Page 126 of Finance Bros

She looks utterly exasperated with me. “Whatever.” She slams her laptop closed and stands. “Well, come on.”

Damn. Did she not come or something? There’s a pretense of politeness and deference I try to use when I speak with her, but I’m frustrated with how this internship is going for me in general. “I can work alone,” I say, just shy of snapping at her, though she didn’t give me the same courtesy.

“Can you, though? No offense, Malcolm, but?—”

I stand, easily a foot taller than she is, and look down her. “Let me stop you right there. I don’t know who just ruined your day in the unisex, but it wasn’t me, so why don’t you stay here, I’ll find a quiet place to work, and I’ll message you any questions that might come up.”

She gapes, her pale cheeks flushing scarlet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shrug. “Me neither. But it’s obvious you’ve got other things on your mind. I’ll touch base with you later.”

I leave her at the common table in search of an empty office. When I don’t find one, I wind up in the lounge. I take a seat in a booth, pull out my phone to ask Google any questions I have, and lock in.

About twenty minutes later, Bailey slides in across from me with a coffee and her laptop. She and I work quietly until I ask her a question about the report I’m trying to write.

She answers it with no judgement. Quick, clear, and concise. A few concepts snap cleanly into place, and I fly through the rest of the report. Is it perfect? I doubt it. Is it good enough?

Bailey gives it a nod after a quick skim. “You got it,” she says.

“Thanks.”

“What do you think Ryan and Miguel are up to?” she asks.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” I say after a glance at the time on my phone.

She and I walk together to Big Bites, which is two buildings down from Marks & Baker. Ryan and Miguel are already seated at a table, side by side, waiting for us to join them. On the way, I told Bailey what I overheard in the unisex and my suspicion it was my mentor on the receiving end.

“She’s too sexy for her own good,” Bailey said to me.

In return, I asked, “Do you think she’s got some kind of issue?”

“Liking sex isn’t an issue, but when it interferes with your work, it might be time to find a therapist.”

Since I already have a therapist, I recognize the need to bring up the situation I have with Ryan to Andrea. I’m not exactly focused in the workplace either. And holy fuck, I hate seeing him sitting next to another man in a booth with their heads ducked together, speaking in low voices.

Bailey scoots into the corner, and I wind up across from Ryan. He sits back and puts a hand on Miguel's back. The hairs on my neck stand up as Miguel gives us a timid smile.

I narrow my eyes, physically unable to return it.

“What’s up?” Bailey asks Miguel directly.

“I’m wondering if there’s room for me on your team.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. I slouch in the booth and glare at Ryan, who spares me a quick glance and continues to explain. “He majored in communications before he got his MBA.”

“I’ve also got a YouTube channel,” Miguel adds.

“Oh yeah? About what?” Bailey asks while I remain silent.

“I used to do movie and TV show reviews. Like breakdowns and analysis. I quit when I got into grad school, but I have a lot of equipment and a dedicated office space at my apartment.”

“And experience with editing—all the stuff we don’t know much about,” Ryan adds.

I finally speak up. “Why do you want to leave your team?”

Miguel and Ryan share a look I hate from the core of my being. It’s a knowing look. A look that implies that they understand each other on some level. Like they’re deciding whether to reveal something intimate. I feel both violent and violently ill.

“There’s been a lot of personal drama,” Miguel says.

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