58. Chapter Fifty-Eight
One month later…
“So what you do is click over here on New File and the first thing you want to do is save it in the format listed here.” I point to the cheat sheet I made up. “This way you don’t risk a chance of losing it if the program crashes. It doesn’t happen often, but it has happened. All the files are automatically placed in the shared folder, so you don’t have to worry about changing the location.”
“This seems simple enough,” Eloise says.
She’s the newest hire I’m training and learns quickly, which is great and common, thankfully. You don’t get into graphic design and not know your way around design programs or technology in general. The training is pretty basic, and I find myself answering simple questions more than anything else.
“It really is. Why don’t you familiarize yourself with this for a bit? Come up with a logo for yourself, and I’ll be back shortly.”
She smiles and nods, then scoots to the center of the desk when I get up and roll the chair back to the empty desk a short way away. I head to the back room to check on a few other recent hires who are already working on projects.
Charles wasn’t kidding when he said this place took off. Apparently, there was another ad agency in the city that floundered, and all the local businesses flocked to this one out of desperation. Our employees have increased by 30% in just the last month and that isn’t including the group of us who came from Beaumonte. Of course, this is overall and not just the marketing department, but it’s still impressive. Especially since things are still growing. I’m both proud and excited to be part of the agency’s growth.
“Hey, Bryson. You still coming out with us tonight?” Westley asks as I pass by his desk. He’s hanging his phone up on the receiver, and he gets to his feet.
He’s one of the guys who migrated over from Oregon. The ten of us seem to have a sort of kinship to one another. We aren’t close, but there’s an understanding that we’re all in the same situation, and that helps. We’ve gotten acclimated quickly, and we are friendly with everyone who has been here, but since it hasn’t been long, the place is still somewhat divided. Those who were here first seem to be a little butt hurt that newbies came over to train new hires in their location. I’m sure they’ll get over it soon. If not, then that’s on them.
“Planned on it,” I answer.
It’s the first time the ten of us are planning on going out together. We’re celebrating our first successful month here in Boston.
“We’re meeting in the lobby at seven.”
I give him an acknowledging head nod and move to Michael’s desk to see how he’s fairing. He got stuck with a difficult client who still thinks lingerie should be marketed toward men since they’re the ones who look at it. The guy doesn’t understand that times have changed, and it makes more sense to market these items as sexy and comfortable to the women wearing them. He’s older, definitely a different generation, and way too traditional. But he’s a client, so we’re doing our best to give him what he wants while making sure it’ll be successful. It’s not easy, but Michael is doing a great job trying to incorporate what the client wants while staying true to what he’s marketing.
“Any luck?”
“I think I got it,” he says. “At least mostly.”
He pulls up the file, showing me a classic-looking ad but with the minor details we’ve been adamant on. Like the men not looking like savage pigs and the woman seeming happy and not lifeless. “This is good.”
“It’s the best I can do with what I’m given,” he answers, scratching his head.
“Stay confident in the meeting and we may actually get somewhere. Good job.” I pat him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Mr. Montgomery.” He grins at me.
I go back to my desk to check my emails, and when I’m done, I pop over to Eloise, who summed up her entire personality in the glittery and robotic ring she designed with her name etched into the band. I love seeing people work on projects when they have free rein. It really shows off their style. It’s also great to push people and give them perimeters because they have to think outside the box. Sometimes they learn they’re capable of things they didn’t think they would be.
I still can’t believe I was given this opportunity here. Everything with work is going perfectly. My apartment is coming together. I have friends here. I keep in touch with my friends from home too. They’re all doing well. I haven’t talked to Chris, but Mila gives me updates when she gets them through Tabitha, since Chris won’t talk to anyone. Mila says she calls Tabitha once a week to check in on him. He’s lucky to have someone like her who isn’t willing to give up on him. She’s a better person than me.
Last I spoke to Mila, she told me Chris lost his job and has been spiraling hardcore. I hate that I can’t be there for him. Hate even more that even if I was, it wouldn’t matter.
I haven’t talked to Cole once since I’ve been here, which does nothing to help the gaping hole in my chest. He hasn’t reached out to me, and I haven’t reached out to him. Mila has no information on him whatsoever, but why would she?
All I know is that this hurts a lot. It doesn’t seem to be getting better. The way Cole is still constantly on my mind is concerning. How long does it take to get over someone? It’s been long enough. So many times I’ve considered reaching out to him under the guise of asking about Chris, but I realize how shitty that is, so I don’t. What’s the point? What would I even say to him? Just ask about Chris, then say bye? For what? Just to hear his voice and think about it for days on end? I already know the only thing he and I will ever end in is pain. If he hasn’t reached out to me, it’s because he doesn’t want to. Meaning I am not going to chase him. My heart can’t take begging someone to be in my life. I’ve done it enough with my father. I won’t beg anyone else to want me around, especially since I’m making progress here. Both in my life and with my issues. So yeah, this pain sucks, but I also know it could be worse. So I stay away because the road I’m on leads to a fully healed Bryson.
Once home, I shower and change, then quickly get dressed to meet everyone downstairs. This is my first time going out at night in Boston, so I’m sure it’ll be an experience.
“Bryson’s here!” Toby shouts. He’s the loud one. Borderline annoying, but it’s also slightly endearing. He’s high energy. Like a golden retriever.
A few of the guys slap me on the back when I reach them. “Am I the last one?”
“Nah, Max is still messing with his hair,” Toby says. A few people laugh, including myself.
Max has long hair that always looks way too nice. The guy clearly spends hours on it, and he always gets shit for it.
“Has anyone talked to him?” Chance asks, looking at his phone. “Should we start requesting rides?”
“I’ll call him,” Anthony offers, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“You miss home yet?” Westley asks, stepping to my side.
Out of all the guys who came here, he and I are the closest. And we aren’t really close at all, just chat more than I do with others, but never about anything serious. I hardly know anything about the guy, but I like talking to him. We also live on the same floor, so we run into one another often. Seems we do our laundry on the same day, even when we do it on a different day of the week. Somehow, we always end up in the basement laundry room together and it’s become sort of a joke between the two of us now.
“This is my home,” I say.
He smirks, shoulder-bumping me. “Yeah, but back home.”
I shake my head. “Didn’t really have anything there.”
“So this is a good change for you then.”
“Absolutely. How about you?”
“Miss my little brother, but I’m planning on flying him out here in a few weeks before he goes back to school in September.”
“How old is he?”
“Seventeen. Starting his senior year.”
“Shitty times,” I say with a laugh.
He chuckles too. “Tell me about it. Not for him though. He’s so different from me and you. You know, not the nerdy type.”
I gasp, putting my hand on my chest. “I am not nerdy.”
He gives me the are you serious? look. “You’re a graphic designer, Bryson. You’re a nerd.”
I roll my eyes.
“Easton is a total jo—”
“Whoa,” I say, putting up a hand to stop him.
“No, I already know what you’re going to say,” he adds. “Get it all the time. Yes, our parents named us Westley and Easton. No, I don’t want to talk about it.”
I roll my lips between my teeth to stop myself from smiling. “All right then. Please continue.”
“I was just saying that he’s a jock and will probably end up with a scholarship to some fancy school. May even play in the NFL one day.”
“No shit?” He nods proudly. “That’s awesome.”
Everyone whooping startles me. I turn to see the guys facing toward the elevators. There’s Max, looking as perfect as ever.
He’s hot, I won’t deny it. Amazing body, nearly perfect bone structure, and he’s humble as hell. And yes, his hair makes me want to run my fingers through it. It’s long, thick, and wavy. He takes great care of it, but I’m pretty sure he’s as straight as they come. Not that I’d ever hook up with someone from work, but still. I can look.
“The hair is here!” Toby shouts through cupped hands.
A few of us chuckle.
“I swear I’m going to cut it off,” Max says when he reaches us. He and Toby share a hug. They were friends before starting at Flashfire and were both lucky enough to be offered the opportunity out here.
“No way. The ladies love it too much,” Toby says, giving him a playful shove.
“They’ll love me without the hair too. I’m amazing.” He holds his arms out and grins. “Especially in bed.”
Men.
I roll my eyes again. It’s honestly so good to be here.
We go to an Irish pub that has a live band and we stay until it closes. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere electric. There’s something about Boston that is always alive. Though, I guess that’s just how it is in big cities.
We’re all buzzed when we make our way back to our building in rideshares, all with plans to go for breakfast in the morning. Though, I have a feeling that won’t happen since half the guys will forget and the other half will still be sleeping. I’m one of the latter. Waking up early during the week is rough, especially because no matter how hard I try, I can never get to sleep before one in the morning. I’m a night owl. No way am I waking up early just to eat food when it can wait until later.
Westley and I are the only ones on the top floor, so we say bye to everyone else as they get off on their floors. We head down the hallway together.
“That place was fucking awesome,” Westley says, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. It’s wavy and always somehow looks messy but stylish. “We need to go back there again.”
“Agreed. I wasn’t expecting the food to be so good.”
“Oh my god, the food!” He rubs his stomach, groaning. “I need more food.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. We turn the corner as I say, “You just—”
But I freeze, unable to get the rest of the words out or my feet to move anymore.
“What’s wrong?” Westley asks, watching me carefully as he too stops.
When I don’t answer, he follows my gaze to the man sitting on the floor in front of my apartment door.
“Is that someone you know?” he asks quietly, stepping so close I can feel his body heat against me. We all know this is Boston and there are some crazy people out here. There have already been a few incidents of homeless people being caught sleeping in the lobby and basement, which is why the landlord had to hire 24-hour security.
I sigh and answer Westley in my head.
Unfortunately, yes. I know him well.
What the hell is he doing here?