I simply stand up with the pink box in my hand and walk towards his cabin with the nonchalantness of American Psycho.

“Mr. Black called me.” I lie flatly, stopping at his secretary’s desk.

She doesn’t question me and I push the door open, walking inside the Mad King’s chamber like a maniac I am.

Dakota as usual is sitting in his CEO chair, finger fucking his laptop with intense concentration.

I calmly place the pink box in the dead center on his desk, and he pauses, looking up at me with eyebrows flying high.

I meet his eyes with zero expression and state, “I am on diet.”

“Emara.. I” But I don’t wait for his TED-talk and turn around to walk out. 

No yelling.

No dramatic exit. 

Just pure, unbothered silence.

I head straight to the cafeteria to treat myself with cold coffee. Ana was correct! 

I react, that’s why he acts more. Now I’ll just behave like Axolotl. Just look pretty and smile.

After my forty five minutes of coffee break, I return to my desk to complete the reports, when I spot something unusual in my drawer.

A red tomato.

What the fuck a vegetable is doing here?

I notice how it is sitting on a note that says.. ‘I love you from my head to-ma-toes <3’

I slowly turn my head towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and raise my middle finger with zero hesitation.

Fuck you, Mr. Black!

“Why are you showing finger to the camera?” A voice suddenly whispers right next to my ear.

I nearly jump out of my chair and spin around, coming face-to-face with an ugly frog in human form.

Not this toe-face foot-licker again!

Daniel slips into the chair beside me, wearing a red shirt, covered in literal flames and a pair of pink glasses that somehow make his entire outfit even more bizarre to the eyes.

“I didn’t know you had sneeze-o-phrenia, chica. Get well soon.” He looks at me with concern.

“No, Daniel.” I grit my teeth, “I do not have schizophrenia.”

He completely ignores the correction and continues, “You are not replying to my calls, messages, DMs. I was worried you lost your phone.”

I scoff at the delulu clown, “I am not receiving your calls because I am mad at you.”

“Oh, why?” Daniel raises his eyebrows in pure shock, as if he has zero clue.

“Did you even think twice before bringing those bikini girls to the party?” I snap.

“Twice? I didn’t even think once.” He smirks, completely unbothered.

“What do you even eat to be like this?” I shake my head disturbingly.

“Well.. The first thing I have after waking up is weed.” He answers like a serious nutritionist.

“Maybe you should try something healthy, like an omelet in the morning.” I stare at him.

“Omelet?” Daniel laughs out loud, “Pff!” You can’t smoke omelet, chica!”

God! He smoked his brain.

His eyes suddenly drop to my open drawer, and he spots the red tomato sitting there with the note. He unfolds the paper and reads it out loud..

“I love you from my head to-ma-toes.” Then looks at me with heart eyes, “Awww, chica! I love you too.”

Before I could correct his delulu brain, he takes a huge, chunky bite out of the tomato.

“You got game. Freaky, slightly weird game.. But game.” He chews thoughtfully.

I roll my eyes, before focusing back on my computer. 

“What are you doing?” The weirdo asks after finishing the tomato.

“Researching. It’s a fun little addictive game.” I explain like he is a three year old kid.

“I know this feeling.” He says in a serious tone, “I was once addicted to porn. I used to watch it daily.. In college. In class. In canteen. On dinner table. While having dinner.”

My eyes widen at his bizarre confession.

“But now, I have watched it all.” He states proudly, “There is simply no more left.”

Daniel smiles like a clean druggie, “Now I am no more addicted.”

I blink at him, utterly traumatised by this conversation, and his existence.

Suddenly, the ugly frog leans closer, squinting at my face, “Hey.. Is this the same glitter you put on me that day?”

His hands reach out, squeezing my cheeks, “Looks cute on you.”

My soul tries to leave my body as I realise these are the same hands that have touched his own thing and jerked it at least ten times a day, are now squishing my face.

The mental image is so vivid that I can practically hear the wet sound effects.

Ughhh!

I feel every single one of my organs cringing in a full concert, and I shoot up from my chair like a rocket.

“I have to go.. Pee. It’s urgent. Life or death situation.” I say something stupid, but not enough stupid than Daniel.

“Yeah. You should definitely go. It happened to me one time..” He suddenly continues with another weird story.

“There was this charity gala, and I had drank eight glasses of sparkling water, when the host announced a surprise forty-minutes violin performance. I told myself to be strong and I controlled for almost fifty minutes.”

I stand there clutching my fists, while he keeps on going, “After the performance, I stood up and everyone thought I wanted to give a speech. So they handed me the mic and dragged me onto the stage.”

He sighs dramatically.

“My knees were touching each other while I was speaking in front of eight hundred people. I don’t remember what I spoke, but they never called me again to any of their gala parties.”

Without saying a word, I quietly turn and start walking towards the elevator like I am playing a do-not-look-back-or-you-die game.

I head straight to the cafeteria for another 45 minutes coffee break. 

And I don’t even like coffee.