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Trevor might be the fish that sticks.
Assuming I can control myself and not eat him whole.
“That Trevor, though …”
Her mention of his name pitches an icicle through my gut. I face her sharply. “Sorry?”
“Trevor. The one I know you’re looking at.”
I’m defensive instantly, my smile crumpled up like a ball of misprinted copy room paper. “I was looking at all of them. I don’t play favorites.”
“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean—”
You’re reacting too much. Cool it down. “Trevor is outstanding,” I note casually, “but so is Jimmy, who’s showed great promise. And Ashlee, who is quick as a whip. And the tall one, Brady.”
Rebekah winces a bit. “Well, that Brady seems a bit inflated.”
“Sometimes we have to puff up to scare the smaller fish away. Or the bigger fish.” I glance at the interns again. Trevor’s back is facing me now, his tight tush perfectly in my line of sight.
Of course he’d unknowingly torture me with that ass when I’m in the middle of playing emotional hopscotch with my career.
Rebekah’s smile is tight. She lifts her pointy chin with a pinch of mustered dignity. “I didn’t mean to compare Brady to a blowfish, Mr. Gage. I just meant he comes off a bit strong, a bit … pushy.”
“We all do,” I point out, thinking about how I want to push into Trevor right about now.
“I’m just saying that Trevor, however—”
“He will have to prove himself, just like the others.”
“Of course. Right.”
I make my way toward my office, inwardly aghast with myself while keeping a perfectly straight face. I can’t even believe what I said to her. Am I that terrified of our little secret getting spilled to the office? Do I really have to show such staunch impartiality by acting like Trevor Woodard means as little to me as any of the other interns? If I wasn’t involved with him, I would be noting his good work ethic and teamwork, and then making light of his first impression to me: crashing to my feet with an explosion of copier toner down his front. Trevor is, above and beyond, my best.
And here I am, conveying to Rebekah that he still has yet to impress me.
I shut the door heavily at my back, flip on the lights, and drop into my office chair. Or, more accurately, I aim for my office chair, miss completely, and crash ass-first onto the ground.
Yes, the blinds are open, and the whole floor can see me on my ass through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
I climb to my feet, entirely unable to play off the act as some clever little dance. With a glance at the window, I see twenty faces quickly turn back to their work, pretending they totally didn’t just witness my … miscalculation.
But I have bigger balls to bust. Namely, my own.
Trevor isn’t the enemy. I have to remember that. When I shut my eyes, all I see is Trevor’s face as we talked on the way home for hours and chatted away about everything last night. I expected Trevor to be pooped when we got to the airport, but instead, he was invigorated. He was like a kid who couldn’t stop going on about some amazing movie he just saw—except he had a role in it. He curled up with me on the small leather couch on the jet and spilled stories of his life at college, telling me about all his classes. I listened as we casually cuddled, caring about nothing to do with clients or computers or Beverly Hills’ teenaged tools. I was fully invested in him, and he was lit up like a Christmas light.
And then the flight landed and our night ended. We drove to his place, shared a sweet kiss, then I watched him step inside. When I got home, I worked out my sexual aggression for a solid hour in my gym, took the steamiest shower I’d taken all week, then slipped into bed and slept like a brick at four in the morning.
I have to be cool whenever Trevor’s name is mentioned in the office. He’s one of my top interns, and he caught Rebekah’s eye. It’s inevitable that he’s going to be noticed by others, too. I have to be okay with that and treat him just like I would anyone else who’s receiving due praises, regardless of my intensifying feelings.
No special treatment. And no not special treatment.
Didn’t Trevor say that himself, once?
26
Trevor is a team player.
No special treatment. That’s what I said I wanted.
So I shouldn’t be mad, really, when Rebekah summons three interns to assist a special team headed by Ben to fashion a plan of action for one of his clients—three interns that do not include me.
Really, it’d be a bad idea to be in there with them, working so close with Benjamin after the night we just had. Right?
