Page 6 of You & I, Rewritten

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Thankfully, my morning mellowed out significantly after that, eh…professional run-in with Alexis and I was able to finalize some remaining onboarding documents and setup my email inboxes and desktop in a way that just makes sense. After dragging Klair to the breakroom for another cup of coffee, we’re about to step into my first official meeting with our smaller editorial team when she turns to me, a half-panicked, half-apologetic look flashing across her face.

“Please don’t hate me,” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder and momentarily stopping me in the doorway. “Wemaylaugh about this later…but probably not.”

What?I don’t have time to badger her about the meaning of her vague and ominous statement because she’s already pulling me by the arm into the conference room where Audra and Jane, both members of our marketing team, are already waiting. Mark, who seemingly handles everything graphic design related, comes in shortly behind us and takes the empty seat next to Jane. So far, everyone I’ve met has offered nothing but the warmest of welcomes and have been instrumental when it’s come to understanding the size and scope of APH. More importantly, they seem to genuinely welcome and appreciate my fresh perspective as they’ve briefly filled me in on the projects they’re all respectively leading.

Well, everyone except for Graham—who’s seated at the head of the table typing away on his phone.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to be doing things a little differently this morning!” Klair says and I can see a flicker of confusion ripple across everyone’s faces. “To officially welcome Will to the team, Mitch asked me to put together a little ice-breaker activity.”

She procures a random stack of envelopes I somehow managed to miss earlier and shuffles them in her hands, flashing a playful grin in my direction. “Get ready for the first-ever APH Team Building Extravaganza!” she says. Judging by the not-so-muffled groans coming from around the table, I can tell she might just be the only one who’s excited.

“These envelopes contain a combination of randomly generated riddles, clues and partner challenges that I swear I haven’t peeked at. We’ll work in groups of two to get through as many of them as we can in a one-hour window.”

Oh, joy…mandatory fun. As much as I would prefer to do any and all team building activities at a happy hour with a cocktail in each hand, I do my best to play the role of supportive friend by resisting the urge to audibly object with everyone else around the table. Even Graham, who’s finally looked up from his phone, gives a subtle roll of his eyes.

“Mark, you’ll partner with Jane,” she says, slowly slinking around the conference table and handing him an envelope. I preemptively turn and smile at Audra, excited at the opportunity to get to know her a little better in a one-on-one setting.

“Audra, you and I will partner up. And the final pairing will be…”Shit…wait. No!

“…Will and Graham.” I stare daggers at Klair as she extends the envelope in my direction and our names come out of her red-lipped mouth. Even though my back is slightly turned toward Graham, I can only imagine the annoyed gaze plastered across his smug face. Klair was right—we definitelywon’tbe laughing about this later.

My palms are instantly slick with sweat as I grip the arms of my chair and without any warning, my leg begins to shake under the table. Before I can even wrap my head around what’s happening and the extent of Klair’s premeditated best friend betrayal—dramatic, I know,the conference room empties out as Jane, Mark, Audra and Klair saunter off, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil as I’m left awkwardly alone with Graham Austin.

I know I need to turn around to face him…but like, do Ireallyhave to? Can’t we just sit here in soul-crushing silence, and he can go back to angry-scrolling on his phone for the next hour? He probably wouldn’t even notice if I crawled across the office floor and snuck out of the room. I turn toward the window…I could maybe climb out of that?

The sound of Graham clearing his throat snaps me back to reality, canceling all my totally realistic escape plans and forcing me to sit just a little straighter in my chair.I mentally shout a long stream of obscenities at Klair for doing this to me as I slowly turn toward my waiting partner.

He’s leaning back in his seat, his hands neatly folded on the edge of the glass tabletop. My gaze instantly goes toward his pointer finger which he is slowly and meticulously tapping against his black, leather notepad either subconsciously or out of annoyance.Definitely the latter.

“Um…hi,” I say once we finally make eye contact.

Instead of initially responding, Graham stands, pocketing his ever-buzzing phone and crossing his long arms. I hate that my not-so-subtle eyes wander over the man standing before me. Despite his obvious disinterest and standoffish manner, there’s no denying he wears the hell out of a suit.

“Shall we?” he asks, his tone oozing with impatience. My list of obscenities directed at Klair grows longer as I rip open the envelope she gave me. Inside, there appears to be a checklist of random items found in an office that we are meant to find.

“It looks like our challenge is an office scavenger hunt. We find the items listed and snap a picture…sounds easy enough!” I do my best to appear calm, cool, and collected—three things I doubt I’ll ever be capable of being in the presence of Graham. If we are forced tobondlike this, I’m at least going to be as friendly and professional as humanly possible. “The first item we need to find is an orange sticky note.”

He opens his notepad and flips back a few pages. “Here,” he says, flinging an orange sticky note in my direction. I watch as it slowly twirls between us and lands on the table in front of me.Really?I silently raise my phone and snap a picture of the sad piece of paper that is inscribed with Graham’s impeccable penmanship, a to-do list.How fitting.

“Next?”

I glance down at the list. “A personalized coffee mug?”

Graham grabs his notepad and heads toward the conference room door. “Follow me.” I struggle to keep up with his hurried pace and for only being slightly taller than me, his stride sure is fast. He rounds the corner and leads me directly to his own office, opening the door—that almost slams into me as I follow him—stepping behind his desk and opening one of the drawers. It’s the first time I’ve been in his office but before I can even look around, he retrieves a mug and turns it upside down so the few random objects—a couple of pens, some loose change and what appears to be a pin in the shape of a stack of books—come pouring out and scatter loudly on the surface of his pristine desk.

I can’t help but take the rushed intensity of his movements personally and I feel my throat close. Allegedly, the whole point of this exercise was to make me feel like a welcomed member of this team yet all Graham has managed to do is show me just how bothered he is being in my presence.

He slides the coffee mug across the table between us and when I pick it up, I seeAustin Publishing Housewritten in gold script across the navy mug. I can guarantee this isn’t what was meant by “personalized” but I’m not going to argue with his logic considering almost every inch of this building has his family name adorned across it.

Taking my phone out to document our second item, I look up to find Graham back to speed-texting which momentarily silences the ever-presentpingof whatever matter keeps pulling his attention.

I swallow hard, furious at myself for letting his lack of professional decorum or at a bare minimum, common courtesy, cause my anxiety to spike like this and when I glance over at his furrowed brow and laser-like focus, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this façade. I pull out the list I had jammed into my pocket and quietly unfold it.

“Alright, the next item we have to find is a coworker wearing a blue shirt,” I say, praying the hurt and embarrassment is not as obvious in my tone as I fear it is.

He briefly looks up from what he’s typing, cocking an eyebrow at me in the process. Raising his phone, Graham snaps a photo of me. “Done.”

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