DESIRE ME IF YOU CAN [EN] - Chapter 28

For firefighter applicants, they had produced and uploaded several videos. One of them compared good and bad examples for interview preparation...

“He said the exact same things?”

“Yes.”

Seeing the Chief nod, Wilkins chuckled in disbelief.

“Guy's got zero common sense. Is it a rich kid thing? Who copies that stuff exactly?”

“Right.”

The Chief agreed, but his main point followed.

“My point is, he copied everything—down to the finger gestures. That's the problem.”

Wilkins blinked, his smile freezing on his face.

“...What?”

At the foolish question, the Chief snapped back several times faster than usual.

“Not just the answers. He mimicked the whole video—expressions, fingers, even the way his eyes moved when he cleared his throat! He did that for every question!”

At the unexpected remark, Wilkins just went blank. People often memorized answers from the video, but that was usually the extent of it. Copying even the gestures perfectly?

“B-but you must have asked questions not in the video... right?”

“Of course. But he probably copied those exactly from some other video too. I haven't checked, but I'm certain.”

Seeing Wilkins speechless, the Chief pressed him roughly.

“Get it now? The guy's a psycho. So just leave him alone before something happens. Don't touch him! We don't know what he might do. Grayson Miller must be an Extreme Alpha driven mad by pheromones; he's not right in the head!”

Wilkins could only say, “Understood.”

Amidst the confusion, regret suddenly welled up in his chest for having done something unnecessary.

***

“To today's winner, cheers!”

At Valentina's shout, the gathered women cheered, raising their beer glasses. Grayson, the only man among them, sat smiling as they toasted, emptying their glasses together.

“We ended up coming here after all.”

At Liz's remark, another employee spoke up.

“Can't beat the usual spot. Plus, this place is decent for a group gathering.”

There were only a handful of places that could accommodate this many people. That was why they naturally came to this bar whenever they had a company dinner or gathering. It was the same place where they had held the welcome party when Grayson arrived.

“The guys could've joined us, but nope.”

When Valentina popped a French fry into her mouth, glancing to one side, everyone's gaze gathered in the same direction. Employees who had departed from the same place sat divided into groups at two large tables placed side by side: Grayson and the female staff, and Wilkins and the male staff. The atmosphere at the tables contrasted just as much as the gender ratio.

Hearing the obvious voices, DeAndre spat out roughly.

“Buzz off. Unlike you, we're not mooching off that bastard.”

“Just the guys tonight. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Wilkins quickly stepped in to decline politely. The Chief's warning still rang vividly in his ears. For a brief moment, Wilkins imagined a fight breaking out between the two tables, ending with an enraged Grayson flipping the table to smash a bottle over DeAndre's head with a smile. The Chief's words that Grayson himself, not just being a Miller, was the problem, were true.

Ahem. When Wilkins cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to drink beer, the women turned their heads as if to say suit yourself, surrounding Grayson again.

In truth, honestly, they couldn't care less about the guys' bruised egos. Their recent behavior had looked quite pathetic. Listening to the women laugh and chat about whatever was so amusing, the men silently downed their beer.

If they had gone to another place, it wouldn't have been this miserable. Fired up by the news that Grayson was buying drinks, they had acted on impulse, overlooking the fact that there was no other suitable place to go. Trying to drink while sitting next to a lively table just killed the mood.

“Yo, is this a funeral? Why the long faces?”

When DeAndre shouted in a hushed voice, unable to stand it, Ezra replied.

“Well... there's nothing particularly fun, is there...?”

At the reaction of the guys exchanging glances in agreement, DeAndre burst with frustration, widening his eyes.

“So you're just gonna sit here moping? Look over there, we can't lose! Everyone smile, laugh I say!”

The colleagues exchanged glances, reluctantly forcing out laughter. DeAndre laughed loudly, slapping his thigh as if to show off.

“Wahahaha, hahahaha! Wahahahaha!”

“Ah... haha, hahaha.”

“Haha, haha, hahaha.”

The other guys laughed along, copying DeAndre. Even while doing so, they glanced at the next table; the women had absolutely no interest in them. Raising your voice just to get the attention of a girl you liked—wasn't that something grade schoolers did?

“Cut it out. You look pathetic.”

At Ezra's restraint, everyone including DeAndre fell silent. Why did things turn out like this? Drinking in the gloomy atmosphere again, Wilkins, who had emptied his beer, put down the glass and suddenly spoke.

“Losing the match? Fine, happens. But there's one thing I don't get.”

As everyone looked at him at the sudden remark, Wilkins fixed his gaze on Dane, asking.

“What on earth happened? Leaving aside that you were late, there's no way you were just late, right? Something definitely happened. What does everyone think? Am I right?”

“That's right. Dane, we're dying of curiosity. How did that bastard beat you?”

DeAndre asked rapidly. Receiving gazes mixed with curiosity and anxiety, Dane answered indifferently.

“Nothing much. Just traded a few punches.”

“You fought? Why?”

“Suddenly?”

Everyone asked for the reason in surprise, yet Dane didn't answer. Only DeAndre downed his beer nervously. Without looking at him, Dane said.

“Just felt like punching him.”

What kind of answer was that? Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment; the statement wasn't entirely out of nowhere. Ezra nodded in agreement.

“True. I fight the urge to punch him every day.”

“Just like right now?”

When one person agreed, confessions poured out one after another.

“Can't tell you how many times I've thought about locking him in the warehouse.”

“I thought about puncturing those fancy Jaguar tires.”

“Anyway, I could die happy if I just got to punch that pretty face once.”

“Don't waste a wish on that. Use it for something important. Like winning the Powerball.”

“This bastard?”

After a round of chastising the traitor, the conversation continued.

“Fighting is fighting, but why were you late?”

At Ezra's question, Dane paused briefly before speaking.

“We almost fell off a cliff while fighting...”

“What? A cliff?”

“That place at the end of the slope? Wow, that was really dangerous!”

As everyone shouted in shock, Dane answered nonchalantly.

“Don't freak out. Nothing happened.”

Half true, half false. Luckily, they didn't fall off the precipice; they ended up in a situation where they had to climb up a sheer cliff. They had been beating each other up just moments before, but the situation no longer allowed for that. Survival took priority, so they had to find a way to scale the wall. Soon, they both spotted the route almost simultaneously. And...

Bringing the beer glass to his lips, Dane added lightly.

“We almost fell, we climbed out. Miller was faster. End of story.”

As he summarized reality drastically, one of the guys who had been looking at each other skeptically asked.

“Be honest though, you could have won, right? Huh?”