A lump forms in my throat. Why does that feel like a specific callout, and in an all-staff email? Have I really been that much of a Debbie Downer? Now I have less than forty-eight hours to prepare for a double sleepover with all of my coworkers and both my bosses during which I need to be on my “A game” the whole time. The sudden pressure makes me feel like I might throw up.
“Ride’s here,” Benny calls from the curb, where he’s standing. My feet propel me toward him, but my mind is on a different path, my anxieties flooding back in anew. It’s been easy enough for the last little while on this beach to be us—Benny and Reese, the people, not the Friends of Flavor interns or stars ofAmateur Hour.But once we leave, we’re back to the FoF offices…and then what?
I crawl into the sedan and Benny follows, shutting the door behind us and confirming where we’re headed. I’m suddenly incapable of conversing with the ease that I have been. My responses get shorter and shorter until Benny must sense I’m not feeling chatty anymore, and we both look out the windows like we did on the way there.
Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad. I just can’t let Aiden or anyone else see me at anything less than my best. The fall internship is the next step to my dream, and the stars are aligning. I’m never going to get this exact opportunity again.
We’re almost back to campus, and I’m so tense I feel like a rubber band on the verge of snapping, when Benny looks at his phone. He must not have seen the notifications when he was calling the car, but now he taps the screen a few times and his eyes linger on it. His brow furrows as he reads, and he lets out a soft, “Oh.”
We come to a stop at the curb in front of the dorms. Benny pockets his phone and thanks the driver before getting out of the car, reaching back to offer me his hand as I follow. I start to pull my hand from his once I’m standing, but he laces our fingers together and begins walking.
“It’s this weekend trip that’s got you freaking out, isn’t it?”
Wow. The nerve of him, to read me so easily and be exactly right.
“I’m not freaking out,” I protest.
He bumps my shoulder with his, then uses our linked hands to pull me back to his side. “C’mon, Reese’s Cup. This has been the best date of my life. I can’t speak for you, but it seems like you had an okay time, too. You’re crushing it at work as both a graphic design superstar and chef in the making. We get a free sorta vacay this weekend. What’s there to worry over?”
I narrow my eyes at him as we approach my dorm. I knowhe’s not that dense—that he hasn’t forgotten everything that hangs over us work-wise—so he’s clearly doing his best to put me at ease. And best date of hislife? That has my heart speeding up for a different reason entirely.
“I just…feel a lot of pressure when I’m around people from work. Like I have to be the most competent, collected version of me at all times. That’s a lot to keep up for a whole weekend in an unfamiliar place,” I say. The partial truth, at least.
He pulls me to a stop outside the dorm and turns so we face each other. His gaze is warm and, admittedly, comforting. “I’ve seen you outside of work a decent amount now, so I feel like I can confidently tell you that even when you’re not trying, you’re still the coolest girl in the room. If you’re just beingyou, you’re doing enough. Promise.” He pauses, and I try to quickly blink away the emotions threatening to leak out of my eyes. “And I’ll be right there with you. Don’t know if that makes it better or worse, of course. Hopefully better.”
I laugh at the teasing note in his voice, and am surprised to notice the calm that’s slowly washed over me at his words. Without really thinking about it, I step into him and put my arms around his waist, letting my chin rest on his shoulder. He wraps his solid, warm arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest.
“Definitely better,” I answer softly.
When I’m back in my room, though, getting ready for bed, the worries certainly aren’t gone. The pressure is still there, theend-of-summer decision still looming, my mental scoreboard with its flashing lights ever present. But all those worries are fighting for brain space with thoughts of Benny, our conversations, and how good he makes me feel. And like in any fight, I know that eventually one side will have to win.
“Not bad for a summer home, huh?”
I hear Aiden, but I’m too distracted by our surroundings to acknowledge him. We’ve just unloaded from the SUVs that picked up the Friends of Flavor crew halfway through the workday to beat commuter traffic, took us to the ferry, and delivered us on the other side of Bainbridge Island to this behemoth they call a “cabin.”
Surely they had to chop down half a forest to build this thing. It’s twice the size of the fancy Smoky Mountain lodge where my family went on winter break one year on my papaw’s dime after he had an especially good day on the casino boat. This is less of a cabin and more of a palace that happens to be built out of logs and surrounded by evergreens and blue sky.
Inside, my eyes roam over the vaulted ceiling, the sweeping staircase to a cozy-looking loft that’s larger than my family home, the plush furniture covered in plaid flannel throws, the giantkitchen with stainless steel appliances. They couldn’t have picked a better spot for the videos they’ve planned, as far as I can tell.
Benny nudges me with his elbow, bringing my attention to Teagan, who’s standing in front of everyone with a sheet of paper in hand and reading out room assignments.
“Lily, Katherine, you’ll be upstairs on the right, the bedroom with a bearskin rug,” she calls out. Lily makes a horrified face.
Teagan keeps going down the list, naming enough rooms to fit everyone who came, which, while not the whole office, is still a lot of people. I zone out, wondering which of the suits owns this place. Is it Geoffrey Block, CEO? Does he have twenty-five children? How many rooms in the house are dubbed “man caves”? At least three, surely. When does he find the time to come here between all the very important business he does?
“Reese!” Teagan chirps, shaking me out of my snarky thoughts. “Benny! We don’t have enough bedrooms for you both, so you can decide between yourselves who gets the last room on the ground floor at the end of the hall and who gets one of the couches in the basement. Hope that’s okay.”
The cheeky wink she sends me and the note of mischief in her voice make me suspect she’s trying to hint at something. If my life was a romance novel, this would be the point where, uh-oh, there’s only one bed and Benny and I will have to share it, and, oh no, sexy times inevitably ensue. I feel my cheeks flush, even though I know this is a work trip and that, despite our meddling receptionist’s actions, no one is actually trying to make the two teenage interns share a room.
“You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch,” Benny says coolly. The rest of the group is gathering luggage and moving toward their assigned digs. Honestly, Benny looks way too good to have come off a morning of cleaning kitchens, and it’s pissing me off a little. I look into his pretty eyes and narrow my own.
“Don’t be a martyr.”
“I’m not!” He throws his hands up. “The couch sounds nice. The whole basement to myself, I mean, c’mon. They’re spoilingme.”
I smirk, not convinced. “That’s one way of looking at it. Are you sure? I really don’t mind either way.”
“Positive,” he says, then gently taps his fist on my shoulder as he starts backing away, and raises one eyebrow suggestively. “Long as you come visit me.”
