“R-Reese,” I stammer, because apparently that’s a thing I do now. I clear my throat and try again. “It’s so great to meet you. I’m a huge fan, um, of your videos, obviously, but I’ve also been a reader of the Kat’s Muse for a long time. It—I mean, you—well, my friends back home and I, we find it so inspiring.”
That is the biggest understatement. I find myself in so many situations on a regular basis thinking,What would Katherine do?
Even in this moment, coming off an uncomfortable meeting with the highest higher-up of the company, I wonder what she would do if she was me. Or has shebeenme? Has she ever faced this kind of weirdness with Geoffrey Block, CEO? If I knew her any better, I might ask her. In my head, she’s this big-sister figure who has all the answers and cheers me on. But in reality, she’s a near stranger who has no reason to be more than politely indifferent to the new intern.
Her chin dips in acknowledgment as she releases my hand, her lips tipping up in a closed-mouth smile. “Thank you, that’s sweet. Oh, this is Rajesh”—he gives me a two-fingered wave—“and I think we were just about to go up to the porch and hang out awhile. Raj?”
Rajesh nods and shoots me a toothy grin. “Sure, yeah. Good to meet you, Reese. See ya, Benny.”
I’m confused by the abrupt getaway, but when I turn to see Benny hiding a smile as he scratches behind one of the dog’s ears, it makes sense.
“I blew that, didn’t I? I totally ran her off.” I huff a disbelieving laugh and drop to my butt on the grass. The two dogs lacking Benny’s attention come over and crowd my space, so I stretch out my arms to each side to accommodate two simultaneous belly rubs.
Benny sits beside me. The dog he’s been petting curls up against his thigh, laying its head in his lap, and really, can they not right now? It’s too much. Cute overload.
“Nah, I don’t think you were over the top. My impression so far is Katherine’s just humble and doesn’t like talking about herself.” He pauses, his eyes sliding to mine as his mouth edges into a smirk. “I can’t tell, though. Do you have a bigger crush on her or Seb?”
I reach out and push his shoulder lightly, and one of the dogs lifts its head in dismay at the loss of my hand on his belly. I promptly resume rubbing, but not without another withering glance at the boy beside me.
He’s right, of course. I might as well be the president of Katherine’s nonexistent—for now, at least—fan club. But I like to think that if I hadn’t just been thrown off-balance by a creepy company executive, I could have hidden it better. I let out a sigh, and as if he can read my thoughts, Benny speaks again, his voice both quieter and harder.
“That was weird back there with the Block guy, right?”
Hearing him acknowledge it aloud, some of my tension deflates. I release another long breath, this time flopping backward so I’m lying down in the grass.
“Weird is one word. Also rude, inappropriate, enraging,” I say in a rush, bringing a hand to my forehead. “I couldn’t tell how much you noticed.”
“Of course I noticed,” he says with a touch of defensiveness, crossing his arms over his chest. “He didn’t complimentmyclothes or look at me anywhere but my face. I mean, what the hell?”
It’s oddly satisfying, hearing his validation and knowing I wasn’t imagining things. I mean, Iknew.But it’s so hard not to second-guess yourself every time something like that happens, to wonder if you’re overreacting or making something out of nothing. I give Benny a weak smile of acknowledgment, but my heart isn’t in it. It feels like it’s sitting in a pressure cooker back at the prep kitchens.
“I wish I could be as shocked as you are,” I bite out. I let my fingers glide back and forth through the dogs’ thick goldenfur, trying to draw on the relaxed energy of these lovely creatures. “Unfortunately, it’s upsetting but not all that surprising. As much as I know that sucks, that I should be able to expect better from grown-ass men, that it shouldn’t have even crossed my mind whether this dress was appropriate when I was getting ready, I shouldn’t be regretting my choice to wear it. I should be able to wear whatever I damn well please and yet…ugh.”
I stand up and start pacing. One of the dogs also gets up and trails me, and it would be adorable if I wasn’t so pissed off. The valve has been loosened, and I can’t stop now. “You know, it’s not like this is even an exceptionally revealing dress. I packed it thinking it’d be one of my work outfits for the summer, with a blazer or something. But then they went over the dress code on the first day, and I worried it would be too short. I mean, it’s fingertip-length, but barely. I thought it’d be okay outside the office. Itisokay, dammit. He’s the one in the wrong.”
Benny is quiet and when I look at him full-on again, his brow is wrinkled in confusion. “What dress code?”
I come to a halt, my own confusion mirroring his. “The…dress code at Friends of Flavor? Aiden talked about it my first day in the office when I sat down with him and Margie for an orientation.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize we had one.”
I step closer, crossing my arms over my chest. “They—I mean, he— No one told you about the dress code?”
He shakes his head, looking almost apologetic. I look backtoward the sunset, narrowing my eyes. I mean, it could be nothing—Aiden could have just forgotten it amid all the other info he has to dump in an orientation. But something deep down—something that feels like the CEO’s leering and his subsequent brush-off—prods at me, and I feel awfully inclined to believe the omission wasn’t an accident.
“That’s bullshit,” I say under my breath, but apparently not quietly enough, as Benny straightens.
“Hey, I’m sure he meant to tell me. He probably just figured I wouldn’t wear anything shorter than fingertip-length in the first place, so…”
Oh.Oh, bless his heart. He’s trying to reorient us with a little humor.
“That’s just it, though,” I say, my voice strained with the anger I’m struggling to control. “The rules don’t apply to you. The dress code’s entire purpose is to police women’s bodies.”
“Care to elaborate?” Benny asks more softly, sincerity in his gaze.
I sigh. This—a work function with a guy I barely know whose main source of entertainment seems to be antagonizing me in the kitchen—likely isn’t the time for such a discussion, to let the angry feminist within me come out. But on the other hand, maybe it’s better to scare him off now, before he gets too comfortable with the less-authentic-but-easier-to-handle version of Reese.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been told how to be modest,to look ‘professional,’ to dress and carry myself in a way that will make people respect me. They always put it in nicer words, but the message is the same—that my body, my legs, my chest, my shoulders, my stomach, it all needs to be tucked in and hidden away. If it isn’t, I’m not taken seriously. I’m giving everyone the wrong idea. I’m distracting boys from their education and work. It’s…well, it’s bullshit. And it’s the reason why my instinctive response to that garbage back there”—I gesture to the deck—“is to wonder if it’s my fault for wearing this dress. If someone is so overcome by those two extra inches of thigh I’m showing that they can’t do their job, or converse with me like I’m a human being, that’stheirproblem, you know? Why do I have to mold my appearance and behavior around their lack of respect or self-control, or whatever?”
