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“You know,” he repeats, as if those two words should explain everything. His cheeks blush as he shoots me an almost rueful smile, and I think I almost die. Because even though itlookslike I’m cool now, my mind is still reeling from seeing him in person for the first time. From the instant swirl of…somethingthat I felt run through every inch of my body.
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him, doing my best to hide the storm of confusing feelings brewing inside me. “I frequently enjoy a double Shake Shack burger and cheese fries.Plusa vanilla shake. This ass doesn’t happen from just eating vegetables, you know. Or going up and down my walk-up at least twice a day.” Laughing, I look down at my bottom with meaning. I cut myself off when I see him look away, though, the tension in his body making it seem like the action itself took every ounce of strength he had.
When he turns back to look at me, he reaches for a pretzel from the bowl, chewing before speaking again. “First of all, cheese fries and shakesarevegetarian. Second, I used ‘vegetarian’ as a metaphor for your positive attitude, because it isn’t really normal for humans to be the way that you are.”
“Flattering, thanks,” I say, deadpan.
“We’re omnivorous creatures. So if you being this positive person means you’re a vegetarian because you’rerare, then the rest of us realists—some would call us jaded—individuals could be called omnivorous or even carnivores. Depends on the level of bitterness.”
“I feel like this metaphor is way too complicated than it needs to be. Might be taking a turn.”
“It makes sense, I promise. Stay with me for a moment.” I raise a brow, but he keeps going. “So if we live by the theory that vegetarians bring some balance into the ecosystem so we don’t deplete the world from animal protein as quickly as we actually could, we can say that you exist to build the rest of us up by having a positive attitude and keeping us from falling into a depressive mental health crisis similar to the food crisis we’re in.”
“Aren’t we inmultiplefood crises?” I ask, trying not to let my mood be dragged further by thinking too much of how fucked the world is and how mankind is responsible for most of it.
He shrugs. “Probably. But, to clarify, when I compare you to a vegetarian, I mean you’re one of those bright, shiny people who never lets anything bring them down. And in this bleak, jaded, fucked up world, we need metaphorical vegetarians to keep us going or else we’d all fall into a depression spiral.”
I pause and take another sip of my wine as I think his words over. “That was way more convoluted than it needed to be.”
He rolls his eyes. “Did you understand what I meant?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So why does it matter?”
This makes me laugh into my wine, my skin buzzing as his smile grows wide. “Okay, but if you want me to stay bright and shiny, as you say, then why are you giving me shit for looking at the bright side of things?”
Will shakes his head so fast and hard, in my tipsy state I worry whether it could actually come off. “No. It’s not the same thing. Looking at the bright side of things is not the same thing as doing nothing when bad things happen to you—which is what you’re doing now. You can’t just let this Jenna thing slide and go on with life and work and pretend like everything is okay.”
I chew on my bottom lip, tasting the salt from the pretzels that would’ve paired so much better with a beer than the shitty wine I ordered.
“Do you want me to talk to Lena? Or someone?” he asks, his voice serious.
I burst out laughing, waiting for him to break, to laugh with me and tell me he’s joking. When I’m met with nothing but stony silence, I stop. “What do you mean ‘talk to someone’? What exactly do you think you can do? First of all, you don’t even work at my company. Second, aren’t you middle management? Plus, you work in the finance department. What do you expect to be able to do?”
He purses his lips. “There are many options I could go with.”
“What? Even though I still don’t know exactly what you do at Stevenson—and I probably wouldn’t be able to understand it because finance isdefinitelynot one of my strong suits—I’m sure there’s nothingyoucould do to… avenge me? Or whatever.” We haven’t gotten too much into detail about Will’s job—he’s cagey about it, probably not wanting to cross some corporate espionage line or something, which I totally get. I don’t want to cross that line either. Which makes me realize something… “Actually. If we’re going to continue to be friends, I think we need to set some ground rules regarding work. Outside of what webothsee in the email exchanges or very generic venting about our days, I think we should keep it separate from our relationship.”
Will perks up a bit at this. “That sounds… like a great idea.”
I smile. “I could tell you’ve been nervous about revealing too much info. And I guess I shouldn’t be discussing work stuff to a client, even if it’s you. It makes sense.”
“Yeah.” Will forces a smile, looking visibly uncomfortable. He looks away and runs both his hands through his hair.
He struggles to meet my gaze when I say his name, ask him to look at me. “I know you want to help,” I tell him, “but there really is nothing you can do. I’m just going to have to accept that my boss’s boss is a dick and will need to learn how to manage that situation going forward. That is, if I stay in fashion.”
His eyes swing back to me. “Ifyou stay in fashion?” Will’s eyes widen. “No—youhaveto stay in fashion. I’ve known you for less than two months and I already know how much you love your job. Stop. You can’t let this affect the rest of your future. You can’t let her win.”
I heave a sigh, weary. “I’m not going to quit,” I admit. “But I’m just… I don’t know. Tired. Achy. Betrayed.”
He huffs and shakes his head with furrowed brows. “I wish you’d just let me help.”
Exhausted, I laugh. “Will.” It’s all I say before reaching out to take his hands in mine, both of us staring at the way they naturally fit into each other.
“You’re always there for me when I’m the one having a bad day. I want to be there for you, too.” One of his thumbs strokes the back of my hand, cheeks flushed.
“Really?” My eyes well, the wave of emotion finally reaching its peak.
