Boomerang by Noelle August

terminal—style that’s been watered down to accommodate the masses—but I’m not sure how much I should say with Candy standing right here.
    Mia’s mouth pulls into a grimace. “Blech? Uninspired?”
    I nod. “Yeah. And predictable.”
    “And generic . It’s almost corporate .” Mia says the words like they’re blasphemous, and I remember learning yesterday that her mother is an artist. A photographer. “And forgettable.”
    “Yep,” I agree. “I can’t even remember what we’re looking at.”
    Mia shakes her head, getting more and more worked up. “I mean, what’s the message of this?” She faces me. “Does anything about this make you want to have fun? Does it even remotely put you in a sexy mood?”
    “No, but that bed does.”
    Mia’s head whips to the mattress booth, her hair spilling over one shoulder. “Really? Even the cheesy satin sheets?”
    “Hell, yeah. They look like a slippery good time to me.” The fact that we’re in a booth warehouse does nothing to deter my sexual imagination. I could seriously get down to some business on that bed with her. “What do you say, Curls? Should we throw some sex organs around?”
    She breaks into a smile. “Well, when you make it sound so appealing.”
    Candy’s hand snaps to her hip, the movement as sharp as a military salute. “What a lovely surprise,” she says. “I thought neither of you would understand a single thing about booth design. Turns out you’re both geniuses!”
    She swivels on a heel and marches off, just like Cookie.
    “Nice going, genius,” Mia mouths accusingly as we follow. She gives me a playful shove on the shoulder, so I push her back.
    And so it begins again.
    We did this earlier in the parking lot and my arms ended up around her. I’m not sure what the deal is exactly, but my body seems to jump at any opportunity to touch her. When she pushes me the next time, I make a quick move, lifting her easily over my shoulder.
    Mia gives the tiniest squeak, her body tensing, and I freeze, waiting for Candy to turn around, but she doesn’t.
    At this point a few things fire off in my head.
    First and foremost is the fact that my hand is on Mia’s ass. She’s soft and curved in all the right places, and her weight feels amazing. Holding her feels amazing. I’m extremely tempted to make a break for the mattress booth and lay her out on all that satin.
    Second is the concept of me flirting with the girl who could potentially take my job from me, which is a bit of a buzzkill.
    And third is the security camera that hangs down from the ceiling. Whoever’s watching on the other end, Mia and I are making their day.
    I take a few steps like I’m carrying her off to bed until she gives me a solid jab to the ribs. Then I set her down reluctantly.
    Through the thin silk of her dress, I feel her shape slip through my fingers as she slides down the length of me—the curve of her waist, and the groove of her spine, the angles of her shoulder blades—before she finds her feet.
    For a long moment, we’re pressed against each other and there’s no hiding the truth, the physical truth of how I react to her. I am hard as steel for her, but the expression on her face isn’t surprise. Mia knows she turns me on. What I see in her eyes is uncertainty. A kind of shadow pain.
    We draw apart awkwardly, looking everywhere except at each other. Silently, Mia catches up with Candy, but I need a few seconds. Not only to get my dick to calm down, but because I need to get my anger under control, too.
    What did I do wrong? I definitely just crossed some kind of line. Did this internship get into her head? The fact that we’re competing? Or is it something with her ex? But that can’t be it. She’s been single for a whole year.
    Why the hell am I spinning on this anyway? I should be glad she has some kind of hang-up about being with me. I should be fucking thrilled about it.
    Candy is waiting for us at a larger booth around the corner, her arms