MELODY
....

Monday comes faster than I want, like a freight train of pain and discomfort barreling toward me. Monday means more torture in form of exercises.

Monday means more of Stephanie.

After the awkwardness on Saturday, I don't know how she’ll show up today. Will she be cold? Will she pretend Saturday didn’t happen?

I have no idea what to expect, and that’s exciting.

Jeremiah is already awake, dressed in a suit and tie, and sipping his coffee when I limp into the kitchen. I’m half asleep and moving like a zombie, my leg still sore from yesterday’s exercises.

Stephanie's voice kept bugging me to do a little stretch so I couldn't help it.

Jeremiah has probably been up since dawn. He never stops, even on weekends. I sometimes wonder if he knows what the word rest means.

“Want me to make you a coffee?” he asks, looking over at me from his spot at the counter.

I don’t dispute it. I nod, limping over to one of the barstools and plopping down.

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

I watch him work, noticing how much quieter he’s been over the weekend. He was gone most of the time, leaving me alone to suffer through my recovery. It’s like he’s avoiding me.

Or maybe he’s just doing his usual thing where he burns the candle at both ends.

I don’t know.

He hands me my coffee, and I sip it gratefully. The warmth settles into my chest, but it doesn’t take away the tightness in my muscles.

Jeremiah’s phone buzzes, and I glance over to see him pull it out. It’s from my mom. He holds it up, showing me the message.

“Mom says ‘hi.’”

I just nod, my head too heavy for more words.

“She also said you’re getting so much better.”

I nod again, not feeling it today.

“I think you’re getting better and that soon, you’ll be back to basketball.” Jeremiah pauses to study me. “You just need to stick it out with Stephanie, alright? I know she’s—well, she’s a bit tight, but just try to get along with her.”

Tight is an understatement. She’s like a walking, talking stress ball. But whatever.

I don't argue. “I’ll try.”

Jeremiah ruffles my hair and kisses my forehead. I feel like I’m ten again and it makes my insides warm.

Stephanie meets Jeremiah by the door and I hear them exchange pleasantries.

When the foot closes and I hear footsteps approaching, I freeze, the warm coffee cup in my hand suddenly feeling too heavy.

I don’t think I'm ready to see those hypnotizing blue eyes.

She walks in like she owns the place. I watch her closely, trying to figure out what kind of mood she’s in.

Today, her blonde hair isn’t tied back in the usual tight ponytail. Instead, it’s down in soft, wavy layers that brush against her shoulders, looking somehow even more perfect than when she tries.

She’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Basic, but she’s Stephanie, so it’s like her looking basic makes her the hottest person in the room.

People probably look at her and think wow, she could wear a trash bag and still turn heads. The world really isn’t fair.

She offers me a polite smile, and I force one back. My leg aches and I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, but I make sure to sit up straighter when she walks over to the barstool across from me.

She plops down and for a second, it’s like nothing has changed. Like she is still the little annoying woman who forces me to exercise.

But something has changed. Even if none of us refuse to acknowledge it.

“How was your weekend?” she asks, her voice light, but I can tell it’s a little guarded, like she’s not sure where we stand after Saturday.

“Good,” I reply. I mean, it was fine. I spent most of it sulking around the house. “You?”

“Good.” She’s so nonchalant about it, it almost makes me want to laugh. I don’t, though.

Silence stretches between us, the weird kind.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

I hesitate.

“Not really,” I admit.

She frowns. “Dude, I'm doing this for you,” she says like she doesn't believe I would even pull that off.

I roll my eyes. I already know that.

“You know what would be fun though? Something that's going to make all this bearable,” I say, taking a dip from my coffee.

She tilts her head slightly, looking at me. I can see the gears turning in her head but she has no idea what's coming.

“What?” she asks.

“It's not a secret that I hate doing your exercises. But if you make a deal with me to do something else that I want in return, I think I might actually put in the effort,” I say with a sprinkle of mischief to my voice.

She shakes her head, looking at me like I've grown a second head.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m the one doing you a favor here,” she says, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “This is for your benefit not mine.”

I just stare at her, deadpan. “And you’re getting paid. A lot.”

Her eyes narrow, probably realizing where I’m going with this. “You wouldn't dare.”

I shrug, knowing I have all the cards with me. And I hate how I'm playing this but it's the only way.

“I could just snap my fingers and you would be fired.”

She sucks in a breathe, eyes in mine.

“What do you want?”

“Simple,” I say, leaning forward. I can almost hear her brain calculating, trying to figure out how she can get out of this. “Deal or no deal?”

She glares at me like she’s trying to burn a hole through my skull with just her eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Big one.” I grin, and she mutters something under her breath. It’s only a matter of time before she caves.

She sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

I feel the victory surge in me. I knew she would give in. “Good.”

I smirk, knowing I’ve got her right where I want her. This is going to be so much fun.