Page 21 of Finance Bros

It’s the most hateful thing about me, and I’d very much like to put it in the past. Being around him isn’t easy, and yet, I can’t say no to the offer either. If there actually is an offer.

Today, he’s wearing a navy suit over a white shirt. His tie is the color of his eyes. Aquamarine. They pop vividly within the already attractive lines of his face. The reddened rims prove he lost some sleep last night, too. I prepare myself for him to tell me to forget it.

I nod as I approach him. “Good morning.” We both turn to face the elevators.

“Morning.”

Jia pipes up with her own greeting.

I lapse into my usual awkward silence, edgy and agitated, notsure what’s real or a product of my historically over-active imagination when it comes to him.

An elevator opens. The three of us and a number of other people crowd on. Malcolm and I wind up shoulder to shoulder, packed in like sardines.

“I don’t have many ideas,” he says to me in a quiet voice. “Sorry.”

“I’ve got a couple,” I lie, thinking about vintage t-shirts. Vintageanything.

“I tried gambling,” he says. “It didn’t go well.”

I snort.

“What?” he says. “Areyouany good at it?”

“I’m not gambling to win this,” I tell him.

“Why not? It’s just like the stock market.”

“Uh, no. It isn’t. Stocks have histories and certain ways of behaving. Gambling is a little strategy, but it’s mostly luck.”

“Yeah…like the fucking stock market,” he mumbles.

I scoff at that. “You went to Stanford?”

He stiffens. The air between us might as well have just frosted over. “You goddamn well know I went to Stanford. You were in the same room when I got my acceptance letter.”

“I was probably stoned.”

It’s his turn to snort. “You were definitely stoned.”

The doors open on ten, and I shove my way out, needing not to be so close to him anymore. He’s got a nasty temper not many people know about, but it isn’t hard for me to tell when he’s working himself up. I’d rather not be in the blast zone this morning. I’m already a scattered, emotional mess with all the shit his unexpected phone call dragged up.

“Should we see if Bailey wants to partner up, too?” he asks, easily matching my stride.

“Sure, go for it.” I’dloveto watch that conversation.

“You should be the one to ask. She can’t stand me.”

“No?” I ask. “What gave you that idea? I thought everyone liked you.”

His voice is a low grumble. “I just think you might have better luck.”

“I’m as straight and white as you are, bro.”

At that, he gives a short, barking laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Excuse me?

I stop walking, and he does the same. We’re a few feet from the conference room where we huddle with the other interns in the morning. Jia goes inside leaving Malcolm and me in the hall together.

---