“Hey,” Ryan says as he approaches, carrying a bag that clinks loudly. “Happy birthday, Mimi. I wasn’t sure what drinks you’d like, so I brought a selection.” In his other hand, he holds out a Tupperware. “And I made some millionaire’s shortbread. I think I remember you saying you liked it.”
“Iloveit! Thank you so much, that’s so lovely of you.” She gratefully takes the Tupperware and peers inside. “These look amazing.”
“I hope they taste good.”
“Knowing your baking talent, I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
“Oh, I brought some ice, too. I thought that might be helpful,” he says, pulling out a bag of ice cubes. “Do you have a cooler box or anything?”
“I have three!” Mimi cries excitedly, while Rakhee and I hide our smiles at how happy she is to show off her organizational skills. “No one ever remembers to bring ice. I’m impressed.”
“It’s nice to see you again,” Rakhee begins, offering him a wave as Mimi totters off with the bag of ice. “Mimi’s been telling me about your baking—you’ve definitely one-upped me by bringing that angle to the job.”
He blushes. “I bribe people to like me through cake.”
Rakhee chuckles. “So, how are you finding the office? Everyone keeping you on your toes?”
“Some more than others,” he remarks, his eyes flicking to me.
“I’m sure you’re well able to rise to the challenge,” she comments, giving me a sly smile as I pretend to ignore the conversation.
“What about you?” he asks her. “How’s your new role?”
As Rakhee fills him in onSleek,I take in Ryan’s appearance. He looks annoyingly good, wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt underneath an unbuttoned khaki shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He really suits those Ray-Bans, too. His head angles toward me slightly as Rakhee is talking, as though he can tell I’m studying him, and I quickly drop my eyes to the ground.
Rakhee excuses herself when she is waved over by some of ourNarrativecolleagues who haven’t had the chance to say hello yet. I glance around, searching for someone else to speak to so I’m not stuck making awkward small talk with Ryan, when he cracks open a can of beer, making me jump.
“Feeling on edge today, Harper?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink. “Perhaps you’re nervous about the competitive games.”
“Please. I could not be more ready to take you down.”
“How do you know we’re not on the same team?”
“Because Mimi told me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Ah, you were asking about me, then.”
“What? No!” I immediately feel my cheeks flush.
“You must have been, for Mimi to inform you that we were on opposite teams.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. She mentioned it in passing.”
He nods to the rounders bat and ball lying on the grass near the table. “You any good?”
“At rounders? Yes, very good.”
“Really?”
“You sound surprised. For your information, I am very good at sports with balls.”
He looks delighted. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t make it dirty,” I scold. “You know what I meant. Netball, tennis, rounders. I wasn’t one for the running track at school, but team sports I excelled at. My PE teacher told me I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”
“As impressive a compliment as that is, you do realize you were at school quite a long time ago,” he points out.
“Hand-eye coordination doesn’t disappear. It’s a lifelong skill.”
