Page 157 of We Can't Be Friends

“I’m serious. He wants to see you. I just left his office and he asked for me to fetch you.”

“I’m not a dog,” I bark out, hitting save on the project I'm deep into and closing my laptop.

“You sure have a bite like one. Too bad Ryan isn’t around anymore for you to aimlessly follow as his pathetic puppy.”

“You ac—” I snap my mouth shut, she isn’t worth my energy. “You know what, never mind. Do you mind? You are blocking the door.”

I smooth my left hand over my skirt, my right hand clutching my tablet and notebook. Tamara steps to the side but doesn’t leave my office. I stop outside the threshold. “There’s no reason for you to be in here.” She huffs and storms away, and I pull close my office door, fighting the urge to lock it.

Seated in the chair across Michael’s large maple desk, I fidget to get comfortable.

Even his chairs are miserable.

Crossing and uncrossing my ankles, I settle with both feet planted on the ground and a forced ‘I’m happy to work for you’ smile on my face. He isn’t a fan of resting bitch faces.

“Henry,” he addresses me after I’ve been sitting here for five minutes. I hate that he calls me by my last name, partly because I doubt he knows my first name. I hate anyone calling me by my last name; it feels too bro-y, except for Callum. He says it as if it's the honey he pours in his tea to sweeten it up. “Thank you for coming to my office. It’s been brought to my attention that a relationship of yours has ended.”

I know he’s talking about Seth before he even finishes the sentence.

Why is my personal relationship a work matter?

Seth and I weren’t coworkers. He’s not even in influencer marketing. He’s the Associate Director of Brand Partnerships. Also, how does he even know that we broke up?

Tamara. My blood seethes.

“The end of last summer,” I confirm and correct.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes.” I say, confused.

“Live Outdoors has decided to not renew our partnership at the end of this contract. Apparently, your behavior with Mr. Donaldson was highly inappropriate and they do not find our team professional or valuable to work with.”

Reading between the lines is easy. The underlying meaning is screaming louder than his words.

Seth could have just said I’m un-valuable to work with—or care for, as you should in a relationship.

That asshole.

Why did I ever waste my time on him?

Because you were lonely.

You only know how to use your body to feel something.

My grief and anxiety always know the perfect time to pull out their knives and make small jabs. Poking holes into me until I fizzle out.

“That information is incorrect. Seth and I’s relationship had zero to do with work. Yes, I broke up with him, but it was because. . .” Am I really about to admit to my boss that I was cheated on? That I truly am not valuable. Screw Seth. This is his mistake, not mine. If anything, this is a representation of his character, not mine. “Seth cheated on me. Any inappropriate behavior was his. I still don’t understand what my relationship has to do with work.”

“You met at a work event?” I nod. “You two have attended several events throughout your relationship?” Another nod. “Then it is a matter of work.” I open my mouth to speak, to defend myself, before he raises a hand to stop me. “You are lucky I am not suspending or firing you, Henry.”

I nod, pressing my mouth into a straight line. Taking deep breaths, I remain as collected as I can be.

“You will be written up. I know Ryan had a three strike policy; however, I do not. One more incident, Henry, and your employment will be terminated.”

My brain scrambles for a solution. I can’t get fired. I’d love to quit but not get fired.

“What if I can save the partnership?” I blurt.

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