Page 21 of Not Friends


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I closed the door behind me and followed her down the hall.

Carmen rubbed her hands together. “It’s the second time for me today, actually. I played a quick game after lunch with your Denver guy. Quite the charmer. I told him I was friends with you, and he said you didn’t have any friends.”

“That…” I sputtered, while every swear word known to mankind flipped through my head.

“Idiota. I know. And then, when I got irritated with him for saying it, he apologized from the depths of his heart and offered to buy me a dessert off the lunch cart.”

“Did you take him up on it?”

“No, but I did hit him with as many dodgeballs as possible. Except, he must have assumed that was my way of flirting with him, because he left a slice of chocolate cake on my desk later next to a sticky note saying how nice it was to meet me.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“With dodgeballs. We’ll gang up on him. Come on, they only give us fifteen minutes for the game before it’s back-to-work time. It’s a stress-reliever to stretch out our muscles, make us more productive, build relationships across departments…”

“Prepare us for falling meteorites during the apocalypse. I get it, chica. Let’s go.”

We passed up the elevators where too many people were congregating and took the stairs instead. Even in the stairwell, there were dopey power affirmations all over.“Hello, friend! Good morning! I hope you have a ridiculously amazing day!”

“Almost there,” Carmen sang out. This place was so her. “Oh, and you’ll have to take off your shoes and put on a pair of grippy socks they keep in a basket by the door.”

She decided to make a last-minute detour into the bathroom, so I shed my boots and headed into the dodgeball room without her, eager to get in game time while I could. Everyone else was gabbing, which seemed like such a waste in a facility like this. The cushioned floors angled up to meet the walls, and all the walls were covered in customized protective gym mats.

It wasn’t hard to find my target among the other employees. I always noticed Denver. He was deep in conversation with some short guy, and my traitorous mind did what it always did when I saw him. It quickly assessed everything it liked about his appearance. Did I hate his style? Yes. But that didn’t mean it didn’t work for him. Denver’s arms were crossed, showing off his amazing biceps in a polo shirt that was purposely fitted to accentuate the positive. His blond hair had the perfect amount of playfulness and touchability. When something amused him, his eyes crinkled up in the corners and his megawatt smile came out to play. The slacks he was wearing? Five stars. Five stupid, stupid stars. Man, I hated how good he looked in them. Right at that moment, he threw back his head and laughed, the image of charm and relaxation. That had to end.

No one was blocking my shot at the moment, so I headed straight for the line of balls in the middle of the floor, swiped one, took casual, yet deadly, aim, and… got the short guy next to him right in the side of the head. Oops. I doubted it hurt, but it had to be a little jarring.

I picked up another ball before I lost my opportunity and tried again. I swear it veered right at the last millisecond just to tick me off, hitting the short guy again, this time dead in the forehead, as he’d turned to look at me after the first hit.

Frustrated, I went to pick up another ball, but Carmen jumped into my line of sight, waving me off like an overly enthusiastic crossing guard. “Hey, buddy.” She gripped my throwing arm, giggling nervously. “Hey, um, you’re not supposed to start until someone strikes the gong. Also, that guy you keep hitting is one of our angel investors visiting for the day. He’s worth like three billion dollars.”

“What?” I’d been so focused on my goal of hitting Denver, that it never occurred to me to notice anything else. Like how the buzz of voices in the room had dropped to amused whispers, or that everyone was now staring at me, Denver included. He wore a smug little smile I didn’t like one bit. The investor guy just looked confused.

“I didn’t know there was dodgeball etiquette!” I whispered, willing my face to obey me and not heat up. I was not embarrassed. I was not. Except, instead of throwing Denver off his game, I’d only reinforced the idea that he was the insider here and I was the outsider. It wasn’t a new feeling for me, but it was especially irritating today, considering Denver was as new as I was.

But I wasn’t one to pout or fret, and I wouldn’t now. “Where is this gong?”

I spotted it across the room and headed straight for it, ignoring Carmen’s warnings as she followed right behind me. Honestly, didn’t she get that the only way to make this situation worse would be admitting defeat? I picked up the mallet next to the gong and gave it a good whack, filling the room with a sound I’d only heard on TV. Then I picked up another ball to aim at Denver.

Chapter 12 – Denver

Being a dodgeball ninja hadn’t seemed like a particularly useful skill until Sadie made it her personal mission to take me out. She hadn’t hit me once in the two weeks I’d been here, even when she waged sneak attacks. I always managed to dodge out of the way or catch the ball. It was the gift that kept on giving. Her frustrated face and increasingly wild throws were the greatest thing ever.

Unfortunately, dodgeball was the only highlight of my time here, because so far, I hadn’t been able to leave training. GoWithFriends was laidback about a lot of things, but they took user privacy and security very seriously. For a small portion of the day, I responded to comments on their social media ads while someone watched and assisted. But that was as close as I got to interacting with real clients. All the other hours of my day were spent in training.

People who asked for a secret BFF needed handholding for a reason. Some had been burned by bad relationships or untrustworthy friends, some were terrified of awkward pauses, and some had the opposite problem—they couldn’t stop saying stupid things and needed a guide. Either way, it was a lot of responsibility, and right now, my job was to prepare.

On Friday, I got assigned a desk upstairs with a chance to check on the online group chats. Still not acting as a BFF, but at least I’d finally see what I was getting into.

Marcel led the way, amused by my excitement over receiving a new assignment. “Just hold onto that enthusiasm, man. These groups are usually pretty boring. One of the chatrooms I’m giving you is really into newsraiding right now.”

“Should I know what that is?”

“No. Nobody should know what that is.” Marcel shook his head. “But unfortunately, I do. It means they try to get on camera as a hobby. Like, they try to get into the background of as many news reports as possible. Or in the audience on morning shows. It’s weird, man. Who makes a group date out of that?”

“I didn’t think the algorithm grouped people by hobbies.”

“It doesn’t. But the longer they talk online, the more they start adopting each other’s interests. We have another group that’s into flash mobs. That’s what they do when they get together. And once you’re a BFF, you have to be into whatever they are. It’s part of the job.”

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