Page 2 of See You Next Tuesday

“Are you serious?” Anya tried to be polite, but the question was absurd. “The Union Leader has him polling at two percent.”

“Wow, so you don’t believe in him at all.” Gabe leaned in conspiratorially and dropped his voice low. “Does the senator know you feel this way?”

“You’re hilarious.” Anya folded her arms, which brought out her cleavage in her scoop-neck tee, and Gabe obviously noticed, and snickered, and oh god, did he think she’d done that on purpose? He pushed through the back door into the sunny morning, and she hurried to follow.

“So if you don’t think Senator Beihl can win, that means you’re here for something else,” Gabe mulled, turning to look at Anya as he walked. “Are you hoping to make some connections? Build out your network so you can hop on another primary after Beihl drops out?”

“Because the only reason I’d be on this campaign is that it might be good for me?”

“If you don’t think Beihl can win—”

“It’s not always about winning!”

Gabe abruptly stopped walking and turned to face her as they reached the parking lot.

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

She knew he was goading her, but she was completely unable to resist the bait.

“Mike Beihl is a progressive hero and a great leader,” she started, “and his message is good for the country. If we do our jobs here and move the needle to the left with voters, we kick the door open a little wider so the next progressive has a better shot. And even if we don’t move the needle at all, even if we fail completely, I would still rather work for a candidate I actually believe in than spend my life trying to get worked up about some empty suit just because I think he might win.”

“Wooooow.” Gabe let out a long exhale.

“What?” Anya shifted her weight, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Nothing, it’s sweet. Next you’ll tell me your career goal is to make people’s lives better and change the world.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Anya said. “My parents protested for civil rights, and against Vietnam. They raised me to believe I could do something meaningful with my life, and someday when I have kids, I want to pass the same values down to them.”

“It’s cute how your values make you all huffy,” Gabe teased.

“Adorable that I actually believe in things,” she said dryly. “What’s your goal, then?”

“Oh, you know, run a presidential campaign, win the White House, be on the cover of Time, get remembered as one of the greatest political operatives in history.”

“What are you doing here, then?” she scoffed. “If you’re all about winning, why are you working for a candidate who has no shot?”

“Simple. No serious players at this campaign, they’re all working for one of your ‘empty suits.’ While they go negative knocking each other bloody, I’ll be climbing the ladder here with my hands squeaky-clean. Whichever one of them wins, they’ll be much happier to hire me than someone who worked for one of their real enemies.”

He looked so pleased with himself, Anya couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I mean, come on! You’re a staffer in a New Hampshire field office, not conducting international espionage. You don’t need to make some grand plan like you’re a character in A Game of Thrones.”

“What’s that?” Gabe frowned.

“A fantasy novel.”

“Princesses and elves?”

“More like dragons and incest, but close enough,” Anya cracked.

“Ohhhhhh, so that’s why you’re not into me. I’m not your cousin.”

“What?!” Anya sputtered. “It’s just a book! And they’re twins! I’m not— I certainly don’t—”

“Twins? Wow.” Gabe turned to face her again. “And I was kidding. You’re obviously into me.”

His eyes flashed, and in that second it was clear to Anya that he was into her, which made blood rush to her cheeks where it was immediately visible under her creamy complexion, and Gabe was looking at her like this was a tennis match that he’d already won.