I have only two things I hate in this world. Pineapples on pizza, and negative people. Unfortunately for me, the heavens decided to punish me for an unknown sin, by sending Satans spawn down to earth and into my office. Did I say Satans spawn? I meant Daniel.

The only way I can describe him is a walking, talking news channel, blasting all but the worst terror going on in the world. If he talks about taxes one more time I swear he won’t be alive to file them!

Today is going to be even more dreadful than the rest since we’ll both be staying overnight working on the pitch for Crappy’s Chocolates. Yep, that’s the name of the business and why we’ll need to spend extra time on it. The name explains the product pretty well too.

I throw my handbag that’s way to small and way to heavy on my desk. I let my limbs go limp, and fall back into my chair which rolls and bumps into the wall.

“Making a commotion already?”

I look up to find none other than Satans little spawn.

“Not now Daniel” I say, massaging my temples and dragging my chair back to the desk.

“Ah” he says, neatly placing his jacket on his chair and sitting across the room on his desk. “Mentally preparing yourself for defeat?”

I rack my brain trying to remember what on earth he can be referring to. “Crappy’s Chocolates pitch?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t care if your pitch gets chosen. I wouldn’t want Crappy chocolates as my big break.”

He surprisingly laughs, shaking his head while reclining on his chair.

“You really don’t pay attention when I talk.”

“Why would I?” My brows quirk upwards, but my gaze shifts to my very old and very slow computer that chooses to be a burden today.

“Because” he sighs. “Then you would know that whoever gets picked also gets chosen to open for all new spring luxury brands.”

I slam my computer down, blinking rapidly. “Excuse me?” That is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. One small company presentation for a chocolate brand named Crappy’s will determine who gets to represent our most importantly clients? “That is absolutely ridiculous.”

“It is” he agrees for once. “I sense Lopez is trying to create tension in the office. He’s doing the same with graphics and web.”

“Why would he do that?”

His lips curl up, and I already know the answer. Because Lopez is cruel. He likes fighting. I remember the first fight I had with Daniel in the cafe when he blatantly called pigs delicious in front of a girl who’s pet pig just died. We were close to ripping out each other’s throats, and Lopez sat in delight, occasionally feeding the fire with snide remarks. Daniel loves this about him, I added him to my list of unfavorable people, right bellow Daniel.

We go back to working, and the hours tick by so quick I don’t even notice when the sky has grown dark and the building has emptied. It’s only me, Daniel, the two men from graphics, and the two women from web, each in different floors wanting to rip out their coworkers throats.

Every here and there Daniel makes a discouraging comment, or tells me about the child labor behind chocolate and cocoa picking. I focus on getting work done.

“Are you hungry?” He asks to my surprise, pulling his phone out of his briefcase.

“Yes” I say in a whisper, lost in thought. What is he going to say next, to bad?

“I’ll order pizza.”

My brows furrow in suspicion, and he notices.

“If you want.”

“Yes” I say again almost to quickly. The hunger of only eating breakfast catches up to me, and I wonder if the iceman has melted a little.

He orders the pizza on his phone, and we go back to silence. My presentation is going well, but I worry while presenting I won’t contain my laughter when I have to say, ‘gooey and chewy Crappy chocolates.”

Daniel goes downstairs and picks up the pizza, bringing it back up to the office. My stomach churns in delight, but I try not to express my eagerness to much.

“Tha-“ before I finish my sentence, he opens the pizza box. And behold, he ordered a pineapple pizza.

“I heard about your infatuation with pineapple pizza” he says, bitting his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

I scrunch my nose, closing the pizza box and this time he really does laugh. A laugh I have never heard and equally despise as much as his scowl.

“Thank you. For nothing.”