Page 44 of Touch Me

“Agreed,” the girls say in unison again.

“So, let’s show you around and then make ourselves look busy until lunch.” Jen stands, and the others follow. “If you have anything that needs to be refrigerated, you can bring it, and we’ll show you where to put it.”

We walk along the bank of TV screens to about midway down the room, where a little alcove leads into a large lounge with a kitchen—there’s a fridge, coffee station, and two long tables set up. In the corner is a copier with several shelves above it holding different types and colors of paper.

I put my lunch in the fridge, and we head back out. The same hallway has restrooms, a water cooler—I didn’t know that was a real thing—vending machines with fruit, sandwiches, and yogurts.

“That whole wall of offices over there,” Jen says, pointing to the opposite wall, “is where all the floor supervisors are. Some of them are great. Some of them you should steer clear of.”

“Some of them, like Mark Waters, will tell you your article is great and he’ll submit it for you... if you give him a little incentive,” Ashley says with a raised eyebrow.

I recoil. “Gross. How is he still employed?”

“His dad is an evening newscaster, and his family had a hand in the business when it was just beginning. This place has always had a Waters in it from day one. He’s practically untouchable, and he knows it.”

“I doubt he even has a degree,” Alex says.

“Well, I’ll do my best to stay away from him.”

“Oh, he’ll find you,” Jen warns.

“He’s probably already circling your desk.” Ashley shivers. “It’s like he can smell fresh meat.”

Jen gestures to the room. “Anyway, that’s the gist of it. We rarely have to go to a different floor, but if you do, we can take you.”

“Thank you all so much. I was a nervous wreck all morning anticipating the new intern treatment. Push pins on my chair, or being sent on errant tasks, all that jazz you see in the movies.”

Alex puts his arm around my shoulder and steers me back to our desks. “Don’t worry, we got you.”

Jen claps her hands and opens her laptop. “Now, let’s pretend we don’t hate our lives until lunch, shall we?”

* * *

We spendthe next several hours splitting our time between working and chit-chatting until lunchtime. I learn the three of them are best friends with Jen and Ashley having known each other before, and Alex joining the group when they were all hired as interns a few years ago. They all take lunch together and usually leave the building, choosing to eat at a beach-front park nearby.

They also do regular dinners out and the warm fuzzies I got when they invited me were contained enough to keep the squeal that came out of me just shy of embarrassing. I can think of several instances this week where a stiff drink in public surrounded by strangers was just what I needed. The only other person I know in the city is Jace and, though we had an outing to get hot dogs, he isn’t really the Taco Tuesday and margarita type. Jess and Ella are still busy with school, so it will be nice to have a friend or three to share a mutual mid-week hangover with.

We grab our lunches and head out around noon, settling at the park a couple blocks away. There’s only one picnic table available in the middle of what I can only describe as a toddler Jurassic Park. Some run free, the screeching akin to that of a tortured Pterodactyl, while others are on bungee cabled leashes.

Is that legal?

I can’t say I’m upset by it, a little taken aback maybe, but it would be pure Revolutionary War without them and by the looks on the faces of these parents, this is purely an attempt to exhaust the little buggers into a nap.

I tip my head back to let the sun warm my face as the others unpack their food.

Ashley spears a mozzarella ball out of her Caprese salad and the scent of balsamic stirs my appetite. “So, where do you live?”

“With my best friend’s brother. He has a condo near here.”

“Older or younger?” Alex asks.

I pop a grape in my mouth. “Older.”

“Hot or not?” Jen asks.

Ashley perks up. “Is he hot? Single? I’m in need of a little loving."

I stammer, the juicy fruit going down harshly as I will away images of Jace using resistance bands to tie me up to his squat bench and make me break a sweat. “I mean, yes. Sort of.” My cheeks redden with heat. “He is kinda hot, yes.”

---