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The look I give him cuts him off.
“Alright, alright!” He laughs, then whistles as he heads out with the trash, leaving the door open behind him. I hear him hop down the stairs.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter with a text from Alan. I glance at it.
We need to talk, it reads.
I frown in thought, staring at that text for far too long. Those four words are never good news. I am quite certain that that precise sentence has started every conversation in boyfriends-breaking-up history, those four dreaded words.
We need to talk? About what, Alan? Can’t you just be direct? Haven’t I had a bad enough day?
Then my phone rings at once, startling me—but it isn’t Alan calling to talk.
It’s a number from Wales Weekly.
19
I wash my hands with record speed, hurry into my room, shut the doors, then answer. “Hello?”
“Hello. This is Irving Wales. Mr. Hill?”
“That’s—” I choke on my own tongue, clear my throat, then try again. “That’s me, yes. Hello, Mr. Wales, sir. How’s your day?”
I cringe.
How’s your day? Really?
“Well, it was going rather alright,” he politely replies, indulging me, “until I learned from Brenda that you had quit. I was very sorry to hear that, Connor. You’re the first intern in ten years to quit my program. I’m not sure if you knew that. May I ask why you left?”
I stare at the window to the fire escape. Even though it’s the wrong time of day with the sunlight pouring in, I picture me and Lex standing at that rusty railing, concocting a ridiculous scheme to fix my problem. I know now that, had I actually gone through with the plan, it would have only made my problems worse. Far worse.
Now, all I have to deal with is the eggplant in my shorts. And the loss of my internship.
And this phone call. “I’m sorry that I had to leave,” I tell him rather truthfully. “I guess I just … felt like it wasn’t a right fit for me. The internship.”
“I’ll tell you what. Can you come back to the office today?”
My heart skips a beat. “Sir …”
“Go directly to Brenda, and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and speak with you in my office. Today, as soon as you can. Preferably by six, though. Liu hates when I work late.”
“Sir, I …”
“I will see you soon, Mr. Hill.” And with that, the man hangs up.
I stare at my phone, stunned.
Then I peer down at my boner. Well, Mr. Wales is going to have to wait another hour at the very least.
In time, my drugged erection’s little pants-party reaches its end, and I can comfortably fit it back into my slacks. My arms slip into my shirt, and I knot my tie back around my neck, staring at my half-freaked-out eyes in the mirror of the messy bathroom I haven’t cleaned yet.
It feels like my first day all over again.
Why is he so insistent on speaking to me?
Brett is still gone by the time I head out, so I leave a note on the counter telling him where I’ve headed off to, then make my way the eleven blocks to the station, hop on the next train, and off I go to the place I said I’d never again step foot in.
The building greets me with its cold air, filling my lungs and licking my skin. I get on the elevator and stare at my icy reflection on the back of the shiny elevator door.
Ding.
I walk down the long, long hall of boardrooms, meeting rooms, and offices. On the way, I pass by Bree, whose nose is buried in a tablet. She glances up briefly, sees me, then stops in place, shocked. I give her a tiny shrug as I go, then proceed onward with her baffled eyes glued to my back.
I stand in front of Brenda’s desk, just like that first day. She peers up from her computer, and in place of her usual irritable expression, there is only a wistful stare, like a frozen sigh without breath.
“Hi,” I greet her. “Mr. Wales—”
“I know. This way,” she directs me, rising from her seat and guiding me down a different hall that we interns never utilize. The walls seem to close in on me the farther down I go, and with every step of my anxious feet, I feel my heart thump louder, as if in competition.
She opens a door and gestures. I step inside, and then she leaves, closing the door behind me.
Mr. Wales glances up from his desk. Though I’ve seen his picture on the website and in several interviews, I always assumed they were old mugs. In person, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that he is, indeed, a very handsome man for his age, just like he appears in his photos. He has a full head of deep brown hair, a round face, and plump lips. His eyes are kind as they gaze at me, the way I might picture him looking at a friend who’s come to visit.
