Page 143 of Give In

Too tired to even think, I ignored the mocking in my head and let him take care of me.

Just this once.

When we finished, Damien wrapped me in a towel before drying himself quickly. He tossed our towels in the hamper and picked me up again.

Am I too clingy?

No.

Well, I mean, Iamliterally clinging to him like a spider monkey.

Shut up, logic.

“I can walk,” I said.

“I know.”

“Been doing it for a while. On my own two feet, no less.”

“Eden,” he warned, setting me on his bed.

I rolled onto my side and curled up in my spot, waiting for him to join me. My eyes quickly drifted closed, my thoughts fluttering from one thing to another million, though I couldn’t really grasp any.

Once his body curved against mine, I sank deeper into sleep.

We’ll talk later.

It can wait.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Consensually Stupid

Eden

Fighting the urge to fidget, babble, or barf, I looked at the woman on the other side of the desk as her fingers flew across the keyboard on her iPad.

That’s a good sign, right? She wouldn’t be taking notes if I sucked.

All I have to do is keep my foot out of my mouth a little longer, and I think I’ve got a good shot at this job.

Damien’s car had barely pulled away on Thanksgiving when I’d grabbed my laptop and loaded my email. I’d reread the job description a dozen times, finding something new to love each time. With my optimism reaching dangerous levels, I’d decided to research everything and anything on Prosecutor Rivera before applying for the job with his gubernatorial campaign.

And again, each news article and bio piece had given me something new to love.

The fact it’d been a holiday hadn’t hit me until after I’d submitted the application. I hadn’t expected to hear from them until the following week, but their offer of a Monday morning interview had come a few hours later.

It might’ve been a bad sign that someone reviewed incoming resumes on Thanksgiving, but I’d decided to be grateful my torturous wait hadn’t dragged for weeks. The long weekend had been difficult enough.

Min set her iPad aside. “This is great, Eden. Solid grades. All the right answers without seeming canned. I’m impressed. Since you’ve applied for this position and you’re under the age of ninety, I’m assuming you have a passable grasp of social media.” She didn’t wait for my response before continuing. “I’ll be honest, I’m a helluva Communications Director. Stick me in a room with members of the media, and I’ll have them eating out of the palm of my hand. It’s not hard—Prosecutor Rivera is the golden boy with good reason. But still. I know I’m the best.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “But put me in a room with millennials, and I freeze. I’m almost forty. I’m not sure what’s on fleek, whether I wanna be basic or extra, or who I ship.”

I’d have laughed at the disgruntled confusion on her face, but for the first time since I’d read about the job, doubt trickled through me.

Before it had time to really crash over me, Min held up her hand. “Don’t worry, that’s not what we want from you. That’s actually exactly the kind of thing we want you to help usavoid. We don’t want to pander to young voters, but we do want to reach them. Hear their concerns and make sure they know we’re listening. Social media has proven to be the most effective way to do that. And I’ll be honest, I have neither the desire nor the time to fall down that rabbit hole.”

“Will I be able to work around my class schedule?”

Min nodded “Wouldn’t have it any other way. In most cases, someone—likely me—will shoot you an email with whatever details you need to post about. If it’s urgent, I’ll suck it up and post it, but otherwise, there will be enough notice for you to schedule them ahead of time. Phrase them how you want as long as it doesn’t read like it was written by a robot or,” she gestured to herself, “a forty-year-old who’s trying to stay… woke. And our technology manager does amazing graphics, so you can work with her to whip up whatever you need.”

---