Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
Michelle
Michelle
I really don’t want to get involved in this
but Coach was asking about you this morning
I stare at the messages, my nose wrinkled, as I walk down the hallway.
Lauren
Did he? Love this journey for me
what did you say?
Michelle
I just said I’d see if you were all right. Are you playing hard to get?
Lauren
No, I’ve been sick, actually
I subbed for a friend’s ballet class and truly, kids are walking germs
If I taught kids’ dance, I’d call the studio The Petri Dish
Michelle
Oh shit, I’m sorry. I can swing by tonight and bring you soup?
Or if it’s tummy stuff, I can pick up an acai bowl. That’ll clear you right up
Lauren
My anus is not the problem, thankfully
Gotta keep that shit tight!
Michelle
I regret everything
Text Coach, though, okay? I think…he might like you.
Like you, like you
Lauren
Are we in fifth grade?
Michelle
Feels like it sometimes, huh? I just had to announce to the adult male children that Tristan and I are officially official
Excitement and pleasure curl through me, and I’m grinning down at my phone as I open the door to my office. I did it. I told the team Tristan and I are dating, and it feels really good.
So did his kiss.
Lauren
I legit cannot believe you told the man children before me, owner of all the germs in The Petri Dish
I have a FEVER
Michelle
I would never have guessed, you seem so normal
Lauren
If I didn’t like you I would hate you
Michelle
Liar
Lauren
Yes please soup btw
Michelle
What kind?
Three dots appear and disappear before Lauren finally sends her order for pho, along with a request for cough drops, Kleenex, ibuprofen, and saline spray.
Poor thing.
Michelle
I’m glad Coach told me to check on you
Lauren
West is a good guy
Michelle
I’ll see you later
Lauren
I hope I live that long
Michelle
I will drag your ass to the ER if you need me to
Lauren
I’m fine. Ish. I’ll live
Probably
Michelle
…Are you sure?
Lauren
I’ll call you if I get worse.
I grimace, because that does not sound good at all.
Maddie bursts through my door a minute later, her eyes round.
“You’re dating Tristan? Tristan Gold?”
I motion for her to be quiet, then stand up and close the door behind her.
“Is that against company policy?” Her nose wrinkles. “Team policy? Whatever. You know what I mean.”
She wrings her hands, sounding almost sounds hopeful, which makes no sense at all. Why would she be shipping us hard enough to be hopeful? Huh.
“I couldn’t find anything that said it was,” I say. “Is it ethically ambiguous? Probably. But it’s not against the rules.”
My eyes squeeze shut, because no one gossips more than the team. The whole office will know this afternoon, I’m sure of it.
Even more reason for me to get out of here.
“Not against the rules,” she repeats, nodding her head. “Well, good for you. You two are cute. Where did he take you shopping? That was hardly a full report,” she adds reproachfully.
“Well, he technically didn’t take me shopping,” I tell her, sighing as I sit in my chair and log in to my computer. “He had a bunch of stores send over their spring collections to his house, and then I just picked from them.”
Her jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I told him it was too much, but…”
“But he convinced you.” She folds her hands over her heart, practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “That is so fucking cute.”
“It was,” I agree, grinning at her. “All right. Enough about that. Fill me in on the ‘Soggy Bottoms Up’ party.” I snort. “I’m sorry, I just can’t get over the fact that that’s what marketing landed on for the theme name.”
“You’re the one who gave me the soggy bottom idea, you know. It wasn’t marketing.”
“What?” I ask, flummoxed.
“Yeah, you were saying something about cookies and Paul Hollywood, and it just clicked. He’s like, universally beloved, and it was so easy to get local chefs on board. Socials will eat it up, just you see.”
I stare at her for a second, hardly remembering what I must have said to her in passing.
“It’s going to be a hit,” Maddie emphasizes seriously, nodding her head.
“It’s got all the ingredients for a viral event: hot soccer players; good food; a silly, attention-grabbing theme; and all the money from tickets going to a good cause.
We’re working on getting Paul Hollywood himself to come.
We’re even planning a Paul Hollywood look-alike contest, and I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. We love to see it.”
“We love to see it,” I repeat. “Just don’t…underbake the ideas.”
She grins up at me, clearly amused by my terrible attempt at a joke. “You know, you do seem happier since you lost that bet with Tristan. Did it work?”
“Did what work? The bet?” I brush a speck of bear claw glaze from my skirt. “You mean him showing me how to let go of stuff and relax?”
“Yeah. Or wait, is this new attitude just because of him?” she wonders out loud. “Is he the reason you’re more relaxed?”
I stare at her, considering her question.
He does make me happier. He absolutely does. Everything about him makes me light up, makes me feel grounded, like his smile and teasing voice are touchstones I didn’t know I was missing.
It’s not just that, though—he’s made me realize that I don’t need the carefully cultivated control I’ve exerted over everything in my life. I smile wryly.
Still, the thought of dating Tristan and trying to keep it professional at work stresses me out. It’s asking for trouble, and I readjust my posture, tugging at the collar of my tight crew neck sweater.
If I’m more relaxed, I think it’s because I’ve finally realized that I have options beyond this team—that there are so many opportunities I never let myself even consider until the last few weeks.
That’s not something I can tell her, though. She’s brand-new, nearly fresh out of college, and all starry-eyed. I’m not about to burst her bubble if this is where she wants to be.
I’d hate to see her chewed up and spit out, though.
“Probably a combination,” I finally answer.
“Hmm,” she says, already skimming through the list of meeting items we have to discuss, only half listening to my answer.
“Maddie,” I tell her seriously.
My tone gets her attention, and she stares up at me with a furrowed brow. “Yeah?”
“Promise me something, okay?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“When you get a job after your internship, don’t give up the rest of your life for it.”
She laughs, tipping back her head like I’ve said something truly hilarious. When she notices I’m totally serious, though, she sits up straight and clears her throat.
“Right. Of course, I promise.”
“Why was that funny?” I’m genuinely stumped.
She shrugs before leaning forward. “Because watching my parents get laid off during the recession when I was in middle school taught me that I’d be an idiot to live for work.
Nah, I want to graduate, get a job to make enough money to be comfortable, and then set up my own business.
I’m not interested in working to death for some corporation. ”
She delivers this with utmost confidence.
“Huh,” I say, slightly blown away by her self-possession, and completely blown away by the way she easily validates everything I’ve been hemming and hawing about for months now.
I have at least a decade on my intern, but I’m pretty sure Maddie’s got this work-life balance shit way more figured out than I do.
Good for her.