Page 18 of Palm South University: Season 3
I AM EXHAUSTED.
It’s only Tuesday but I feel like I’ve worked an entire week. Between classes, the sorority, and my internship, I have exactly twenty minutes of downtime each day, and I usually use it peeing.
And it’s only been a week since my internship started.
I guess most people would be complaining, wishing they had more time to sleep or party, but honestly? I’m thriving. It reminds me of when I had pole dancing taking up my time, giving me purpose — a goal to work toward. I’m working alongside three other interns this semester, and I’m determined to be the best. Blame it on always being in competition with my sisters growing up or maybe just on the fact that I have something to prove this semester, but I’m all in.
Which is part of the reason I’m the last to leave the office.
We had a meeting first thing this morning to discuss the event all the interns would be working on, a product launch for a local, high-end skincare line. The only information we’d really been given was the date of the event and a packet with information on the new line they’re launching, so I spent the rest of the day researching the company, founders, mission statement, and current marketing struggles. It might have been a little excessive since we’d only be involved in the launch event, but in my opinion, they bookedOkay, Coolbecause they want the best, and I’m determined to give it to them.
To meet their needs, I need to understand them.
And then, I can find a way to exceed them.
Balancing my binder now stuffed full with the research I’ve done all day, I dig through my purse for my phone to call Cassie. We’re supposed to meet at Ralph’s to talk about Erin’s surprise party at seven and I’m already ten minutes late. But when I finally fish it out, I lose the grip on my binder, and it tumbles to the floor, hitting the toe of my high heel in the process before spewing paper all around me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I yell, eyes rolling up to the ceiling before I let out an exasperated sigh and kneel down to start retrieving the pages. I hadn’t taken the time to hole punch them and actually put theminsidethe three-pronged binder, and now I’m paying the price for it.
My phone lights up with a text from Cassie and I angrily thumb out a response before tossing my phone back in my purse, gathering the paper and trying to keep at least some of the organization I’d worked all day on. I’m so grumbly I don’t even register the cherry-brown Ermenegildo Zegna shoes until I’m trying to swipe up a page trapped underneath them.
I pause, fingers still on the paper as my eyes trail up the beige suit pants, skipping the open jacket altogether to land on Mr. Church’s face. His hands are resting easily in his pockets, Carolina blue dress shirt exposed and navy tie loosened around his neck as he smirks down at me.
Me.
The intern.
Who is currently on her hands and knees in a pencil skirt.
“I didn’t realize we were keeping the interns so late,” he booms, bending to my level as he helps gather the last of the pages.
I just gape at him for a moment before clearing my throat and shoving the papers in my binder, not taking the time to keep them in order anymore. My fingers brush his when he hands me the stack he’s gathered and I keep my eyes on the binder, cheeks flush with heat.
“Bare•ly?”he asks, nodding to my binder as he stands. “Didn’t you just get assigned to their event this morning?”
I nod, attempting to stand without flashing him my underwear or breaking my neck. He reaches down for me, one hand grabbing the binder from my grasp as the other stabilizes my elbow.
“Yeah, I just wanted to get a head start on the event. I don’t know much about them yet.”
“Looks like you will soon,” he says, handing the binder back to me when I’m fully standing. “You know, most interns just wait to be told what to do when we assign them their event clients.” He checks his watch before lifting a brow back at me. “And most of them leave well before five.”
“Guess I’m not like most interns,” I offer with a shy smile and a shrug.
“I’m starting to realize that.”
He takes a moment to really look at me then, and the heat I feel from his gaze is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s not a look just reserved for me, either. I’ve seen him give it to plenty of other people just in my first week. It’s not him coming onto me or checking me out, it’s just how he is naturally — intense, ablaze, striking.
“Mr. Church, I’m really sorry about that first day in the elevator. I… well, clearly I was nervous, and I didn’t know who you were, and—”
“That was the best part,” he says, hand finding the small of my back as he leads us to the elevators. “You didn’t know who I was, so I got to see you unfiltered. It’s rare for me to see anyone that way. I liked it.”
“You liked watching me make a fool of myself?”
He chuckles as the doors slide open and we both step inside.
“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. You made an impression. There’s a difference.”
I nod, biting my lips between my teeth for the rest of the ride down. When the doors open again, we both walk in silence until we’re out of the lobby and standing in the warm evening air.