Page 43 of I Love to Hate You
Kendrick licks his lips, and I can’t help it when my eyes find his mouth and stay there. It’s only now that I realize we never kissed before. Even with everything we did that night, our mouths never touched, and it’s all I can think about now.
He pinches his lips together when he notices me staring at them, before turning on his heel and walking toward the door. When he places his hand on the knob, he turns back to me.
“Come on,” he says.
This time, instead of coming back with a remark, I exhale, grab my coffee, and walk past him.
This is going to be a nightmare.
Twenty-Eight
~ MAYA~
“All right people, today is all about pitch wars,” Denver announces once all of the interns are seated in the conference room again on day two of our internship.
Kendrick sits directly across from me today, wearing a white, blue, and yellow button up, with white slacks that will be ruined with one drop of anything containing color, and blue shoes that pull the outfit together with perfection. Once again, he looks immaculate—a strong, confident, god-like creature who makes my insides quiver with every glance in my direction. Admittedly, I’m doing a piss-poor job of avoiding eye contact with him today. I don't want to look at him, but it’s like my eyes can’t help it. They slowly slide over every few minutes and I have to force them back to Denver, but nine times out of ten, Kendrick catches me before I can look away.
After our little argument in the breakroom yesterday, I spent the rest of the day battling away wild thoughts in my head. Memories of the night I spent in Kendrick’s car sank their teeth into my mind and wouldn't budge, reminding me of what it felt like to have his thickness inside me while I grinded on top of him. Memories of his scent filled my nostrils while a scene of him lifting me out of my seat and into his lap kept replaying. By the time the day ended, I’d shifted a million times in my seat from heat in my body and wetness between my legs. I can’t stand that he has implanted me with these thoughts, and at the same time, I cherish them.
On the way to work today, I didn’t hype myself up with motivational speeches about being strong enough to withstand the onslaught of feelings that comes when Kendrick is near, because I don't have the energy to do that every single day for who knows how long. I can’t allow him to be the center of my focus when I wake up every morning. The best thing I can do is just try to forget anything between us ever happened. I have to think of him as just another stranger—as any other intern in the group of six. Now that he’s sitting in front of me, however, I realize just how difficult that is going to be. The best method of defense I can use is to keep my distance, because as soon as we get close, there are fireworks in my stomach.
“So, what exactly is pitch wars?” Chad asks with a raised hand as if he’s in the middle of a school classroom.
Denver clears his throat and adjusts in his seat. “Pitch wars is something most marketing and advertising agencies do when a new product is about to be pitched by the company. It’s where the director of marketing listens to pitches from a multitude of teams who are looking to sell their idea on how to go about pushing the product to the public. This is where ideas and creativity reign supreme. The person or team with the best marketing strategy wins and gets to use their idea for the next billboard, commercial, editorial, or blog post. So, today, I want to see all of you in action. I’m going to split you into teams of two and assign each team a product to market. Each team will then pitch their strategy to me and I’ll decide who wins.”
Without having to look at anyone, I can feel the sense of determination and competition rise in the room. As interns, we all want to impress Denver because he’s the authority on which of us gets to stay if it comes down to that. We’re all vying for a permanent position at BLM, so impressing Denver is mandatory if we want to secure our future here. The stakes of the day just climbed tremendously.
“What does the winner get?” I ask, because I already know everyone is thinking it.
“That part, Miss Valentina, is a surprise,” Denver answers, grinning devilishly. “But I can assure you, I’m not pitting you against each other just for bragging rights. There is a prize … a serious one. So, I suggest you be on your A game. This exercise is also about teamwork. Don't think you can come into this and steamroll your way into winning. Both team members have to be actively involved and ideas need to be shared and implemented evenly. Come to a consensus as a team. While there may come a time when you’ll be entrusted to do a pitch on your own, today is not that day. Don’t forget that.”
Everyone eagerly nods their heads, anxious to shine in front of the intern pool, while Denver reviews notes in front of him. My heart rams in my chest as excitement floods my veins. This is what I got my degree to do, and I am so ready for this.
“All right, so the three teams are as such,” Denver says. “Chad and Samantha, Erica and Derek, and last but certainly not least, Maya and Kendrick.
I knew it. I fucking knew it.
My eyes shoot over to Kendrick to find his already on me, squinted and unmoving. His face is blank, but I sense the tension in his body. He breathes heavily, blowing a stream of air through puckered lips. Just looking at them makes me swallow hard and have to look away, but I can still hear the sound of the other interns snickering. All it took was one stupid little argument for the entire group to know there’s something different about Kendrick and me. Damn.
“Samantha and Chad,” Denver goes on. “At the end of the day, your team will pitch first, and your product is music from a new independent artist by the name of Mellow Dramatic. He’s a rapper and singer in the Philadelphia area with a new mixtape coming out next month. Do a deep dive into his catalog and prepare a presentation for us.”
Chad and Samantha nod at the same time, before getting out of their seats and moving to the back of the room where a handful of computers await. I can see Samantha scrolling through Spotify before she even leaves the table, already looking into Mellow Dramatic’s discography.
“Erica and Derek,” Denver moves on. “I need you two to build a pitch for a painter here in Philly. Her name is Audrey Reed. She currently works as a PR coordinator for the Philadelphia Wildcats, but she’s dipping her feet into the pool of art and looking for some assistance in getting her name out there for a possible gallery in the future.”
“The Wildcats? She works for a professional football team but wants to be a painter?” Derek asks, baffled.
“Hey, you can’t blame her for wanting to pursue her passions,” Denver answers. “It’s not our job to ask why. It’s our job to win the account.”
“Wait, so we’re pitching for real people right now?” Erica asks, her brows furrowed as anxiety melts onto her face.
Denver smiles. “That’s right. Better get to work.”
With that, Derek and Erica jump up and start for the back of the conference room to sit next to Samantha and Chad, who are already listening to songs and taking notes.
“And finally,” Denver says, addressing Kendrick and I. We both sit up and focus on him. “There’s a popular romance author from the east coast. You may have heard of him. His name is Nasir Booker.”
I gasp because I’ve definitely read a book or two written by him.
