Ashlei
My sisters and I used to play a game with our pencils when we were younger.
We’d grab them by the eraser and wiggle them slightly in the air, pencil held horizontally, and it’d give the illusion that the pencil was made of rubber. We’d watch that pencil for hours, giggling and pretending like we were magicians.
I’m playing that game right now, though not by choice, because Mr. Church just asked me to stay back after an all-staff meeting.
As the room clears, everyone casting eyes back in my direction, the pencil in my hand is just as rubbery as my knees taking shaky steps toward where he’s seated at the head of the long board table.
I tuck it inside my notebook as I take the seat next to him.
It’s been six weeks since the Alpha Sigma concert.
Six weeks since the CEO of the event agency I intern for “bought” me for a date at a Greek function at a school he’s ten years too old to go to.
Six weeks with no explanation as to why, with no mention of it at all — with not a single word said to me period.
But that six-week silence was just broken.
In front of the entire agency.
I force a steady breath as the last person exits, the door shutting behind them with a soft click as Mr. Church turns to face me.
It’s hard to keep my eyes trained on his, to not notice the hard edges of his jaw or the perfect slope of his nose as he smiles easily, as if the two of us being alone in the same room doesn’t faze him in the least bit.
“I know you probably have some work to wrap up before you get out of here for the weekend, so I’ll try to make this quick,” he starts, his posture relaxed as he kicks back a little in his chair, unfastening the two buttons on his cobalt blue suit jacket.
It falls open, exposing his crisp white dress shirt beneath it as he steeples his fingers, eyes still locked on me.
“You did a great job at the event pitch meeting with Bare·ly last week.”
I swallow, ankles crossed and hands holding tight to the portfolio notebook balanced in my lap. “Thank you, Mr. Church. That means a lot to me.”
His eyes spark a little when I say his name. “I wasn’t the only one impressed. Mrs. Delure spoke with your manager earlier this week to get more of the details hammered out for the event, including the lead event planner, and she asked specifically for you.”
My mouth falls slack. “She… are you serious?”
“I am.”
For a second I just stare at him, but then I laugh, covering my wide smile with my hand as I shake my head. “I can’t believe that.”
Mr. Church chuckles, too. “Neither could your manager, which is why she came to me to ask if it was even possible. We’ve never had an intern in such an influential role before. She’s worried you might not be prepared to do the job effectively.”
My smile falters. “Oh…”
“I, however, am not.”
My eyes find his then, and they’re like lasers piercing straight through me. It’s as if every secret I’ve ever hidden, every dark thought I’ve ever had is easily accessible to him. But he doesn’t look away. He leans in closer.
“You made an impression on me in that elevator, Miss Daniels, and every day since. You can do this. And that’s why I told your manager to make you the lead event planner.
You’ll have a team of three — two associates and one other intern.
We’ve never done this before, and you’re going to be met with resistance.
I know you can handle it, but before I announce it to the staff, I need to know you know it, too. ”
I tighten my grip around my notebook, knuckles white from the force as my heart thumps like a kick drum under my ribs.
I think of the other associates on the project, of how they’ve already turned their noses up at me when I’ve excelled.
My manager said they’re just threatened, but with this news, I know I’d have a new, larger target on my back.
But I didn’t come here to make friends. I came here to learn, to prove myself, and to stand out.
I want to be the best, and I won’t get there without taking risks.
“I’m ready. I can do this, Mr. Church.”
He smiles, kicking back in his chair again.
“That’s what I hoped you’d say. I’ll send the email on Monday.
I’m going to have to explain why we’re letting an intern take the lead event planner role, but with Mrs. Delure asking for you by name, it should be easy to do.
And if anyone gives you a problem over it, just come to me. ”
I blush, tucking my hair behind one ear. “No offense, Mr. Church, but running to tattle to the CEO probably won’t earn me any respect points. I’ll be okay. I’m no stranger to gossip or bullying,” I add with a laugh. “I’ve got pretty thick skin.”
He watches me, tapping his steepled index fingers together. “I don’t doubt that.”
I’ve never been so pinned by a gaze before. I physically can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything other than stare back at him, wishing I could read his mind.
“Do you have plans tomorrow?”
At that I laugh. “Honestly? Don’t judge me, but I plan on staying in bed all day. We finally have a Saturday without a sorority event and I have two months’ worth of sleep to catch up on.”
Mr. Church smiles. “Would you consider getting out of bed around two if I promised to have you home in time to get a full eight-hour rest?”
Wait.
Did he just say have me home? As in, he would be taking me somewhere?
I just stare at him, finally blinking after what I’m sure is a full minute.
He cocks an eyebrow. “The auto racing date? I do believe I was the highest bidder.”
I’m still staring. What am I even supposed to say? I want to ask him why he did it, why he hasn’t mentioned it until now, and more than anything, I want to know how it’s even remotely appropriate for him to spend a Saturday with an intern.
Because I know it’s not.
And maybe I should say no. Maybe I should politely decline, thank him for his donation and hand him his tickets to the auto racing place, insisting he ask someone else to accompany him.
But I don’t do any of that.
“Okay.”
His other eyebrow shoots up to join the first before a grin breaks on his stunning face. “Okay, then. May I pick you up?”
I just nod, the room suddenly too hot, and I stand to end our meeting. But when I do, the pencil I’d tucked into my notebook spills onto the floor. We both bend down at the same time to retrieve it, our noses just inches apart as our fingers brush.
We both pause, his hand on the pencil and mine still over his. When he looks up at me, I meet his gaze, holding it there with unanswered questions until his eyes flick to my lips and back again.
Clearing his throat, he hands me the pencil and stands, helping me up. “Tomorrow at noon. Kappa Kappa Beta house, correct?”
Something between an uh-huh and a squeak leaves my lips and I dash out the door, trying to calm my walk as I make my way through the office with multiple pairs of eyes watching the entire way.
I can’t catch my breath, my heart threatening to sprint right out of my chest and across the office.
I just agreed to a date with my CEO. Tomorrow.
In what world is that ever a good idea?
***
Just as promised, Mr. Church pulls up at twelve on the dot in his Acura NSX.
I’m thankful for the mid-seventies, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky weather, because all of my sisters are at the beach getting their tans ready for Halloween.
If they were home, they’d all be lined up at the windows as soon as they heard that engine purr.
I’m still questioning my decision the entire walk down the sidewalk to his car, one thumb hooked into the strap of my purse to keep me from playing with my hair.
I spent the entire morning figuring out what to wear, curling my hair to perfection, and applying my makeup to look natural but flawless.
I tried on more outfits than I care to admit before I landed on my favorite black body suit, slim cut with thin spaghetti straps and a deep v-neck.
Paired with a bleach-washed pair of ripped-up shorts and my white Keds, I feel sexy without being obvious.
I topped it off with a thin, gold headband and reflective aviator glasses, which I’m thankful for when Mr. Church steps out of the car.
He rounds the car, opening my door and waiting with one hand still on the handle as I take in his casual attire.
I’m so used to seeing him in a full-on suit ensemble that I almost don’t believe it’s him in the fitted light jeans and simple white t-shirt, covered only by an unbuttoned red and blue flannel shirt cuffed at his forearms.
I stop when I reach him, swallowing past the sticky knot in my throat. “Hi.”
“Glad to see you were able to get out of your pajamas,” he teases, holding his hand for mine to help me inside the car. When I’m safely in, he shuts the door behind me, jogging around to his side.
I marvel at the white and black leather interior, the stitching wide and bold, the entire world muted inside his car that costs more than my entire tuition.
I let my eyes wander the dashboard and middle console controls, anything to keep from noticing how ridiculously sexy he looks kicked back in the driver seat with one hand on the wheel and the other resting easy on his thigh as he turns to me.
“Ready?”
I laugh out a shaky breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Church.”
He shakes his head with a grin. “You can call me Brandon, if you’d like,” he adds quickly.
“Brandon,” I say, trying it out with a nod. But then I crack out a laugh. “Feels kind of weird.”
A shadow passes over his dark eyes. “I’m sure the more you say it, the more comfortable it will feel.”
And there it is again. The look. The piercing gaze that strips me of any reply other than an open mouth as he throws the car in drive.