Page 29 of Hot Girl Summer

I question the part where he said nobody was technically at fault. What does that even mean? There must be more to the story, but I barely know him, and the last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable if he isn’t willing to share.

Danny: Anyway, enough about that life-sucking chapter. Positive vibes only.

I’m grateful for the light sarcasm, and for his honesty. It takes a lot for some people to open up, I of all people know.

Sophia: Spoken like a true millennial. For the record, I didn’t mean to pry.

Danny: It’s fine, really.

I sense a slight shift in his energy, which leads to overthinking, but I manage to pull myself out of it. I’ve done enough work on myself to know that my overanalysing is an internal childhood issue.

Danny: Anyway, I need to get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow, as always. Goodnight, Summer.

Sophia: Night, Daniel.

I smile to myself, half expecting a satirical telling off for using his full name, but when the blue tick appears to indicate the message has been read, no more grey dots bounce on the page.

I feel strangely sad about it.

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Lauren asks when I’m called into work early the following Friday. The boxed blonde has always been pretty relaxed, so naturally my stomach is tied up in knots.

“Well, the bad news is: Auréale have bought Ivy Rose Organics,” Lauren says. “Which is also, evidently, the good news.”

My heart pinches. Auréale are a large pharmaceutical company, with zero ethical stance or morals. A quick google search would tell that to anybody who cared, and they aren’t the type of brand I aspire to work for.

In my mind, everything I’ve worked for, everything I believe in, comes crashing down, and I can’t fathom the reason why Ivy Rose’s owner would sell her soul to the devil. What does this mean for my future? Most likely, I’m going to have to continue working at Ivy Rose for the next couple of years, at least until I’m established enough to make a career out of teaching.

“The benefits are amazing, think of all the discounts.”

Lauren’s face lights up like a child’s on Christmas morning, and mine drops like I’ve opened the most disappointing gift.

“I’ve booked you on a two day Social Media and Influencer Marketing course in London so you can learn what they’re all about. How exciting is that?”

I already do a pretty solid job of managing the social media for the store, as well as juggling the job I’m actually paid to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love being in a customer-facing role. I can’t imagine any other job being as socially rewarding as the one I’m in, but the excitement of going on a course to improve something I enjoy is somewhat tempered by the disappointment of knowing that it’s run by Auréale.

“I was thinking about setting a few hours aside once a week so you could film some content? How does that sound?” She twists her engagement ring and smooths her long hair over her shoulder. Okay, maybe that isn’t so bad. It will be refreshing to get away for a couple of days and venture outside of my comfort zone. Maybe some time away from Brighton is exactly what I need.

“That actually sounds like a breath of fresh air.” I glance around the store. “But we don’t have any equipment. Or the space.”

“The company will fund the equipment, and in regards to space, I was thinking that we could set up a permanent station on the shop floor. We’ll work alongside our marketing department, and film the tutorials based on their trend predictions. It will be so much easier with a larger team on board.”

I force a smile. Maybe if I can see past my morals, it could work. “That’s a great idea. When is the course?”

“July 12thand 13th.”

Less than two weeks away.

“Sophia, I know I don’t say it often, but I think you’d be perfect for this. Sometimes I think your talent is wasted here, and I think that this could really help you thrive and give you something to be proud of.”

I don’t know what to say. Instead, I utter a simple thank you, but it’s hard to ignore the ache in my heart.

“Oh and this came, by the way.” Lauren hands me a white envelope withSophiascribbled on the front. Relishing in the little buzz I always get from receiving unexpected mail, I tear it open and pull out four tickets to Monty James’ sold out secret gig. I check the inside of the envelope to see if I’ve missed anything, and pull out a note which says:

Impressed?

I know exactly who sent them, and I don’t care how Danny got those tickets, but my positive opinion of him has just multiplied tenfold. Slowly, I’m starting to warm to that obnoxious smartass, whether I like it or not.

Chapter Eight

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