The next morning kicks off with a mandatory company meeting. Some surprise announcement. I’m annoyed at first because the last time we had a surprise meeting, it was to scold us about tidying up the break room better. I’m not in the mood for a lecture, but it saves me from listening to Tate physically assault his keyboard for the rest of the morning, so I’m tepidly on board. He beats that thing like it owes him money.
I find a corner seat in the back. The AC kicks on from the ceiling vent above, blowing freezing air directly on me. I glance up and shiver, then slide over to the next chair. There’s a soft thud next to me before Tate’s blond curls bleed into my peripheral vision. I roll my eyes, but then there’s warmth. The fabric of our sleeves barely touches, but I can still feel the heat from his body skimming across my arm. He’s like a human radiator. The comfort is so unnerving, I have to lean away.
“Scooting away from me? Are we in preschool?” he says, scribbling on the yellow notepad he always carries. He’s a diligent notetaker in every meeting I’ve ever seen him in.
A faint evergreen scent hits, throwing me further off kilter. His cologne. My mind flashes to a lush green forest in the Pacific Northwest. The pleasant image it conjures makes me want to smile, but I bite it back. Why must someone so unpleasant smell so delicious?
Refocusing, I side-eye him cattily, zeroing in on his outfit of jeans, gray T-shirt, blue hoodie, and sneakers. “Nice outfit. Are you going for the billionaire douchebag look today?”
Normally, I’m not one to judge when it comes to dress code. My work wardrobe is a special form of armor selected specifically to deter stares in a workplace populated by dudes eager to gawk at anyone appearing remotely female. The jeans, V-neck shirts in muted colors, and assortment of cardigans I rotate every week are as dull as they are predictable. But if Tate’s in the mood to start a tiff, I’m willing to bite back.
“I guess it makes sense,” I say. “You work in social media.”
Several seconds of silence accompanied by a hard scowl prove I’ve rendered him speechless. I give myself a mental high five and wave at Kelsey from Accounting as she scans the room for a place to sit. It’s mostly full at this point, so I scoot over a chair and let her have the seat closest to Tate.
She slides her voluptuous body close to Tate’s chair, her head locked to the side as she stares at him. Even though she’s midforties, she never misses an opportunity to ogle the younger guys at Nuts & Bolts. A gruff sigh leaves Tate’s mouth, accompanied by an eye roll. Her shoulder-length sandy blond hair bounces as she slides out of her trance and back to the present. She flashes one more smirk at him, but he’s not even paying attention anymore.
Lynn, the Nuts & Bolts special projects manager, stands at the front of the room. “Good morning, everyone!” she says with an impossibly wide smile.
Her cheery and wholesome demeanor is out of place in this establishment, and that’s why I love her. Half of our workforce prefers to keep to themselves while the other half curses loudly with every other word. Lynn is short, adorably curvy with a bob haircut, and always wears dangly earrings. Today they’re gold feathers. She possesses a type of fun-mom energy that sets everyone at ease.
“Apologies for the impromptu meeting, but I have a bit of exciting news to share.” She clasps her hands in front of her. “Nuts & Bolts has taken on a charity project. We’re partnering with the Midwest Family Homes Foundation to build a house for a family in need.”
A wide smile splits Lynn’s face while she claps excitedly. It takes a few seconds, but the rest of us eventually join in on the applause. I can’t help but grin too. This sounds like a worthy cause.
Lynn explains that Nuts & Bolts will be building a single-family detached home at the north end of the city.
“Employees aren’t required to participate in this homebuilding project, but we very much hope you’ll want to. No outside time will be required for you to take part. Those who choose to volunteer will be doing so Monday through Friday in shifts that fall within the eight-to-five workday. During the homebuilding days, you’ll essentially work half a day, then head to the site. Once five o’clock hits, you’re free to go home!”
Heads bob up and down across the room. I spot a few “not bad” faces. It seems this hard-to-please bunch is on board with doing a bit of volunteer work to get out of their normal workday duties.
She explains that a small group of employees with construction experience will direct the project while the rest of us will be assigned smaller-scale tasks.
Furious scribbling fills the space to the left of me. Tate’s ability to make noise in a quiet room is surpassed by none at Nuts & Bolts.
The clipboard Lynn has passed around lands in the hands of one of the guys from Customer Support. He squints at the sign-up sheet. “We start building next week? Isn’t that when that heat wave is supposed to hit?”
A sliver of worry flashes in Lynn’s eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”
A wave of soft groans echoes through the room. A few people mutter about crossing their names off the list.
Lynn’s formerly cheery face morphs into a frown. “I’d expect more from a group of professionals.”
Awkward silence cuts the room, save for my stifled laugh of disbelief. I’ve never seen Lynn turn from joyful to disappointed so quickly, and it’s strangely amusing. I didn’t think she had it in her to be so curt. Both Kelsey and Tate turn to look at me with incredulous expressions. Laughing during awkward moments is a bad habit that’s taken years for me to harness.
Lynn purses her lips. “Everyone in this room possesses skills that could improve the life of a family in need, and you’re worried about feeling hot for a few hours a day? I’m disappointed in you folks.”
When she tuts, heads droop in shame. A few muttered sorries follow.
She crosses her arms while scanning the room. Her stance reminds me of a mother scolding her misbehaving teen in an after-school special.
“I’m certainly not going to force any of you to volunteer, but let’s try to keep in mind that the heat wave will be temporary. I’ll be there sweating it out with all of you every day, and so will the rest of management. A few days of discomfort will result in a better life for a deserving family.” Lynn’s arms fall back to her sides. “Also, food and drink will be provided at the worksite for all volunteers.”
Half the room lights up. Nothing like free food to draw people to a noble cause.
Lynn ends the meeting with some words of encouragement. “Be sure to check your email inboxes tomorrow; there’s more info on our first day of volunteering to come! And please feel free to come to me with any ideas you folks have. We want to make this project the best it can be!” She points a finger in the air. “Oh, and don’t forget, Kelsey is leaving us in a couple of weeks! She’s moving to Florida for her husband’s new job.”
Lynn makes an exaggerated sad face, using her fists to wring fake tears. Kelsey laughs and claps.
“We’re having a going-away happy hour for her at Jimi D’s next Friday,” Lynn says. “Drinks are on Nuts & Bolts till seven. Everyone’s invited!”
The room empties, but Tate remains seated. “I have an idea I’d like to run by you, Lynn.”
I stand up to leave but halt at the sound of my name.
“It involves Emmie and me, actually.”
I peer down at him. “What?”
He gestures to my chair, beckoning me to sit down. Like I’m a toy poodle he’s training.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Lynn shuts the door and joins us. I let out a sharp exhale and sit.
Tate clears his throat. “What if Emmie and I spearhead a marketing and social media campaign centered on promoting the charity homebuilding project?”
“Um, what?” I’m unable to hide my shock. Tate wants to work with me on a special project? What in the ever-loving hell?
Lynn claps her hands in merriment before Tate dives into a laundry list of ideas. There’s mention of posting in-progress photos of the house to Nuts & Bolts’ social media pages, sending press releases to local media, and a community service hashtag.
“It could take Nuts & Bolts’ online presence to the next level while promoting the company within the community. All for a good cause,” he says.
He reiterates that he will be in charge of social media, while I will be in charge of writing media releases and pitches. I dry swallow another “um, what?” All that registers in my brain is extra work on top of my day-to-day copywriting duties.
Lynn beams at us, her smile bright enough to power an entire city during a blackout. “Well, I’m certainly impressed at the initiative the two of you are showing. Seeing you come together like this for a good cause is so inspiring. I can’t wait to hear what other ideas you’ll come up with after you’ve had time to meet about this project, to really strategize one-on-one.”
Lynn continues in full-on excitement mode, suggesting that Tate and I meet weekly and update her periodically to ensure this special project is a success. My throat dries up. Work with Tate one-on-one? Meet with him every week? Hell, no. It’s already impossible for us to exist in separate offices across the hall from each other. I have to get out of this.
I whip my head to Tate. “As great as this idea is, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to contribute. It’s your idea, after all, and you just sprung it on me three minutes ago.”
Tate frowns.
“Oh, Emmie. Don’t sell yourself short!” Lynn says. “Nuts & Bolts’ website content has vastly improved over the past couple of years because of you. I know you’ll be able to apply those stellar skills to the charity homebuilding project.” She gestures to Tate, calling him a social media rock star. He raises an eyebrow when she looks back at me. “This project will be dynamite. I’m sure of it!”
She gazes at us tenderly, beaming with immeasurable hope and excitement. I stutter through a few more “ums,” fighting the urge to scream.
After giving us an encouraging squeeze on the shoulders, she claps her hands in delight. “Wonderful! Just wonderful, you two! This idea is so very touching. You know, if you produce some outstanding results with this project, I think I could get you both a week of paid time off each. Maybe even two!”
When I’m back at my office, I plop down in my chair, stunned. I now have to squeeze in bicker sessions with Tate in addition to my regular work during the week. Great.
“That was a weak showing in there.”
I stop typing to see Tate hovering at my open doorway. “What?”
“Look, I know you don’t want to do this extra project, but it’s for a good cause,” he says. “Quit whining and suck it up.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe you should have consulted with me before announcing your grand plan to Lynn.”
He shakes his head at me. “Like you would have said yes.”
My silence is a reluctant agreement. I would have absolutely shot it down.
“How will we even get this project off the ground? We have a hard enough time sitting across the hall from each other.”
“Ah yes, here we go with the theatrics. Give it a rest, Emmie.”
“Do you know how long it takes to build a house from the ground up? About a year. That means we’ll have to work together—one-on-one—for the next twelve months.”
He stares at me with a neutral expression, as if he’s suddenly forgotten our volatile work history.
“This has disaster written all over it.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
He pushes off my doorframe and runs a hand roughly through his blond waves before looking at me. I glare at him. He glares back. We are beyond ridiculous.
“Fine,” I huff. “Let me know how you feel after we’ve both gone hoarse from yelling at each other.”
He rolls his eyes. “Would you prefer if we collaborated over the phone? Or we could do all of our meetings via Gchat, not a single word muttered out loud the whole time. We’d still be four feet from each other, but we wouldn’t technically be inhabiting the same space. Would that meet your standards of conduct in the workplace, Ms. Echavarre?”
“Don’t even go there. Maybe I wouldn’t be so hesitant to work with you if you showcased a smidgen of professionalism, instead of sarcastic comments and snide remarks.”
I catch him clenching his jaw before I look away and grab the first object that comes into view. Distracting myself by thumbing through a multi-tool catalog doesn’t work. I’m too wound up to come up with anything coherent to write at the moment.
“Quit being so dramatic,” he says. “Who knows? You may actually enjoy working with me. Stranger things have happened.”
The most obnoxiously smug expression clouds his face. He knows the thought of having to work with him directly is making me crawl out of my skin, and he loves it.
“Fat chance,” I say.
“Give it time. I’m quite charming.”
“You’re not. Believe me. I know charming, and you absolutely are not it.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really? And what’s charming, Emmie?”
“The exact opposite of you.”
He crosses his arms, still facing me. I’ve still got my nose in the catalog, trying to demonstrate it’s more interesting than him.
“Is that so?”
I drop the catalog on my lap, tilting my face up to him. I may be sitting, but we’re in a standoff for sure. Our stiff posture and scowls make us look like two cowboys aching to draw our guns and blast each other away.
“It doesn’t even matter. When we’re together, it’s always a complete disaster.”
His face drops. I can’t put my finger on his expression, but it is no longer smug.
“I see,” he says quietly before clearing his throat. Stepping away from my doorway, he walks the few paces to his office.
I flip back around to my computer. We don’t say a word to each other the rest of the day. An email pops up on my screen. Tate sent me a meeting request to talk about Nuts & Bolts’ charity work promotion project tomorrow afternoon. My first instinct is to decline, but it will just postpone the inevitable. We have to work together whether I like it or not. I reluctantly click “Accept.”