Rumor Has It I'm Dating the Football Captain

Chapter 91: Chapter 91: The Rules Are Failing

The journalism office smelled heavily of burnt coffee and printer ink.

Ben stood over the main layout desk. He was aggressively pointing a red marker at a stack of freshly printed pages. His tie was undone, and his hair looked like a bird had tried to build a nest in it.

"This margin is completely unacceptable," Ben announced loudly to the empty room. "It is a visual tragedy. It looks like a toddler organized these columns."

Daisy sat at her desk in the corner. She was quietly clicking through a folder of digital photos. She wore a bright green oversized sweater today, trying to force herself into a cheerful mood.

She looked over at Ben. He was muttering angrily under his breath, drawing massive red circles on the paper.

Audrey’s advice echoed clearly in Daisy’s head. Find a distraction. Find someone who is the exact opposite of Leo.

Ben was definitely the exact opposite of a quiet, sweet football defender. Ben was a chaotic hurricane of deadlines and formatting rules.

Daisy took a slow, deep breath. She closed her photo editing software. She stood up, smoothed down her green sweater, and walked over to the layout desk.

"Ben," Daisy said softly.

Ben did not look up. He just kept scribbling. "Not right now, Preston. I am fighting a war against terrible page design."

"I was wondering," Daisy continued bravely, ignoring his panic. "Do you want to get dinner?"

Ben stopped moving. The red marker froze halfway across the paper. He slowly lifted his head and squinted at her. He looked incredibly confused.

"Dinner?" Ben repeated. He said the word like she had just suggested they go rob a bank.

"Yes," Daisy nodded. She tucked a piece of curly hair behind her ear. "Food. At a restaurant. Tonight."

Ben stared at her. He looked down at his chaotic desk, then back up at her face.

"Is this a trick?" Ben asked suspiciously. "Did Mrs. Higgins send you to distract me so she can approve the Arial font behind my back?"

Daisy let out a soft, genuine laugh. "Nobody is trying to trick you, Ben. I just thought we could go eat together. We have been working in this office for months, and we only ever eat cold vending machine snacks."

Ben considered this information. He tapped the red marker against his chin.

"I do enjoy hot food," Ben reasoned logically. "And the vending machine ravioli is starting to taste like cardboard."

"So it is a yes?" Daisy smiled.

"Fine," Ben grunted. He dropped the red marker onto the desk. "But we are going to the diner near the library. They have good lighting. And I am bringing these layout drafts with me. If we are eating, we are also editing."

Daisy felt a strange, happy flutter in her chest. It was not the massive, heart-stopping butterflies she used to get around Leo. It was just a quiet, comfortable feeling. Ben was ridiculous, but he was exactly what she needed right now.

"Deal," Daisy agreed. "But I get to order dessert."

Ben groaned loudly, rubbing his face with his hands. "Sugar causes a lack of focus, Preston. But fine. Bring your camera. We might see a poorly designed billboard on the way, and I want photographic proof of it for my editorial."

Daisy smiled widely. She turned around and walked back to her desk to pack up her bag.

For the first time in weeks, she was not thinking about Leo. She was not thinking about Chloe. She was just thinking about how she was going to survive a dinner date with a guy who wanted to aggressively critique local billboards.

It was a completely terrible idea, and Daisy was entirely excited.

The digital clock on Zoya’s nightstand flipped to exactly 9:00 PM.

The sharp, polite knock sounded at her apartment door exactly two seconds later.

Zoya stood in the middle of her bedroom. She was wearing her dark silk robe. Her hair was pulled back. She had spent the last three days trying to entirely forget the warm apple muffin Jackson had given her at the library.

Logic dictated that the muffin was an anomaly. It was a statistical outlier. Jackson was chaotic. He did not do sweet, thoughtful things.

She walked out of her bedroom and opened the front door.

Jackson stood in the hallway. He wore a plain black t-shirt and faded jeans. He looked massive, confident, and entirely too handsome.

"Tuesday at nine," Jackson announced. His deep voice rumbled quietly in the space.

"You are on time," Zoya noted stiffly.

She stepped aside to let him in. Jackson walked past her. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne instantly filled the apartment. Zoya locked the door and followed him into her bedroom.

She walked directly to her desk. She picked up the manila folder that contained their signed physical arrangement contract.

"Before we begin," Zoya stated clearly, keeping her eyes fixed on the paper. "We need to discuss a clear violation of terms."

Jackson stopped in the middle of the room. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked completely relaxed.

"A violation?" Jackson asked innocently.

"Section two," Zoya read out loud, her voice a little too fast. "Public behavior. You approached me outside the library on Friday. You initiated contact outside of our scheduled time frame."

Jackson watched her. He saw how tightly she was gripping the manila folder. Her knuckles were completely white.

"I brought you a muffin, encyclopedia," Jackson said softly.

"It was unnecessary," Zoya argued. She refused to look up from the paper. "It blurs the established boundaries. If we are going to continue this arrangement, you must adhere strictly to the schedule."

Jackson did not argue. He just walked closer.

He stepped right up to the edge of her desk. He reached out and gently took the manila folder completely out of her hands.

"Hey!" Zoya gasped, finally looking up.

Jackson tossed the folder onto the desk. He did not break eye contact.

"The contract is failing, Zoya," Jackson told her quietly.

"The contract is perfectly sound," Zoya insisted, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs. "You are just failing to execute the rules."

"Because the rules are stupid," Jackson replied bluntly.

He took another step closer, invading her personal space completely. Zoya felt her throat go dry.

"You wrote those rules because you are terrified," Jackson murmured. He reached up and gently touched the side of her neck. His thumb brushed over her racing pulse. "You are scared that if you actually let yourself feel something, you will lose control."

"I need control," Zoya whispered. She tried to step back, but her hips hit the edge of the wooden desk. She was completely trapped.

"No, you don’t," Jackson promised.

He leaned down and kissed her.

It was not a quick, scheduled kiss. It was slow, heavy, and completely distracting. Jackson wrapped his large hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly. He set her down on the edge of the desk, stepping right between her knees.

Zoya gasped softly into his mouth. All her logical defenses shattered into pieces.

She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She pulled him closer, her fingers tangling into his messy brown hair. She completely stopped thinking about the rules, the schedule, and the manila folder sitting right next to her on the desk.

Jackson kissed her jawline, moving down to her neck. His skin was incredibly hot.

"Tell me to leave," Jackson whispered against her skin. "Tell me you just want a business arrangement, Zoya, and I will walk out that door."

Zoya closed her eyes. Her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps.

She could not do it. The logic was completely gone. She wanted him to stay entirely too much.

"Do not leave," Zoya breathed.

Jackson let out a low, victorious rumble. He pulled her back into a deep kiss. The strict, clinical atmosphere of the bedroom was completely destroyed.

Zoya knew she was making a massive mistake. She was breaking her own rules. She was falling for the loudest, most chaotic guy on campus. It was statistically the worst decision she could possibly make.

But as Jackson held her tight against his chest, Zoya realized she did not care about the statistics anymore. The chaos felt incredibly good.