I AM EXHAUSTED.
It’s only Tuesday but I feel like I’ve worked an entire week. Between classes, the sorority, and my internship, I have exactly twenty minutes of downtime each day, and I usually use it peeing.
And it’s only been a week since my internship started.
I guess most people would be complaining, wishing they had more time to sleep or party, but honestly? I’m thriving. It reminds me of when I had pole dancing taking up my time, giving me purpose — a goal to work toward. I’m working alongside three other interns this semester, and I’m determined to be the best. Blame it on always being in competition with my sisters growing up or maybe just on the fact that I have something to prove this semester, but I’m all in.
Which is part of the reason I’m the last to leave the office.
We had a meeting first thing this morning to discuss the event all the interns would be working on, a product launch for a local, high-end skincare line. The only information we’d really been given was the date of the event and a packet with information on the new line they’re launching, so I spent the rest of the day researching the company, founders, mission statement, and current marketing struggles. It might have been a little excessive since we’d only be involved in the launch event, but in my opinion, they booked Okay, Cool because they want the best, and I’m determined to give it to them.
To meet their needs, I need to understand them.
And then, I can find a way to exceed them.
Balancing my binder now stuffed full with the research I’ve done all day, I dig through my purse for my phone to call Cassie. We’re supposed to meet at Ralph’s to talk about Erin’s surprise party at seven and I’m already ten minutes late. But when I finally fish it out, I lose the grip on my binder, and it tumbles to the floor, hitting the toe of my high heel in the process before spewing paper all around me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I yell, eyes rolling up to the ceiling before I let out an exasperated sigh and kneel down to start retrieving the pages. I hadn’t taken the time to hole punch them and actually put them inside the three-pronged binder, and now I’m paying the price for it.
My phone lights up with a text from Cassie and I angrily thumb out a response before tossing my phone back in my purse, gathering the paper and trying to keep at least some of the organization I’d worked all day on. I’m so grumbly I don’t even register the cherry-brown Ermenegildo Zegna shoes until I’m trying to swipe up a page trapped underneath them.
I pause, fingers still on the paper as my eyes trail up the beige suit pants, skipping the open jacket altogether to land on Mr. Church’s face. His hands are resting easily in his pockets, Carolina blue dress shirt exposed and navy tie loosened around his neck as he smirks down at me.
Me.
The intern.
Who is currently on her hands and knees in a pencil skirt.
“I didn’t realize we were keeping the interns so late,” he booms, bending to my level as he helps gather the last of the pages.
I just gape at him for a moment before clearing my throat and shoving the papers in my binder, not taking the time to keep them in order anymore. My fingers brush his when he hands me the stack he’s gathered and I keep my eyes on the binder, cheeks flush with heat.
“Bare•ly?” he asks, nodding to my binder as he stands. “Didn’t you just get assigned to their event this morning?”
I nod, attempting to stand without flashing him my underwear or breaking my neck. He reaches down for me, one hand grabbing the binder from my grasp as the other stabilizes my elbow.
“Yeah, I just wanted to get a head start on the event. I don’t know much about them yet.”
“Looks like you will soon,” he says, handing the binder back to me when I’m fully standing. “You know, most interns just wait to be told what to do when we assign them their event clients.” He checks his watch before lifting a brow back at me. “And most of them leave well before five.”
“Guess I’m not like most interns,” I offer with a shy smile and a shrug.
“I’m starting to realize that.”
He takes a moment to really look at me then, and the heat I feel from his gaze is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s not a look just reserved for me, either. I’ve seen him give it to plenty of other people just in my first week. It’s not him coming onto me or checking me out, it’s just how he is naturally — intense, ablaze, striking.
“Mr. Church, I’m really sorry about that first day in the elevator. I… well, clearly I was nervous, and I didn’t know who you were, and—”
“That was the best part,” he says, hand finding the small of my back as he leads us to the elevators. “You didn’t know who I was, so I got to see you unfiltered. It’s rare for me to see anyone that way. I liked it.”
“You liked watching me make a fool of myself?”
He chuckles as the doors slide open and we both step inside.
“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. You made an impression. There’s a difference.”
I nod, biting my lips between my teeth for the rest of the ride down. When the doors open again, we both walk in silence until we’re out of the lobby and standing in the warm evening air.
“Thanks for your help,” I say, sheepishly holding my binder up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Have a good night, Miss Daniels.”
And where I need to turn left for the garage, he turns right, unlocking a pearl white Acura NSX parked in the reserved section with a soft beep before sliding inside. I can’t even move another inch toward the garage until I hear him rev it to life, the engine roaring and purring under his touch. It idles for a minute, my eyes on the blacked-out windows, wondering if the ones inside it are focused on me, too.
When I finally turn, the engine hums again as he throws it in reverse, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to not watch him drive away.
“Okay, now that Erin’s party details are hammered out, I have a favor to ask you,” Cassie says, ordering us another round of margaritas. Ralph’s ended up being packed so we moved to the Mexican restaurant just off campus, and after two margaritas I was thankful for the switch. Nothing makes a long day better quite like tequila.
“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been buttering me up with chips and queso.”
“And Patrón,” she adds with a wave of her finger.
“Fine, I’m as buttered as toast. What’s the favor?”
“Okay, so ever since Grayson agreed to headline the Alpha Sigma concert, I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it even better than last year. Not that Adam doesn’t already have that covered, but I just…” She pauses, tucking her wild hair behind her ear. “I know it was hard for him to ask Grayson to help, since they don’t exactly get along, and I want to try to take some of the stress off him.”
“That’s really sweet, Cass. Why don’t they get along, anyway?”
She shrugs, but something in her eyes gives me the impression there’s something she’s not saying. “Who knows. Boys are dumb.”
“Indeed. So what’s the favor?”
“Okay, so I pitched this idea to him and he’s in, but he doesn’t have time to do anything else. I told him I’d handle it, but… well, I need your help.”
“Just spit it out already.”
“I need you to auction a date.” She throws her hands up when I start to object. “Just hear me out. It’s almost exactly like the KKB auction we have every spring except instead of auctioning just the girl, we auction the whole package. So, basically they bet on the ‘date’ but the catch is that the girl auctioning it off has to go on the date with them. So, it takes the pressure off them for deciding what to do and it’s a little bonus, like paying for the activity itself instead of just the girl.”
“It sounds great, but I seriously can’t, Cassie. I barely have time to breathe, as it is, this semester.”
“Please,” she begs, sliding my new margarita to me when the waitress drops it off. “All I’m asking for is two nights — this Friday for the concert, and then whatever night the guy picks for the date. I already have the date items to auction so you don’t even have to worry about that.”
“What is the date?”
“It’s a four-car experience at Palm South Exotic Auto Racing. You’ll basically just have to sit shot gun while the guy gets wet over driving fast sports cars.”
I blow out a sigh, taking another, longer drink from my glass. “Fine. I stayed late tonight so I should be able to head out on time Friday as long as my manager is okay with it.”
Cassie squeals. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do, and as you can see, I happily take queso as payment,” I say, popping another chip in my mouth with a grin. “How are you and Grayson, anyway? I know you’re excited about the show, but it can’t be easy having all those girls drooling over him all the time.”
Cassie’s face falls. “It’s not really the girls who bother me. I just don’t see him much anymore, and anytime we are together, it’s always me watching him from the crowd at the coffee shop or a local show. We haven’t had a single date all semester.”
I frown. “That’s kind of shitty.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, but shakes it off. “But I get it, and I’m sure we’ll spend more time together once the semester settles down a little.”
“Have you guys had sex yet?”
Cassie blushes, and I can’t help but laugh. She gets so nervous talking about anything sexual.
“Not yet…”
“But?” I probe, sensing more to her statement.
“Well, he did go down on me.”
I clink my oversized glass to hers. “Atta girl! How was it?”
She flushes even harder. “Magical. His tongue is just… wow.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I haven’t had attention down there in way too long.”
“Not since Bo?” Cassie asks, and we both fall silent at the mention of her name.
I stir the ice in my margarita, the same part of my heart aching at the loss of her. “Not since Bo.”
“Any new girls or guys catching your eye this semester?”
For some reason, Mr. Church’s smoldering smirk flashes into my mind at her question, but I shake it off. “Nope. Just focusing on my internship and getting myself stable for once.”
“I like that,” Cassie says with a smile, lifting her glass this time. “To getting our shit together.”
I laugh, tilting my glass toward her.
“I’ll drink to that.”