2. Malcolm #2
I don’t have any. It seems straightforward enough. While I do tend to think in terms of investments, those are slow to yield, so it’ll have to be something besides stocks. I backburner it for now. Since I’m not the most creative person in the world, trying to force an idea will only frustrate me.
“Great,” Jonathan says. “I’ll leave you to Georgie and welcome you all again to Marks & Baker. I hope you enjoy your time here.”
No teams? Fuck yes. I’m so relieved, I’m tempted to turn and smile at Bailey, but she’s busy scribbling in her notebook.
Without thinking, I glance across the table at Ryan.
He’s looking directly at me. His hazel eyes are subzero cold, and his jaw is set in a perfect square.
I perceive the implied threat—the challenge—the hate .
It lasts all of one second, and I feel like he’s got me on my back ready to pound my face with his elbow.
Okay, so the last time I saw him, I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior. Or the time before that. But you don’t train a dog by telling them no once. You have to reinforce that shit, or they’ll test you whenever they get the chance.
It’s his fault how things turned out. He was the one who fucked everything up. If he could have kept his stupid mouth shut, we might still be friends even if we’re not stepbrothers anymore.
But here we are.
The break I was planning to ask Kaylin for this summer might have to wait.
It’s not like I can be single now . Between this internship and the trips she’s planning with her friends, it would have been a perfect opportunity to hit pause on our stale relationship.
I figured it would either make us realize we really do belong together or give us each a chance to accept that we don’t.
There’s another couple in our friend group who’ve also been together since high school.
They’re engaged, and they seem way more into each other than Kaylin and I do.
But they also live together. They play pickleball and go hiking on weekends.
They have date nights and plan fun vacations.
Kaylin and I don’t do any of that. If she goes out or travels, it’s with the girls.
If I go on a hike, it’s because I want to be by myself.
She’s not a fan of the great outdoors, and I for one, enjoy jerking off in a tent in the middle of the woods where I can be as loud as I want.
We did try pickleball last spring, but since it required working as a team and losing to better players, I decided pretty fast I wasn’t into it.
To be clear—I’m not looking to date or fuck other women.
Not that I’m saying if we took a break I wouldn’t, but I really do want to focus on this internship.
Sex with Kaylin is fine. Or as fine as it can be after ten years together.
We still do it a few times a month and know what to do with each other to make it work, so I’m not unsatisfied exactly.
It’s just that I don’t feel any closer to end game if that makes sense.
I do have a sense the clock is ticking for her, though. Last year, I considered taking the plunge and proposing, but the more we talked about being together long term and having kids, the more I chickened out. A break might help clarify whether I actually want to marry her, or I’m just used to her.
And maybe this internship will lead to a job and help me feel more settled in general. Or at least, that’s what I thought might happen before Ryan plopped his ass into it.
Just when I thought I’d gotten away from him for good.
I hate how all the severely uncomfortable shit I’ve spent most of my life pushing to the back of my head is suddenly clamoring to be dealt with. I hate that he’s glaring at me like I was the one who fucked everything up. I hate that I’m the asshole, when he so obviously is, too.
Georgie introduces me to my mentor—a financial analyst named Isla Dennis.
She’s a curvy thirty-something with long, nondescript brown hair and vivid blue eyes.
Her skin is extremely pale, but she lights up when she stands to greet me.
I get a head to toe once-over and a “Wow. Is this my summer bonus?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or file a complaint.
Georgie ignores this and leaves me with Isla. There’s an immediate vibe—one I immediately dislike. “You’re my first intern,” she says. “Malcolm, huh? Is that what people call you?”
“Yes,” I say, though most people call me Mal.
She says my name several times like a chant as she pulls another chair toward hers and gestures for me to take a seat.
When I do, she scoots in. Her knee bumps mine, and she makes no effort to adjust it.
To be fair, she’s got a large laptop, but it’s not gigantic.
For both of us to see the screen, we do need to be next to each other, but could she cross her legs?
“So…tell me about you,” she says.
I give her the brief bio I gave the other interns.
“I went to Stanford, too! Did you play sports?”
“No. I mostly just hung out and went to class.”
“You’re so tall. You look like you would’ve played baseball or basketball or something.”
“Yeah. No.”
“What do you do to stay in such great shape?” she asks.
“Go to the gym…”
“Which gym?”
I look longingly at the spreadsheet pulled up on her computer screen as I tell her the name of my neighborhood gym, which leads down a rabbit hole about where I live, how many days of the week I work out, and whether I live alone or not.
I’m a terrible liar, so I tell her the unfortunate truth. “Yeah.” I’m careful not to ask any reciprocal questions because she’s playing with her hair and touching her face too much. She’s flirting with me, and it’s about as subtle as a brick to the face.
At my first opening, I clear my throat and ask what she’s working on.
“Oh! Yeah, I guess we should talk about that. How are you with Excel?”
“Not bad.”
“Good. Maybe we can learn from each other, then.”
At last, she puts me to work, pointing me in the direction of some cluttered spreadsheets that aren’t the easiest to decipher, especially with her constant questions.
My concentration is also jacked because I’m thinking about that hundred dollars, and obviously Ryan, who’s two tables down with his own mentor, a young, very good-looking white guy in a fully motorized wheelchair.
Ryan’s got glasses on now—I don’t remember him ever wearing glasses—and it shouldn’t distract me even worse, but it does.
They’ve gotta be fake. Or like blue light glasses or something.
He just looks so…grown up and normal . So well put together—I shake my head and look away.
It’s annoying is all. That he’s here. But it doesn’t need to ruin my summer or this opportunity.
“Oh—” Isla cuts off my disconcerting train of thought. “That’s a tricky one—let me walk you through a few things.”
She scoots in close enough that her thigh is fully flush with mine, and I can smell her floral-scented hair. Needless to say, it’s a long morning. I finally get a break from her after lunch when she goes to a team meeting, and I insist I’d rather keep looking through the spreadsheets.
She looks disappointed but eventually leaves me alone. I manage my first deep breath of the day. It’s not that she’s unattractive, but she is overwhelming, and there’s something slightly wild behind her eyes whenever I look directly into them. Like she’s not entirely tethered to reality.
However, she’s smart, she knows her shit, and I’m here to learn.
Also, I’m not the only new meat in the office.
Nathan could be single. Ryan may or may not be, but I know full well he’s not into girls.
I wonder what he’s thinking about his own mentor, who, despite his mobility challenges, is a young, handsome man with no wedding ring.
They sure seem to have a lot to talk about.
I have yet to look over at them and not see them deep in conversation with full eye-contact and everything.
Why doesn’t he just sit on the dude’s lap for fuck’s sake?
Why the fuck am I picturing that? And why does the image of it make me have to forcibly unclench my fists?
Just before four-thirty, Isla returns from her meeting, a fresh coating of lip gloss on her full lips. “Want to grab drinks after you’re done with your debrief? I can tell you all the office tea.”
Here’s my best opportunity to reverse this tide, and I jump for it. “Can’t. I have plans with my girlfriend after work.” Not a lie. “But I look forward to tomorrow. Thanks so much for a great start.”
Her smile wobbles, but it doesn’t fall. “Girlfriend, huh? What’s her name?”
Does she think I’m lying? “Kaylin.”
“Hm.” She looks me up and down again. “All right. Well, enjoy your evening.”
“Thanks,” I say, rising from my chair. “You, too.”
Making my way to the conference room, I find myself walking next to Nathan. “Heard a few things about your mentor,” he says in a low voice.
“Yeah?”
He gives me half a mischievous grin. “You like ‘em freaky?”
I sigh. “Shut the fuck up.”
The interns meet with Georgie for a half-hour debrief of our days and we’re allowed to ask questions and give observations.
Ryan is characteristically quiet, and I’m uncharacteristically so.
Everyone else wants to know more about the challenge and past challenges.
It’s enough to hold my attention and distract me from the fact that I’ll be stuck in rooms with my ex-stepbrother for the entire summer.
About half of us make it onto the same elevator after the meeting.
Ryan stands in a corner, eyes trained on his phone. Jia, Nathan, and Miguel are also on board. Nathan gives me a nod. “What do you think about the challenge?”
I think it’s already stressing me the fuck out. “Sounds fun. I’ve got a few ideas popping.” I don’t. I’ve got nothing .
Miguel says, “Since there aren’t any rules, we could pool our cash and have a better start.”
“ Yes …” Nathan says, his dark eyes calculating. “I’d absolutely be down for that.”
Miguel brightens, looking to me and Jia. Ryan might as well not be on the elevator. He’s got all his walls up. Typical.
I hedge. Like I said—teamwork isn’t my strong suit. Every group project I’ve ever been part of ended with me doing way more work and micromanaging people to the point of visceral hatred on all sides. “I’ll think about it.”
Miguel cocks his head in Ryan’s direction. “Ry?”
Ry? He’s got a fucking nickname for him already? Just hearing it grates on my nerves. The hairs on my arms stand straight up.
But Ry shakes his head without looking up from his phone. “I’ve been told I don’t work well with others.”
Miguel laughs like Ryan just said something hilarious and isn’t being a complete dick.
I glare at him, not that he notices. Same old asshole.
His eyes flick up and meet mine. Nausea—instant nausea—makes me nearly double over.
I don’t look away because fuck him. His pale cheeks flush just as fast as bile rises up my throat.
The strong physical reaction to what amounts to maybe two seconds of eye contact makes me sick and dizzy.
I don’t know why I let him get to me like this.
I don’t know why I keep looking at him, period. He doesn’t look that different.
When he dips his head down to study his phone screen, I let out my breath and force a grin for the other three interns. This is shaping up to be the worst summer ever.