I was still sitting at my desk when I clicked open the email from HR. The subject line seemed normal enough, but as I scrolled through the message, my stomach dropped.
You have been assigned a cabin for the upcoming off-site creative retreat. Your cabinmate will be...
I stopped reading right there. I didn't need to see more. My heart raced, and my mind immediately rejected what I was reading. No. Please, no.
Tristan.
It was like a punch to the gut. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. This couldn’t be happening. I clicked back and forth through the email, double-checking for a typo, anything that would change what I was reading. But there it was clear as day.
This couldn’t be real because the last person I wanted to be stuck with on a retreat in the middle of nowhere was him. My chest tightened at the thought of spending a day with Tristan. Alone. In a cabin. I’d rather gouge my eyes out.
I swore under my breath, rubbing my temples. Just as I was about to hit the HR department’s number to complain, the office door swung open.
Tristan.
He stormed in, eyes dark, clearly furious. His tie was half-undone, and his blazer was wrinkled, like he’d been wrestling with someone. I didn’t need to ask. I could hear the raised voices from down the hall.
“Can you believe this?” He didn’t even look at me as he stormed across the room. “Some intern screwed up the assignments. Now I’m stuck with you, of all people, for a day in a cabin. I’m not doing it.” I bit back the urge to respond with a snarky comment. As much as I hated him right now, the last thing I wanted to do was fuel this fire.
“I was just about to complain too,” I said dryly, turning my attention back to my screen. “I can’t believe they stuck us together. This is a mistake.”
Tristan dropped into the chair next to me with a huff. “Don’t even bother complaining. Apparently, the intern messed up, and now they can’t fix it because the event is tomorrow. They don’t have an extra cabin for us. It’s either we use the cabin together or both can’t go. I mean if you prefer to stay at home will be better. So we’re stuck with each other. Great.” He glared at me, his hands fidgeting with his tie.
I could feel the anger building in my chest. The idea of being confined with him for a day? No way. I should’ve just left the company and gone to the beach for a weekend instead of being subjected to this.
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my time than being stuck with you.”
He leaned back, letting out a frustrated laugh. “Well, Mia, I don’t want to be stuck with you either, but here we are. Maybe the universe is punishing us both.”
I leaned in, my voice low. “The universe didn’t do this. You did, remember? You’ve made my life hell for years, and now I get to pay for it.”
“Oh, now we’re blaming me?” Tristan shot back, his gaze narrowing. “Maybe you’re the one who can’t let go. You act like I’m the one who ruined your life.”
I wanted to throttle him. The urge to smack his head, to strangle him until he couldn’t speak anymore, bubbled up in me. The rage was almost uncontrollable.
I caught myself before I said something I would regret. This was ridiculous. What if I had the urge to poison his drink just to make him shut up? What if I actually killed him?
The idea of being forced into the same cabin, locked in a small space with him, made me want to scream. But there was no escape., “I guess I see you tomorrow roommate.” He winked at me and walked away.
***
The retreat day came and I had barely slept the night before. The thought of spending a day in a tiny cabin with Tristan was too much to process. I kept imagining all the ways things could go wrong—how I could lose my temper and throw him out the window.
I hadn’t even gotten inside the cabin before Tristan’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Here we are,” he said from behind me, a smirk already playing at the corners of his lips. “I hope you’re ready for the worst day of your life, Mia.”
I rolled my eyes, opening the door to the cabin. It was small, cozy, just the two of us. I couldn’t have asked for a worse situation if I tried.
The second I walked in, he was on my heels, stepping into the small living room like he owned the place. He flopped down onto the couch like he was settling in for a movie night.
“What now?” I snapped, trying to ignore how close he was.
“I don’t know,” Tristan said, a gleam in his eyes. “Maybe we can get to know each other better. You know, bond.” He threw me a lazy grin. “What do you think?”
“Ugh, kill me now,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
We spent the next few hours fighting over every little thing. It was as if we couldn’t exist in the same space without bickering. I don’t even remember how it started, but Tristan and I were exchanging insults like they were our favorite pastime. His voice cut through the air, sharp and teasing, each word designed to rile me up.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Tristan mocked, leaning back on the couch. “I thought you’d be more creative by now.”
“Oh, shut up,” I snapped. “I’m so sick of hearing your voice. You’ve got nothing better to do than sit there and make everything worse.”
We continued to argue back and forth, the insults flying, until—bam—I tripped over my own feet. I fell forward and landed on top of him, my face inches away from his.
For a split second, everything froze. My heart slammed against my chest as I realized how close we were. Our lips were so close that I could feel his breath. My body was pressed against his, and for a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming.
This cannot be happening.
I quickly scrambled to get off of him, feeling the heat of my face spread across my cheeks. This was the worst thing that could happen. Being trapped like this, so close to him... I couldn’t stand it. But Tristan wasn’t helping. He grinned up at me, his dark eyes glimmering. “Well, that was fun.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, quickly grabbing a pillow off the couch and shoving it into his face.
He pretended to struggle for air, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Mia! I can’t breathe!” I watched him, my heart racing, before I lost my patience completely. My hands clenched around the pillow, and I hit him over the head as hard as I could. He fell back, off the couch, hitting the floor with a thud. I stood there, staring down at him, wondering if I was going to survive this without completely losing control.
He laughed from the floor, rubbing his head. “You’re really something, you know that?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, glaring at him. My cleavage was clearly on display, and I could see Tristan's eyes flicker downward for a split second before meeting my eyes again.
I shot him a pointed look. “I swear, Tristan, I will end you.”
He grinned, the same cocky smile that always drove me crazy. “You’re already playing with fire, Mia. Might as well embrace it.”
My heart was still pounding from the closeness of our fight, but I refused to show it. I wasn’t going to let him see how much he affected me. I’d been thrown into this twisted game. The question was: who was going to get burned first? I hope it’s not me.