I settle deeper into the office chair as Kate’s lineup of ridiculous office supplies catches my eye. Ialmostchuckle. For someone so bratty, Kate has a quirky side that she rarely lets anyone see.
The evidence of her conference room theft sits in the corner. How many times did she check me out from it when she thought I wasn’t looking? Five? Six? My chest pounds harder for a second before I tell it to knock it off.
Sure, Kate Chen is still attracted to me, but she seems to hate it.
I mean, she claims it’smeshe hates, but an idiotic part of myself keeps holding out until she loses that argument with herself.
Why? I’m honestly still not sure.
Yeah, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, but it’s not like she’s a saint. I know I messed things up between us six years ago, but it wasn’t all my fault. She hurt me too, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it—or her.
Pathetic.I swallow and take a deep breath. Pullingup my calendar, I make a note to call Mr. Winthrop in three weeks.
A long exhale deflates my chest. It probably looked like a jerk move to take over Kate’s phone call. But really, I only stepped in because I couldn’t take Mr. Winthrop’s disgusted tone and one word answers to Kate.
As much as I enjoy the world of art and the interesting people I get to meet, I’ve met too many men like Mr. Winthrop. They oozepatriarchal favoritism, and it pisses me off. Just because Kate is a woman doesn’t mean she’s not great at her job. In fact, she’s better than me in most areas. But sales? Sales aremyexpertise.
I check the time, just now noticing the echo of hunger in my stomach. I shoot a text to Val.
BRANDON: Hey. Burger Grillz on Fourth Street?
VAL: Sorry, man. Just got here. Had a thing at Anthony’s school.
BRANDON: No biggie.
I set my phone down, repositioning my cuffed sleeves across my forearms as I eye the grant application on my screen. I’d really like to send it off by the end of the day. Maybe I’ll just drop by the museum cafeteria on the first floor and grab something quick instead of going to Burger Grillz.
I stride into the hallway and see Amantha heading toward me on her way to the copy room. Wordlessly, we lift our hands and high five as we pass. It’s dumb, but the first month I started here, Amantha awkward-ed out in the hallway and high-fived me instead of waving, or whatever she was trying to do with her hand. So now, it’s tradition.
But before Amantha disappears into the copy room, she calls over her shoulder, voice teasing.
“Hey, how’s your jaw?”
“Never better,” I laugh, rubbing the fading bruise from Kate’s punch.
“I bet.” Amantha winks.
I’m still chuckling as I make my way down the ramp of The Spiral. I pass a gaggle of three kids with an exhausted-looking mother. Their eyes are alight with wonder as they giggle at the prismatic circles of light refracted from the skylight above. A little girl with silky blonde curls and flushed cheeks tries to catch one, making her brothers laugh.
Once I get the mom’s permission, I pull a roll of “I Heart Art” stickers from my pocket and give one to each child. The oldest boy immediately pokes it onto his brother’s forehead, and a fight breaks out. The mom flails as she tries to separate the two, threatening them within an inch of their video games at home. She offers an apology, which I wave away.
“You guys have fun,” I say.
“Thanks, mister,” the little girl squeaks up at me before the mother guides her and the bickering brothers away. I chuckle to myself, feeling energized as I stroll the rest of the way to the cafeteria.
Ten minutes later, I scroll my social media as I tuck into my burger and fries. It’s not nearly as good as Burger Grillz, but it’s fine.
Rick, the gray-haired facilities manager, ambles into the seating area holding a wrapped sandwich, and I wave him over.
Rick’s prickled face splits into a grin. He scoots onto the bench across from me in his blue industrial jumpsuit. His eyes twinkle as he takes in my massive burger.
“I remember the days when I could eat like that and still fit in my jumpsuit.” He pats the slight curve of his stomach with an age-freckled hand.
I laugh, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “Don’t believe it for a second, Rick. I’ve seen your wife, and she’s a looker. She’s lucky to have a handsome guy like you.”
Rick chortles, “Flip that saying right-side-up, and I’ll agree with you.”
I grin. Rick has the weirdest way of explaining his wisdom. Val and I once paid Rick a visit for one of his geriatric poker nights, and I swear I left feeling more enlightened than I’ve ever been.
