Author's note: Enemies-to-lovers is one of my favourite romance tropes, although it's a bit of a trick to pull it off in a short story since it requires more of a slow burn than I have space for. This is why I'd like to state that this is a *story*--it's supposed to be fun and not necessarily realistic, although this one is based on true events. Also, bonus points if you can guess the song playing in the car.
It was 2:30 on a Friday afternoon, and Jace Marçeau's eyes darted toward the office clock every few seconds like he was expecting it to sprout legs and run. Surely it would suck to have to stay late just before the weekend to finish coding the programme he was working on, but it would suck worse to have to take it home.
"Will you stop wasting your time and help me?" Jace glared at his partner's computer adjacent to his, narrowing his walnut eyes at the card game his friend was playing. He put a hand to his curly, black hair, resisting the urge to pull out a clump in frustration. "Really, Bryce? You're fucking around with solitaire of all things at a time like this?"
"Calm down," Bryce replied, pushing his glasses back up on his nose as he looked up from his notepad. "I'm just working some stuff out on paper first. I stopped trying for the prepaid cards an hour ago." He minimised the window and the screen flipped back to one identical to Jace's.
"Prepaid cards?" Jace asked absentmindedly while his fingers raced to keep up with his brain.
"Yeah, that wasn't solitaire."
"Don't tell me you're still doing those ridiculous contests," Jace rolled his eyes, his agitation simmering somewhat now that he knew his colleague wasn't leaving him out to dry. He was sure half the office had already left. It was, after all, summer in Québec, and Montrealers in particular made it a priority to remain social.
"Hey man, knock it if you want, but I already won a $5 gift card for Donut World last month," Bryce gave him a sideways grin, his own fingers picking up speed as he glanced back and forth between his screen and his notebook. "Arcot is running a promotion to get more eyeballs on their website." Jace snorted.
"Arcot... the same Arcot Incorporated whose shitty service left everyone from Montreal to Hull in an Internet blackout last month? Aren't they satisfied they've already got their telecom monopoly in Canada? They keep eating up smaller providers every year."
"I am uninterested in the inner workings of the mega-corp that's offering free shit for playing a card game," Bryce muttered, squinting at his screen and deleting the last couple of lines he'd written. "I am very interested in the free shit."
Between the two of them, they managed to finish the bare bones of what their manager required Monday morning, and Jace finally cracked a smile when he fell back in his chair at 3:52 p.m.
"Okay, I'm curious," Jace turned to Bryce. "And I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I just wanted to go home without work weighing on my mind. What's the game about?" His partner smiled and maximised the other window.
"It's just blackjack, based on nothing but dumb luck," Bryce explained. "You start by choosing the category of prizes you're going after, and it inserts you into a game. If you go after the little prizes like coffee shop gift cards, it's easier to win. But if you go after the big ones, you have to win, like, 15 games in a row, and the odds of them letting you do that are slim to none."
"Meanwhile, Arcot's wireless and cable ads are running on the side," Jace noted. "They're probably getting back business where they're losing gift cards. Especially with weirdos like you who are on here all the time."
"I'm on the computer all day anyway," Bryce shrugged, while grabbing his lunch bag and satchel. "And it's mentally impossible to code for eight hours daily without dancing naked in the pond at Parc Lafontaine afterward.
"Speaking of which," he continued, "I'm on my way to a house party in a few hours. Wanna come with? I don't know anyone and I'd rather not stand by the snack table again."
"How'd you get invited?"
"The super at my building. The party's at his sister's building. He's nice but way too popular. Can't hang around him."
"I'll think about it," Jace said, the ghost of an idea forming in his head. "Text me the address." Bidding Bryce goodbye, he turned toward his computer and simply stared at it.
It's no different than a slot machine,
he thought about Arcot's blackjack game. He logged on to the site and perused the prize page.
They give enough people the tiny prizes to keep them coming back,
he thought,
and eventually, they'll think they can go after the $1000 gift cards and kitchen appliances.
He leaned back as far as he could without making his rolling chair tip over, then went to Arcot's Rules and Regulations page for the game and took several screenshots.
Then, inspired, Jace started fooling around with the outline of a program. Over the course of two hours, he kept adding layers to it until it had gotten away from him and he barely noticed the glow of the sun setting outside the screen door of his ground floor office.
Holy shit, that thing wrote itself,
he mused, finally tearing his eyes off the screen when he was ready to run a test. Setting it in motion, he grinned to himself. He'd made it so the cards were playing by themselves as long as he was logged in. Then he sat back down and made a modification.
No sense in wasting precious time on a bad game,
his eyes narrowed as he indicated to the program that it was to quit if it was on the brink of losing, then automatically try again. As an afterthought, he also logged onto Bryce's computer, copied his program onto it, and set it to automatically run as well.
DO NOT TURN OFF,
he scrawled on two pieces of paper to make it clear for the cleaning staff.
Amazing that I'm actually gonna look forward to coming in Monday morning.
He grabbed his shoulder bag and headed down Rue Saint Dominique to grab a bite at his favourite smoked meat deli, then pulled out his phone to text Bryce.
Still going to the party?
Yeah, man, I'm here and I'm already at the snack table,
came Bryce's reply but seconds later.
After walking only a few more blocks, Jace arrived at a brown brick mid-rise that looked like it was built in the 1950s. The bass beat from inside pounded harder after he took the industrial-style lift up to the 14
th
floor and approached the slightly ajar door. Letting himself in, he soon spotted Bryce.
"Yeah, I can see why you'd feel out of place here," Jace shouted against his friend's ear. "Too many pretty women."
"Leave me and my Cheetos alone," Bryce replied. The music was a little too techno for Jace's liking and he found himself needing to hear himself think after only 10 minutes. He motioned to Bryce that he was going up to the roof.
Fifteen floors is just about perfect,
he thought upon taking in the spectacular view of half the city, including Mount Royal in the distance. He wandered among the potted plants that lined the rooftop garden on his way to the building's edge, initially believing he was alone. But someone had beaten him there.