Page 40 of I Love to Hate You
When the door closes behind him, the room is unpleasantly quiet, and I have to pull out my phone to distract myself from the feelings of angst that make me want to run out just to avoid facing something new. I scroll through every social media app I have, thankful that I still get service in this building, and spend the next ten minutes occupying my mind while I wait for everyone to show up. When the door opens again, my nerves immediately return because I know we’re about to begin. My adult life is about to sprout wings and take off, and everyone is nervous when they fly for the very first time.
“You must’ve missed the carpool, Maya, because everyone else showed up at the exact same time,” Denver says as he pushes through the door and holds it open for a line of people as they begin to filter in one by one. “Come on in. Everyone take a seat, and let’s get this party started.”
I let out a nervous chuckle as the first intern walks in wearing a burgundy blazer with black pants, and an arrogance that wafts more than his cologne. His nose is in the air, and he looks at me like he’s checking out his competition, even though Denver already told me he plans to keep all six interns if things go well. I nod to him out of respect, and he takes a seat next to me.
The next person is a woman with beautifully smooth brown skin and bouncy black curls in her hair. Her smile reaches her almond shaped eyes, and I immediately feel comfortable with her, so when I smile back it’s completely genuine. She takes her seat directly across from me and lifts her head to silently say, “What’s up?”
I return the nod just as the next person enters in a gray shirt with long black sleeves. He’s an Asian guy with stubble on his face and nervousness keeping his eyes from looking around too much. He only glances at me for a second before following in the girl’s footsteps and taking a seat next to her.
Last is a gorgeous white woman with thick blond hair, large blue eyes, and a mouth so small that it looks like she can only nibble things. She’s the very definition of petite, and she smiles without showing her teeth as she walks around to take a seat on my side of the table.
I look at everyone in the room for a quick second, trying not to make it obvious that I’m staring, and take a calming breath. This is the group of people I will be interning with, so I have to get used to their faces. All in all, I don’t feel threatened by anyone here, and I’m excited to get to know each of them as we go on this journey together. However, there are only five of us here, and I could’ve sworn Denver said there would be six.
“All right, everybody,” Denver begins, before stopping himself. “Oh, we’re missing someone.” He turns around and sticks his head out the open door to look down the hall. “There he is. Come on in, sir. Take a seat.”
Denver steps into the room and holds the door open again, and when I see the final intern enter, my heart drops out of my chest and crashes against the floor, splattering all over my white shoes. My eyes bulge as my jaw drops open, and I feel like I just dived into a cloudy dream, because there is absolutely no way this is real.
He’s wearing black pants and a white button up that fits tightly around his round muscles, making him look like he should be walking on a runway instead of into a conference room, and he stops at the door when he sees me.
“Is everything okay?” Denver asks, noticing his hesitation.
Kendrick Kennedy swallows hard and forces a smile to Denver.
“Yeah, everything’s perfect,” he says, before glancing at me one more time and continuing the journey to his seat. He chooses a spot on the other side of the table, perfectly in my line of sight.
“All right, now that everyone’s here and settled in,” Denver says as he takes his seat at the head of the table. “Welcome to Bell Liberty Marketing, everyone. Let’s begin.”
Twenty-Seven
~ MAYA~
“All right, everybody, all I need on this one is a signature from each of you,” Denver says as he hands us another form. This is one of what feels like a thousand documents we’ve had to fill out this morning as part of the intake process for Bell Liberty internship, and we each take one without comment.
So far, my first day on the job has been nothing more than paperwork. I’ve filled out enough liability forms, personality test sheets, and waiver forms to make my fingers bleed, and while I’m anxious to begin the work of actually marketing products and companies, I’m honestly thankful for the delay. The longer we take doing this, the more new interactions with Kendrick are pushed back, and I’ll take every second I can get.
The last time I saw him, Kendrick was dropping me off at my car after the best sex of my life. That night, he ignited something in me that I had no idea was there—a playful, bratty attitude rife with sexuality and lustfulness that set a record for wetness between my legs. He opened my eyes, and then proceeded to slam them shut the very next day with a single phone call. He treated me like what we’d experienced meant nothing to him. He was rude and flippant, and I felt as discarded as the trash I threw out that day. To make matters worse, I never heard from him again. There was never a phone call of apology even though he had my number. He could’ve tried to make amends or explain why he was acting that way, but he chose not to. So I let that night fizzle away. It had receded into the dark recesses of my mind, but now he’s back, pulling it out of the depths with every little glance across the table.
I’ve been trying my best to avoid eye contact with him all morning. Every time Denver hands out a new paper, I can feel Kendrick’s eyes boring into me as he reaches for it, but I purposely look the other direction. When Denver asked each intern to tell him a little bit about themselves, I turned my chair away as Kendrick explained that he’s passionate yet laid back, and eager to learn and thrive here at BLM. He said all the right things, which he’s prone to doing, and I refused to look at him. I’ve put more energy into dodging him than I have into filling out the paperwork, but each document signed is another check on Denver’s list of things to do, and time is running out. Soon, I won’t have a choice but to interact with Kendrick, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with that. All I can do is hope that there’s a lot more paperwork to complete.
Denver collects the newest signed documents and bounces them into a neat stack. “All right, that about wraps up the paperwork.”
Fuck.
“I apologize for boring you all with the administrative stuff,” Denver goes on, “but I like to get that out of the way as early as possible so we can get right into what BLM is really all about. We are so much more than paperwork and documents, so now that it’s done, we’re free to take a quick break and get to the mission of Bell Liberty. Why don’t you all take the next twenty minutes and go to the break room on the far side of the office so you can have some privacy with just the six of you? Grab some coffee and snacks if you need to, have some conversation to get to know each other, and I’ll grab you in about twenty minutes to bring you back here. Sound good?”
Everyone in the group nods, and then we’re all getting up to make our way to the break room. Chad Garfield, the arrogant-looking one, is the first to hit the door, followed by the rest of us. I quickly slip out before Kendrick has a chance to get close to me, but I can hear him behind me as we walk across the office to the empty break room. My nerves come to life as we get closer because I know we’re about to communicate for the first time. What is this going to be like? How do I keep it professional when I want to scream at him for leaving me high and dry after an amazing night like that? I can’t let these people know we’ve slept together. I have to keep it together.
The six of us walk into the break room and quickly realize why it doesn’t get much use. This room is clearly the smaller of the two, and only houses a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee maker, while the other had a full fridge, a separate freezer, a stove, a microwave, and a vending machine. Chad goes to the fridge and snatches it open.
“Well, if you’re looking for bottled water or plain creamer, they’ve got you covered,” he critiques, clearly disappointed by the lack of options provided by the Bell Liberty staff.
“It’s not a restaurant,” says the other Black woman of the group that I now know as Samantha Jefferson. Her gold earrings dangle as she sits down in an empty seat at the round table in the center of the room.
“Yeah, well, when he said to grab some snacks I assumed there would be some in here,” Chad says before flopping down in one of the seats opposite Samantha.
“Well, you know what happens when you assume,” the Asian man named Derek Cho says flatly.
Chad scoffs. “No, what happens, Derek?”
