“It would have been, but the interns who came in after us were shit.”
I burst out laughing at his bluntness.
“Neither of them had anything like our drive,” he continues, a playful smile on his lips as he enjoys my reaction. “The problem was they actually got on well, so there was no motivation for them to beat the other one. They were slow with the research I assigned to them, took their time on the coffee runs, and talk about sloppy transcribing. The number of typos was laughable.”
“I suppose we did motivate each other. I should thank you forthat—Celia never would have contacted me later to offer me the interview atFlairif I’d been a half-assed intern under her watch atThe Daily Bulletin.”
“I don’t think you have it in you to be half-assed at anything,” Ryan comments. “Except punctuality, which you fully dedicate yourself to being terrible at, so I suppose that doesn’t count.”
I chuckle. “I mean it, though, Ryan. I know us going up against each other for that job wasn’t ideal, but in the end it was for the best that I didn’t get it. I wasn’t meant to be a reporter atThe Daily Bulletin.I was much more at home at a magazine likeFlair.”
He nods, saying quietly, “I felt so terrible when you left.”
I get a stab of guilt at his sincerity.
“You must have hated me,” he adds.
“I was angry at the situation,” I say quickly, not wanting to linger on the topic, because in all honesty, I did hate him at the time. “Maybe if I’d had a better relationship with my parents… Going home to them after was painful. Those next few weeks were pretty bad—I was so desperate to move out, but the job at the bar paid so little, and I knew I was lucky to have parents living in a house in London where I could stay. When Celia called, I cried with happiness. As soon as I was on the payroll, I moved to the other side of London, away from them. It all worked out in the end!” I smile up at him.
“I went to your parents’ house,” he says quietly.
“When?”
“A couple of days after you leftThe Daily Bulletin.I thought I’d give you some time to cool off, then try to get you to talk to me,” he admits. “But I couldn’t bring myself to ring that bloody doorbell. As usual, I didn’t have the confidence.”
His throat bobs as he swallows.
I stare at him, stunned by this admission. “I can’t believe you came to the house.”
“I didn’t linger like a weird stalker or anything, I promise.”
“No, it’s not… I wasn’t thinking that,” I stammer. “I’m just surprised you bothered.”
He frowns. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I assumed you forgot all about me the second I was gone.”
He blinks at me. “Harper, are you being serious?”
“Well, you got the job we both wanted and what happened between us… it was a fling,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I figured that you were focused on your career and that weekend was a blip. God, I was so panicked when you got that job atThe Correspondence.Did you know when you started there that I was the celebrity editor atNarrative?”
He nods, his eyes fixed on me. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, at least you were prepared to bump into me, then. Must have been nice to have some warning,” I laugh nervously. “When I spotted you in the newsroom, I didn’t know what to do with myself. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me, and then when I realized you did, I thought it was easier to pretend we’d never met. Save ourselves the embarrassment of… well, thinking back to that time and everything that had happened.”
“Harper,” he groans, running a hand through his hair, “when you say stuff like that, it makes me… you thought that I might notrememberyou?”
“I suppose we did sit next to each other for eight weeks,” I admit.
His jaw tenses and he doesn’t say anything, breathing in deeply through his nose as though he’s steadying himself. He turns, taking a few paces away from me deep in thought before stopping still and spinning back to address me, his brow furrowed in what looks like a mixture of confusion and frustration.
“You honestly thought there was a chance I would have…forgotten?” he asks in disbelief, his cheeks flushed in anger.
I’m taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor, staring at him, startled.
“It was a long time ago,” I stammer. “Okay, so maybe I knew that you’d probably recognize me, but it wasn’t like it was a big thing that happened between us. It was just one weekend, it’s not like it was—” I search for the words, waving my hands through the air “—agrandaffair. You know, I was just a fellow intern with you. A lot’s happened since then; you might not have been able to place me.”
He throws his head back and lets out a “Ha,” exasperation flooding his features.
