Reply All

13. Pro tip Try not to develop a major crush on your new best friend

13

PRO TIP: TRY NOT TO DEVELOP A MAJOR CRUSH ON YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND

O nce I finish my story, Will gulps down the last of his beer, slamming the glass down with a loud enough bang that our neighboring tables turn to look at us. Eyes on the table, he grits his teeth as if biting back words, bushy brows pulled together as he processes the events that led me to hate my job for the first time since I started. Did I have moments of dislike towards other jobs I had in the past? Yes. But never until today, I’d never felt anything close to hate or heartbreak until Jenna took from me what I’d worked so hard for.

“Will?” My voice is small and careful. Slowly, I reach out to place a hand on his forearm, which breaks him free from whatever path his mind took him down. He turns to look at me and places a hand over mine before taking it between both of his.

“Are you okay?” Just listening to the sound of his deep voice feels like crawling under a cozy blanket on the couch during a rainstorm—comforting, warm, and reassuring. Like I know there’s a lot going on outside, but nothing can hurt me while I’m there.

“No,” I say, my voice breaking. I dig into the bowl of pretzels in front of us with my free hand and shove a few into my mouth. I chew viciously, thinking over my answer before correcting it. “But also yes? Like, it’s horrible and it kind of feels like my heart is broken. Like I was betrayed, because I suppose I was. But, I mean, I guess I should look on the bright side, right? My idea was so good that an executive from the company felt compelled to steal it and claim it as their own.” I shrug and try for a pathetic laugh, trying to make light of it.

“Stop. Don’t diminish what happened by trying to spin it.” His no nonsense attitude derails me, a bucket of cold water over the fire I feel in my heart for this job that I’m trying to stoke. “Your ability to find good in difficult situations is one of the things I like the most about you, but you can’t make light of what happened. None of this is right.”

I stop and sit up straight. “I’m not making light of the situation. I’m just… What else am I supposed to do? Looking at the bright side is all I can handle right now.”

“You can report her. Say something to HR or something. Talk to the CEO.” He raises a hand and signals our waiter for another beer while I scoff in disbelief.

“Are you crazy? You really think it’s that simple? You want me to just walk into the CEO’s office or HR all willy nilly and tell them that the VP, who has been at the company for over a decade, stole some random associate’s idea she developed in a week? Like, who do you think they’re going to believe? The inexperienced one who’s barely above an intern and has had more jobs in different industries than she can count on two hands, or the woman with years of experience under her belt that are exclusive to not just this world, but the company?”

He sits up, his jaw set in determination. “It’s wrong, what she did. And when you show them all of the work and research you put into the project, they’ll believe you.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You don’t get it, do you? That’s not how things work, apparently. Otherwise, my boss would’ve said something, told me to do the same thing you’re telling me to do now.”

The waiter places a beer in front of Will, and he slumps in his seat. “It’s not that I don’t get it. I do, believe me. It’s that I don’t want this for you. When we first met, I loved how excited you were about your job and this industry—which I have grown to seriously resent. So I’m upset it’s getting to you. I’m frustrated that you’re finally facing some of the negative things that come with this world, and I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to get to a point where all this bullshit will eventually dull your shine.”

“Dull my shine?” My lips quirk upwards, cheeks blushing once again. He thinks I have a shine to be dulled? Before I can help it, my little quirk turns into a goofy grin, despite the subject matter of our conversation. Even through this stressful conversation, Will can make my body light up like a freaking Christmas tree. My mind drifts back to our dirty and flirty exchanges and I realize I miss them. I want them back.

Will looks down at his glass and clears his throat. “You know what I’m saying. You’re almost annoyingly positive,” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips while his eyes remain intense. “But I think having people like you in the world brings a balance to it we are in desperate need of. Like vegetarians.”

I sputter a laugh. “Vegetarians? What the hell does that mean?”

“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 it looks like I’m cool now, my mind is still reeling from seeing him in person for the first time. From the instant swirl of… something that 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. Plus a 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 shakes are vegetarian. 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’re rare , 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 in multiple food 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 is definitely not one of my strong suits—I’m sure there’s nothing you could 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 we both see 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. “ If you stay in fashion?” Will’s eyes widen. “No—you have to 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.

“Yeah, of course.” Will smiles, squeezing my hands. He exhales once before pinning me down with an intense stare in his eyes. “You’ve turned my days around so many times, Bridge.” His voice is full of awe as he shakes his head. “Before you, I was kind of holding on by a thread. But you’ve shown me a different path, you know? Yes, work sucks, but I’ve been creating a toxic environment for myself and others by focusing on how much I don’t like my job. And maybe if I focus on the good, remind myself why I’m actually there, I can keep going for as long as I have to.”

His words make my head swirl, lost in their sweetness. But then the last part of his statement makes me do a mental double-take: “As long as you have to? What does that mean?”

Will’s face shifts into one of concern. “Nothing. I just mean that I probably shouldn’t be so negative all the time. That maybe, even though I really do hate my job and don’t want to be there, I make things worse for myself. And I love that you’ve taught me that lesson.”

“Oh. Okay.” I want to push a little more because he didn’t really answer my question, but his hands are still holding mine—or I’m still holding his?—and my skin is on fire, I’m sure of it. Even warmer still is the feeling building deep inside my abdomen, low in my tummy, and between my thighs. And even though I’ve known Will is attractive since the second I saw him over FaceTime, it’s the first time I’m able to admit to myself something much bigger: I want him. I want him bad . More than for a silly sexting session.

Stupid Bridget. He’s basically turned into your best friend. You cannot ruin what you guys have by being this attracted to him. Plus, he was so clearly not into you when he first saw you on FaceTime, remember? Drop it and move on. What are you even thinking?

I pull my hands away with a heavy sigh and look out the bar window, see that the rain has not stopped pouring since this afternoon. When I first got to the pub, I could’ve sworn the weather was matching my mood—dark, gloomy, and a bit end-of-the-world-y. But now that I’m feeling a different kind of frustration and despair, I wonder what it will turn into. ‘Horny and disheartened’ doesn’t really have a matching meteorological pattern, doest it? Maybe a heatwave.

Sigh.

Feeling Will’s eyes on me, I look around the pub, taking in my surroundings as I contemplate what to do. I watch a group of people move to the beat of the music, louder now that it’s later, on the small pub dance floor. Watch the couples with envy as they sway with their arms around each other, smiling as they do. A dark part of myself I rarely let free peeks out from beneath where I keep it hidden, my ability to keep my head above water in difficult situations waning. Squeezing my eyes shut, I visualize the darkness, push it back down where it belongs, locking the door behind me. With a deep breath, I open my eyes and look straight into the chocolate eyes of the man who’s taken over every corner of my brain for weeks.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“For what?”

“For meeting me tonight, even though it’s raining outside.”

His eyes widen, spine straightens as the muscles in his neck visibly tense. “What do you mean?”

“The rain. You don’t like it. And still, you came. I know it must’ve been hard.”

He’s stunned, his lips agape as he processes my words. “You know?”

I smile at him. “Only that you don’t like it.”

“It’s… a long story.” He looks down at his hands, frowning. “But it’s not like I’m scared of it or anything. Just… bad memories.”

He clasps his hands together in his lap, unsettled. We don’t speak for some time until the song changes to one of my favorites, slow and sultry. Without thinking twice, I ask, “Will you dance with me and tell me about it?”

Will looks up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

I take one of his hands in mine, and lead him to the makeshift dance floor in the small cleared space in the pub where I wrap my arms around his neck as he slips his arms around my waist.