by Olivia Besse
“Dude, I was just kidding,” Evan said with a groan. “No need to get your panties in a twist. Now stop being such a little bitch, take that shit upstairs and be like, ‘Hold your applause. No need to thank me. Thank Evan.’”
After shooting Evan a tiny glare, Max took a deep breath and began making his way towards the staircase. Of course she’ll like it! he reassured himself as he cautiously ascended the steps. How could she not? What kind of girl wouldn’t appreciate a sweet gesture like this?
Riley, that’s who, he couldn’t help but think as he pushed down the handle to his door with his elbow and entered the room. She’s going to think you’re super lame! I bet she’ll laugh her ass off when telling Liz about this.
I mean, come on! Breakfast in bed? What the fuck are you doing, Fletcher? he scolded himself as he stared over at Riley’s sleeping form. Creeping up on her while she’s asleep with a fucking tray filled with all of her favorite crap? Could you seem any more obsessed? You’re going to scare her off! What were you thinking?
All right, just run back downstairs as fast as you can, and she’ll never have to know, he told himself, turning on his heel as quietly as possible. Just give all of the food to Evan and make Jeremy drink this soy chai shit, and then all of the evidence will be—
“Max?”
Fan. Fucking. Tastic.
“What are you doing over there?”
Okay, don’t turn around, he silently panicked, keeping his back turned to Riley as he awkwardly held the tray up against his chest. Just pretend that you didn’t hear her and—
“Helloooo?”
“Uh,” he mumbled out, desperately racking his brain for any ideas on what to do next. “I’m just... um—”
“What are you holding?” Riley’s voice called out curiously. “Why are you dressed? Did you go somewhere? Where’d you go? What’s that wooden thing in your hands? Are you hiding something?”
God, she’s nosy, he silently grumbled, his knuckles turning white as they nervously gripped the tray’s handles. What is she, a detective? Why is she giving me the third degree? Why can’t she just—
“Max,” Riley sternly began. “Turn around.”
“I... I don’t want to.”
You are an idiot.
“What?” she replied, letting out a disbelieving laugh that caused a tingle to run up Max’s spine. “Stop being crazy and just turn around!”
“Do I have to?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as he did.
Smooth. Really smooth, Fletch.
“Max, what did you do now?” Riley cautiously asked, just as she always had ever since they were little kids on the verge of getting into trouble.
“I didn’t do anything,” he sighed out, his back stiffened in horror.
Sure you did. You let Evan talk you into making a huge ass of yourself.
“Then why won’t you just turn around and look at me?” Riley asked in a worried tone. “Did I... did I do something wrong?”
“No way!” he blurted out, instinctively turning around to face her without realizing it. “You could never—”
“Is all of that for me?” she suddenly asked, staring at the array of crap held in his hands as the corner of her lip began twitching in amusement.
“I just, you know, went around and picked up a couple of things,” he replied in his best attempt at a breezy tone while mentally bashing his head against the wall in frustration. “No biggie.”
You’re smothering her. You are literally smothering her with organic baked goods, he chastised himself. Seriously. What the fuck were you thinking?
“I... I’ve never had anyone bring me breakfast in bed before,” Riley said as she broke out into a big grin. “Well, Audrey did throw me a bag of Chex Mix one morning when I was too hungover to get up, but this is so much better.”
“You... you like it?” he squeaked out, trying not to turn beet red when he saw that she had his blanket demurely tucked under her bare arms.
Oh God, there are boobs under there.
Riley squinted her eyes at him in confusion, stifling a giggle as she observed the nervous look on his face. “Of course I like it. Why wouldn’t I like it?”
Thank you, Evan, he couldn’t help but think with glee as he proudly made his way over to the bed. And good job, me.
“I got all of your favorites,” Max bragged as he took a seat and placed the tray down in front of her. “I even remembered to get you soy in your drink.”
“How... why...” Riley mumbled, scanning the spread set before her before looking up at him with a shy smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he quietly replied, looking into her eyes with a tiny smirk on his own face.
Wait, should I kiss her? I should totally kiss her. Right now is the perfect moment to go in for a kiss, he frantically thought to himself as they continued to quietly smile at each other. Yea, just go for—
Okay, bad timing, he groaned silently, aborting his mission just as she broke his gaze and popped a chunk of scone into her mouth. Dammit, Fletcher, why the hell do you have to be so damn lame? Can’t you just make a move without—
All of the thoughts racing through his head came to a halt when Riley herself leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks again,” she said with a giggle, her cheeks flushing pink. “This was really sweet.”
Max merely let out an odd choking sound, his entire face burning in embarrassment as he stared back at her with widened eyes. Oh God, don’t die, he pleaded with himself, nervously clearing his throat as he turned his gaze towards the floor. And stop fucking turning red! What the hell is wrong with you?
“So,” Riley began, tearing off a piece of a chocolate croissant and handing it to Max. “When do you think we’ll stop being so awkward around each other?”
“What?” he barked back in surprise.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sarcastically replied, letting out a snort of laughter. “What am I even talking about? You’re being so smooth right now.”
“You’re not supposed to say those kinds of things out loud!”
“We can’t just ignore it,” Riley said with a shrug. “If we don’t talk about it soon, one of is eventually going to explode.”
“Ha,” Max retorted a bit too loudly. “Me? Explode? Yea right.”
“Uh-huh,” she dismissively replied. “So, anyway, let’s get some things straight.”
Oh God, she’s breaking it off right now, isn’t she?
“We obviously can’t ‘start slow’ since we’ve already seen each other naked and... stuff,” she began, pausing to let out an uncomfortable cough. “But we should still set some ground rules.”
Phew.
“Definitely,” he agreed with a small sigh of relief. “Fine, I’ll start. Rule #1—let’s try to act like we always have. I mean, everything’s exactly the same, right? Except, now, I just get to hold you whenever I want.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake, you pussy-whipped little bitch, he bemoaned to himself as he heard the words come out of his mouth. You sound like a 12-year-old girl.
“Er, yea,” Riley sheepishly replied before shaking her head slightly. “Okay. Rule #2—no more blushing.”
“Blushing?” he repeated, letting out a tiny scoff. “When did I ever even blush?”
Your neck is literally on fire right now, moron.
“Right,” she drawled out, grinning up at him in amusement. “Rule #3—we have to tell each other what’s on our minds. No secrets, no games and no lies. Okay?”
“No drama and no bullshit,” he confirmed with a nod. “Got it.”
“I’m serious, Max,” Riley firmly told him. “I don’t want our relationship to get all weird.”
“And I do?”
“I’m just really scared to lose you,” Riley quietly said. “You know, if this doesn’t work out or whatever. Liz and Audrey said that friends—”
“It’s going to work out,” Max heard himself immediately blurt out in response. “I... I just know it.”
“I h
ope so,” she replied with a tiny smile.
“I know so.”
“You’re breaking rule #2 right now.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stated defensively, just as the tips of his ears turned bright red and what he swore was a bead of sweat trickled down his back.
“Sure.”
“All right. Rule #4—no secret usage of dating apps behind each other’s backs.”
“Shut up,” Riley groaned out, rolling her eyes as he burst out into laughter. “Rule #5—no more mentions of dating apps.”
“Rule #6—no more tequila. Ever again.”
Riley fervently nodded her head as she took a sip of her drink. “Rule #7—we’re best friends first and... whatever this is second.”
“The most important one of all.”
“Agreed.”
Max let out a low whistle. “Those are a lot of rules, Benson.”
“Well, we have a lot of crap to take care of, Fletcher.”
“I think there’s something else that I’d rather take care of right now,” he said, smirking at her suggestively as he moved the tray to the floor and slowly pulled the blanket away from her.
“Max!” Riley shrieked, crossing her arms over her exposed chest.
“Look who’s breaking rule #2 now,” Max teased as he leaned in closer.
“I hate you,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose in embarrassment.
“And I like you,” he replied with a crooked smile.
“You’re breaking rule #7,” Riley whispered, gulping down the tiny lump that had formed in her throat as covertly as she could.
“Don’t care,” he mumbled as he gently brought his lips to hers.
And, as Riley’s eyes fluttered closed, it became very apparent that none of the rules ever really mattered anyway.
Twenty-four
“Riley Benson?”
“Yes! I mean, here! Er, I mean, yes, that’s me!”
The receptionist gave Riley a comforting smile and motioned for her to follow. “Right this way.”
Good going, fuckwad, Riley groaned to herself, plastering an overzealous smile on her face before scampering after the pantsuit-clad woman. Just calm your ass down and try not to ruin the rest of this interview, got it?
Just as he had promised, Max had helped Riley create her “real-life, grown-up” résumé, complete with her very own professional letterhead. Armed with the impeccably formatted document, she had been determined to master the delicate art of the job search and find the perfect post-graduate position for herself. Once she had scrolled through a variety of job boards, however, Riley had come to the crippling realization that she wasn’t actually qualified for most of the entry-level jobs that had been posted.
“Three years of experience?” she had groaned out to Liz in disbelief. “How is that fucking entry-level?”
“Didn’t you hear? ‘Entry-level’ is the new ‘experienced,’ and ‘unpaid internship’ is the new ‘entry-level,’” Liz had replied with a smirk. “Life’s just great, isn’t it?”
“Well, what are you going to do? Shouldn’t you start looking for a job too?”
Liz had merely let out a tired sigh, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “I’m waiting to hear back from a few grad schools. If those don’t work out, then I guess I better start looking soon.”
“Grad school?” Riley had blurted out in confusion. “Since when did you plan on going to grad school?”
Has everyone been planning out their futures this whole time? Riley had frantically wondered to herself as Liz proceeded to explain the graduate school admissions process to her. What if all of the jobs are taken already? What the hell am I going to do?
Fuck, I better get a move on.
And so, going against Max’s advice, Riley had resorted to binge-applying to hundreds of listings, not even bothering to read through some of the descriptions before attaching her résumé and clicking the submit buttons. After all, the odds of a hiring manager calling her back was undoubtedly higher with every additional opening that she applied to, right?
After what felt like an endless parade of failed phone interviews, Riley had started to lose hope. No matter how many practice questions she reviewed or answers she memorized, she always felt unprepared for the routine series of lame prompts that the bored recruiters prattled out over the line. Most of the telephone screenings ended in her mumbling out pathetic answers, her voice cracking and concentration wavering as her nerves took over. And, even following those rare occasions that she felt she had done well, she was disappointed to find that she never heard a peep from those companies again.
But it seemed as though her strategic applying had paid off, as one very well-known advertising company in particular had adamantly requested that she come in for an interview as soon as possible.
Eek! I’m going to be like a modern day female Don Draper, she had squealed to herself in delight upon skimming over the e-mail they had sent one early Monday morning. I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe! I wonder if that office does Casual Fridays...
“Have a seat. Brian will be with you in a moment,” his assistant informed her upon greeting her inside of a large conference room. “Can I get you any water? Tea?”
“No, thank you,” Riley tittered out with a bright grin on her face as the young girl nodded her head and left the room. Once the door had clicked shut, she immediately let out the anxious sigh she had been holding since stepping foot into the office building’s shiny lobby.
Don’t mess this up, she instructed herself, clasping her hands together before awkwardly dropping them to her sides, ultimately proceeding to rest them gently atop the leather-bound portfolio sitting on her lap. Legs crossed? No, just plant your feet on the floor. Wait, cross your legs at your ankles—
Fuck! What are you doing? Who cares! Okay, let’s go over this again. If he asks you to give a brief introduction, tell him that you’re a Communications Major who’s graduating this upcoming June, and that you’re eager to start your career in advising. No, not advising, stupid! Advertising!
Oh God, it’s hot in here. Should I have asked for water? Ugh, my voice is going to crack, isn’t it? Dammit, Benson, you should’ve fucking asked for water! And why did you pick this chair? How awkward! You should’ve sat down in the one over there. Should I move?
Agh, forget the damn chair. Moving on. Where do you see yourself in ten years? As an Advertising Associate? Crap, what’s the title for a manager at this company? Senior Associate? Associate Director? Why didn’t you look this up before you came?
God, I’m so unprepared. Whatever, I’m just going to have to wing it. Okay, so, greatest weakness? Shit, what was my greatest weakness again? Paying too much attention to detail? No, that wasn’t it. What did that article say again? Was it setting too many—
“Riley?” a man’s cheerful voice called out, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Brian Johnson. Great to meet you.”
Plastering a saccharine smile onto her face, Riley shot up from her chair and reached her hand out to shake his extended one. “Hello, Mr. Johnson,” she began in as firm of a voice as she could muster. “Thank you very much for meeting with me today.”
“Thank you for coming in,” the impeccably groomed man in front of her replied as they both took their seats. Shooting her another toothy grin, he plucked her résumé from the pile of papers in his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I must say, I was very pleased when your résumé landed on my desk.”
You were?
“You’ve got quite the list of accomplishments here. I think you’d make a great addition to the team,” he continued, scanning her résumé with interest. “But before we start, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself?”
Riley gave a little nod before gently clearing her throat. “Well, as you can see, I majored in Communication Studies and am planning to graduate this upcoming June. I’ve always been interested in advertising, and I’ve taken a few courses in Media Strategies and Ma
ss Communication—”
“Wait a minute,” he interrupted, a slightly perplexed frown on his face. “It says here that you graduated last year?”
“Last year?” Riley repeated in confusion.
Brian peered at her curiously. “With an MBA from Stanford?”
“Stan...ford...?”
“Are you not Riley Gorschowitz?”
Who the hell is Riley Gorschowitz?
After surveying the stricken look on Riley’s face, Brian let out a low whistle. “I apologize. There must have been some sort of clerical error or misunderstanding down in HR. I, uh... ha, this has never happened before.”
Riley gave off her best attempt at an easygoing laugh, though it just came out from her mouth as a warbled wail of some sort.
“Well, since you’re here, I could still tell you a bit about the company,” Brian offered, an awkward smile on his face. “We’re a digital media advertising firm with a number of offices around the globe...”
Oh. My. God, she moaned to herself, barely paying attention as Brian blabbered on about what a great agency it was. I knew this was too good to be true! But, seriously, what the fuck? Is this a joke? How does this even happen? Is the universe playing a prank on me?
“We have people from all sorts of backgrounds on our team, from analysts to strategists to researchers,” he was saying. “All with many years of experience, though, of course,” he seemingly felt the need to add, as if to reiterate to Riley that she wasn’t fit to fill any of the open positions at hand.
Make it stop, she pleaded to no one in particular as she nodded along to his spiel. Please, just make it stop so I can go home and cry into my tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“We do have internship opportunities available,” Brian hinted, shooting her an encouraging smile. “Unfortunately, all of the spots for the summer have been filled, but I’d be more than happy to keep your résumé on hand should any future positions open up in the internship program.”
Great, I’m not even eligible to be a fucking intern, Riley grumbled as she nodded good-naturedly at his proposal. “That sounds great,” she chirped out, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as her butt grew numb. “And thank you so much for taking the time to tell me more about the agency. It seems like a very good place to learn a lot about every aspect of the advertising industry.”
