Photo of lady in a red blouse selling insurance. Yup.
Point to the photo. Click the photo. Drag to the template. Release.
Confirm the spelling of her name.
Export to PDF.
Send to the lady in the red blouse.
Emmaline rubbed at her eyes. Only twenty more to go.
This was a good stopping point. Then again, every spot in this job was a good stopping point. Ugh. She wanted to enjoy this so much more.
Like the time she sawPhantom of the Operaat The Buell? Everyone raved about it. Said it was the best thing ever. But she’d been recovering from the stomach flu and, honestly, she just wanted to vomit all over the chandelier when it fell on cue.
Fiona and Annie had started summer break at a day camp with their friend, Harmony. So even they couldn’t keep her entertained in Em’s downtime.
Of course, the girls still asked her to doodle a lot. She appreciated it. The mini-not-Ethan-chef series had also become her secret refuge, a place where her creative spirit could roam. The sterile font that seemed to dominate her work life didn’t belong there.
In these stolen moments, she could breathe, she could dream, and her imagination could soar. Scribbling wasn’t confined to uniformity in those moments.
Last week, she’d suggested matching a sans serif font for variety in one of the branding meetings, but the higher-ups at the insurance company shot that down faster than a Top Gun fighter pilot.
Given their unwillingness to consider another font choice, one could easily imagine how her suggestion of adding a pop of yellow to the tedious red color scheme went over.
She should go see what Ethan was up to. That was an acceptable thing for a counterfeit girlfriend, right? She was still sorting out the nuances of this artificial romance.
They’d agreed to keep a good distance when the girls were around, so they wouldn’t get their hopes up any further.
But…the girls weren’t there, and seeing Ethan sounded like way more fun than her alternate project of futzing with Abraham Maldonado-Fumagalli’s photo so his entire face would fit in the little box, and his name would fit on the billboard.
There was no reason she couldn’t head on over and say hello while she still could.
Thinking anything about the upcoming ending of their shebang made her feel as though Cress had dumped a can of frozen orange juice in her stomach.
Her brain actually hurt from staring at the screen for so long. An aching pulse that only going outside and getting an Ethan friends-with-benefits hit could fix.
So she’d do that.
She’d go outside.
What happened next? She’d just see what happened.
First things first: she checked in with the puppy and leashed him up to tag along. Good news, Sketch and Pepper actually liked each other. He didn’t even try to eat her.
Sketch on the leash, she headed outside.
She had a relaxing space in the backyard, but she wandered down the sidewalk since Sketch needed a little walk, and she needed outside air and, well, thiswasthe direction of Ethan’s place.
They hadn’t had any alone time in the past few days, so there hadn’t been any more hanky-panky or crushing cookies, as Barbie said. Which was a complete bummer because she sort of wanted the hanky-panky part of their…whatever this was…to be a bigger part of…whatever this was.
She walked quickly up his front walk, Sketch trotting beside her, his little tail bopping with excitement at seeing Ethan.
Or Pepper.
Anyway, she lifted her hand to knock.
No answer.
