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But there was a lot of work to do before that race came. I had been working on coming up with more ideas on how to ramp up the social media platforms and make them more interesting and appealing. I knew if I did it right, we could pack the stands with even more fans and get them riled up and excited about supporting both Greg and Darren. After everybody left, Quentin looked at me and gestured to one of the chairs closer to him.
“Thanks for staying. I haven’t had much of a chance to work directly with you, and I wanted to check in with how everything is progressing. Especially with the first race coming up, I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he said.
“Everything is going great,” I told him. “I was actually planning on trying to find a time to meet up with you at this week to go over my plans. So, this is perfect.”
“Great. Why don’t we sit down and go over what you’re thinking, and we’ll see if there’s anything we can tighten up or change…” He hesitated. “Not that I think you aren’t doing your job or that I’m going to tell you how to do it or anything.”
I shook my head. “I get it.”
We both let out awkward, somewhat uncomfortable laughs and sat down. I was glad I’d thought to grab my messenger bag and was able to take out files with printouts of my plans. Spreading them out on the table, I started going over them, explaining each approach and how I intended on scheduling the posts and encouraging interaction with followers. Quentin listened with much more attention and interest than I expected him to, even giving insights and suggestions as we went.
“I think you understand social media better than you think you do,” I told him after a particularly good suggestion that had me rethinking an entire day of posts.
“Maybe we won’t go that far. But I’m starting to get a hold of it a little better,” he admitted.
Before I could say anything else, my stomach made a loud rumbling sound. I laughed and looked down at the time. I hadn’t realized we had been sitting there for more than an hour already.
“Apparently I’m hungry,” I said.
“Apparently.” My stomach growled again, and he laughed.
“All right, all right, I believe you,” he said.
I started gathering all the papers from the table. “Why don’t we leave this for now and pick it up again later? It’s getting late. Everybody is probably gone by now. I know you don’t want to keep hanging out here talking about this stuff into the night.”
“Do you have somebody waiting for you at home?” he asked.
My mouth fell open slightly, and I looked over at him. “What?”
“I just meant you seem eager to rush off. I was just wondering if that’s because you have somebody you want to get home to,” he clarified.
The heat coming up on my cheeks embarrassed me even more, but I covered it by looking into my bag like I was checking for something.
“No,” I told him. “No one at home waiting for me. I just figured you spend so much time around here as it is, you wouldn’t want to be kept here all night going over stuff you don’t like anyway. I can just bring all your comments and suggestions home with me, work on it some more, and we’ll meet up again.”
“Like I said, I’m getting used to the social media stuff. And I’m seeing how important it truly is to our brand. Why don’t we just order some dinner and keep going?” he suggested. “I mean, if you’re okay with that?”
Before I even responded, he’d pulled out his phone and dialed a number that seemed extremely familiar to him. I had the feeling this was not the first time he had called that particular number to bring food to the office.
Half an hour later, he left the meeting room to meet with the delivery driver and came back with two huge bags of food. He spread out a pile of individually wrapped street-style tacos, chips, and guacamole, then went to the breakroom and came back with drinks. The food smelled incredible, and it took all the control I could muster not to just throw myself headlong into the pile and eat my way out. I did manage to keep my composure and selected only one of the tacos. But I couldn’t hold back the groan when I took my first bite.
“Good?” Quentin asked.
“It’s delicious,” I told him.
“My favorite restaurant for takeout,” he said. “More often than not, if I’m here at the office late and want some dinner, this is what I’m getting.”
“I can see why. It’s a good choice,” I told him.
We looked over at each other, and I felt another flutter. Dragging my eyes away from him, I took another massive bite of taco to distract me and went back to rambling about the plans. It was a pleasant surprise that while Quentin clearly wasn’t going to become a social media convert anytime soon, he was open to what I had to say and accepted it was going to work for him. By the time we finished eating and had gone over everything several times, I felt one hundred percent more comfortable with him and with our working relationship. Maybe it really was possible for us to get along and to work together effectively.
