Page 98 of When Fate Breaks
“Blake, I–”
“Evangeline.”
“What?”
Blake stops, letting out a harsh breath as his hand grips the wooden door and his forehead falls against it. He stays that way for several seconds before he straightens again, turning to look at me with an entirely new fire in his teal eyes. His tongue pushes hard into the side of his cheek as if he’s desperately trying to prevent himself from giving away a secret.
“I'll tell you what,” Blake rasps, pushing off of the door and walking right up to me. He comes so close so fast that my reaction is to step back, but I stop myself, holding my ground. He stares down at me, his lips rolling together as what looks to be a final attempt at holding his tongue.
He fails.
“You don’t ask me why I still have that photo and I won’t ask you why you still have my t-shirt.”
My jaw drops.
“I–” I sputter.
How? What? Oh my God.
I remain frozen, completely at a loss for words as Blake steps away from me.
How could he know about the shirt? Where even is the shirt right now? The last time I had it was the night I called him. Where did I put it after we hung up the phone? That entire night is honestly a blur in my mind.
Oh my God.
No. This isn’t comparable. It’s a shirt. It’s just stayed in the bottom of my drawers for years. I didn’t even remember I had it until I found it that night. It’s simple. I didn’tkeepthe shirt. I just never got rid of it.
But why?
My eyes begin to burn at my own hypocrisy. My teeth go into my lip to stifle the unexplained tears trying to work their way through.
“I told you to stop that.”
I look up to see Blake in his doorway once more. I immediately release my lip, straightening my posture. He starts to close the door but stops it halfway.
“And you shouldn’t have to thank me for a dance,” Blake says, his eyes flicking up to mine. He tilts his head to the side, something like sadness crossing his features. “You should always dance.”
The door closes and I’m left in the hallway wondering what the hell just happened.
18
SEVEN YEARS AGO
“Though the traditional route of television and print ads might seem like the obvious choice, the most recent statistics are showing that our targeted demographic for this product, males and females between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, are actually consuming over three-quarters of their media through online sources. After carefully running the numbers, I believe the return on investment here would be most valuable if we were to instead utilize content creators on various social media platforms such as YouTube and Instagram–”
“Annie, that’s your fourth trip through the revolving door, hun.”
“Huh?” I tear my gaze away from the manila folder holding my notes to see Riya, my favorite fellow intern, shaking her head and laughing at me from outside the building. I look down to see my hand still pushing the revolving door around on what I assume is now my sixth rotation.
“Shit,” I mutter, a light brown strand of hair falling out of my twisted and clipped mess of an updo and into my line of vision. “Sorry, Ri,” I call over my shoulder as I step into the small lobby. “Just a little stressed.”
“You’realwaysstressed,” Riya says as we stroll past the front desk.
I wave and smile at our secretary, Vivian, the bright red backlit letters of Briar & Brooks standing out on the wall behind her. “Am not,” I shoot back at Riya, praying my muscle memory will guide me to my desk as I return my attention to my proposal outline that I’ve spent the last seventy-two hours straight perfecting and will be presenting at our 9:00 a.m. meeting this morning.
“You totally are,” Riya laughs. “And there’s no need. You’re the best intern in this place, Annie. You know you’re going to be kept on. And you’re going tokillthis presentation because you literallyalwaysdo. You were made for public speaking.”
College came and went faster than I had ever imagined it would. Though the math related classes nearly killed me, with a ridiculous amount of tutoring and hard work, I managed to push through a graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Even though I was proud of my grade average, it wasn’t stellar compared to most business majors; well, most of those that wanted to land a position straight out of school at one of the top marketing firms in the country anyways. Although I didn’t ace every class in college, and Riya’s praises frequently exceed my worth, she wasn’t wrong, however, in saying that I am a talented public speaker.Bullshitterwas just the term I preferred.
