Page 41 of Loving London

We decided to go with an ocean chic décor. After we finish this last room, our apartment will be painted in all earthy cream and gray hues with blue and teal accent items throughout.

It’s looking awesome. I have to admit, as much as I complain, it’s pretty gratifying to complete a project from start to finish and have it turn out so great. The cherry on top is that it’s kept my mind busy, which is always a good thing.

I’ve been in LA now for a little over two months. August in Cali has been pretty much like August in Michigan—hot. Next weekend is Labor Day weekend, and I can’t wait to spend three days with Paige. It would be even better if Georgia could be here with us, but besides a proof-of-life text every few days, I haven’t gotten to speak with her much this summer. She’s busy with saving the world, one tree at a time.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Brad anyway?” Kate asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. The entire floor has been talking about it. Everyone thinks something is going on between you two. As your roommate, I’ve been waiting for you to spill the beans, but since you haven’t, I figured I’d just ask you.”

After finishing the edging on my portion of the wall, I grab the paint roller to finish the rest. “Nothing is going on between us.”

“London…” Kate lowers her voice, like my mother always does when she’s trying to get us to come clean with a lie.

“Kate…” I imitate her.

“If you want it to be a secret, I won’t tell anyone. You know you can trust me.”

“I’m serious, Kate. Nothing is going on between Brad and me. We have a boss-employee relationship and nothing more. I promise.”

“So, you don’t have any interest in him?” She doesn’t sound convinced.

“No, not at all.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s the same for him. You do realize that you’re the only writer he has daily meetings with?”

“That can’t be true.” I stop rolling to think about whether or not I’ve noticed him meeting with others. But, honestly, I don’t really keep tabs on his daily activities.

“It is true. He meets with everyone at our morning meetings, which is where everything is discussed and finalized. If the other writers have a question, they’ll go to him, of course, but he definitely doesn’t meet with them separately and every day, like he does with you.”

“Really? Wow, I had no idea that he meets with me more. I mean, I know he’s attracted to me—I’m not naive—but I didn’t realize that he treated me differently than the other writers.” I bring the back of my hand to my forehead. “Ugh, I feel stupid. Everyone at work probably thinks I’m a tramp.”

Kate laughs. “No, they don’t.”

“Yeah, right. I guarantee they think Brad and I are humping like bunnies during our ‘daily meetings.’” I use my fingers to make quotations in the air.

“Who cares what others think?”

“I do, Kate. I don’t want everyone thinking that I slept my way into this job. I work really hard and write damn good articles. I want to be taken seriously. Maybe you should tell them that I’m not sleeping with Brad,” I suggest, trying to figure out how to do serious damage control.

“I can when it comes up. But people are going to believe what they want. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, London. Actions speak louder than words. Just keep doing your best work and show everyone what you’re made of. Even if they think you and Brad are together, they’re not going to be able to deny your talent.” Kate takes a second to admire the wall she just painted before coming over to help me finish mine.

“I’m going to tell Brad to stop treating me differently than other employees. That guy…” I shake my head with a scowl.

“That’d probably be a good idea. I mean, if you wanted to be with him, that’s totally your call. But, if you don’t, you should set some parameters.”

“I thought I had.” I roll my eyes. “I told him from the start that I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

I’ll definitely have a few choice words for Brad when I see him tomorrow.Ugh, making all my coworkers think we’re sleeping together.What an ass.

I drop the paint roller in the pail with a thud. I hope I never have to touch one of those again in my lifetime. My back aches, and my shoulders are screaming in pain. To think of it, my entire body is sore and fatigued. I’m not a manual-labor kind of girl, and I’m okay with that.

I plop down onto our new cream-colored sectional although it’s currently covered in drop cloths to protect it from paint splatter. Leaning my head back, I admire our walls. “We did a really good job,” I say.

“We sure did,” Kate agrees from beside me. “You want to clean up really quick and set everything up?”

“Sure.”

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