Benny snorts a laugh. “So you said. And yet you’re thesocial media intern? How does that happen?”
“I’m themarketing intern.” I raise a finger to correct him, though the other title would be just as fitting thus far. “And I used to be on social media. I keep up with trends and stuff. I justdidn’t have the best experience with the…the public scrutiny, I guess. If you could call the couple thousand people I went to high school with the public.”
“That’s weird,” he says with an earnestness in his voice and expression that catches me off guard, as much as the fact that he just called me weird. “I mean, not you. But the fact that anyone would ‘scrutinize’ you. What’s not to like? You seem like Little Miss Perfect.”
My cheeks flush. “Hardly. But I don’t know, it—it’s hard to explain. And it’s not your problem anyway.”
I all but spit the last part out, trying to reestablish some distance between us. Benny nudges my side with his elbow, a move that startles me so much I skip a step. He coughs, trying and failing to cover his laugh, then clears his throat. “You know, you can make it my problem if you want. That’s what allies do, right? Help each other with their problems?”
There’s a split second after his words settle in. Then I shake my head, picking up my pace to walk ahead of him up the next hilly stretch of sidewalk.
“Are we allies? I must have missed that somewhere between you teasing me about my accent and my name and a heap of other things.”
Benny is jogging to catch up with me. “Hey, I said Ilikeyour accent and then you teasedmefor that. And if I remember correctly, one of the first things I ever said to you was that you share a name with the best candy ever. It’s like all my usual charmgoes”—he lets out a slow whistle and coasts one of his hands a few inches over the top of my head—“right over this lovely blond noggin.”
I scoff, turning the corner onto the street with our dorms. The sky is getting uncharacteristically dark for an otherwise pretty summer day. “Listen, Benny. If we’re going to work together, there’s gonna be no more of this…charmoffensive you’re apparently trying to wage. It’s not going to work. We are coworkers, and that isit.Not allies, friends, or anything else. You’d better get it through that irritatingly symmetrical skull of yours ASAP.”
He raises an eyebrow suggestively, his crooked grin kicking up. “Oh? What’s the ‘anything else’ you speak of, Reese’s Pieces? I only offered allyship—any other ideas are all yours.”
A disbelieving laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You’re gonna run out of Reese’s candy varieties very soon, Benzoyl Peroxide.”
Benny stuffs his hands in his pockets, his chest a little too puffed out as my building comes into sight. “Have you considered that maybe I can’t help it, that I’m just effortlessly charming?”
“I haven’t actually, because I don’t care. You should quit it either way. I’m not interested,” I huff.
We walk in silence for a few moments, the noise of the city fading into the slightly quieter buzz of the campus, but I swear, I can hear the wheels in his mind turning. I’ve almost reached my dorm’s entrance when he pauses by the fountain.
Then he calls out, “Irritatingly symmetrical, huh?”
And he’s on his way, splitting off toward his dorm.
I shake my head as I enter the building and climb the stairs to my room, but my own wheels are turning, and my pulse is picking up speed. And unfortunately, I’m thinking about the moment when he offered, not for the first time, to be my ally. If I’m totally honest with myself, I don’t know that the offer is disingenuous. I’m starting to believe that, despite us angling for the same fall job, Benny might actually think we can and should be on the same little intern team this summer. Weirder still is that some part of me warms to the idea, if only for a couple of seconds.
But rationally I know that letting myself entertain the prospect of being his ally or friend is ridiculous. Our relationship will continue to exist firmly in the No Feelings Zone that is the workplace. At the end of the summer, only one of us will get to stay at Friends of Flavor, and it’d better be me.
Now, if only my rational head could get my racing heart on the same page.
When I pull open the glass doors to Friends of Flavor the next day, Teagan excitedly waves me over to her desk.
“Oh my God, it’s the newest star of Friends of Flavor! Can I have your autograph?” she trills at a ridiculously high pitch.
“Stop that!” I hiss, covering my face with my hands. “And I promise you don’t want my autograph. My school didn’t really teach cursive.”
She mimes smacking her forehead with her hand. “Youths these days. How do they expect you to get jobs? To function in the world?”
I shrug with faux wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know. I did learn how to square dance in gym class.”
“Now, there’s a marketable skill. But seriously, your video was so cute! Have your family and friends back home been watching?”
“A few have,” I say, eager to change the subject. “Margie and Aiden asked us to do more. Benny and me. Our own series.”
“I heard—how exciting! And yeeeaaah, Benny,” she drawls with a gleam in her eye. “What’s his deal? Is he single?”
“Easy there, cradle robber,” I tease, even though she’s only a few years older than me. “I don’t know, though. He’s…a lot.”
“Hmm. A lot, huh? A lot of arms and chest and probably abs, too…” She trails off, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
I roll my eyes and start to walk away. “Byyyeee, Teagan.”
