Page 5

Mali is glad Zach doesn’t work in the office, because she felt so badass walking away from him. She rode that high all the way to the empty office she has been sitting in for the last three hours and forty-seven minutes.

Well, in that time, she also walked to the shop, got some flowers and a cookie, and strolled around the perimeter of the training centre in case she bumped into someone who wouldn’t tell her that her hair was unprofessional. And then she got locked out until Lisa, the cleaner, turned up and let her in. Lisa didn’t seem to care that Mali had no badge and no way to prove she worked there other than a vague email. Now, despite the fact the welcome email remains the same, Mali has checked it five times. Monday at nine a.m. This Monday, now well past nine a.m., and yet, the office is still freezing and empty.

And on top of all that, the tea is shit. So shit. It tastes like dishwater, and it’s nothing to do with how long it was brewed for, because there’s small bits of film on the surface. But Mali is polite, and it’s her first day, so she sips it anyway.

“Thanks,” she says, as she places the mug on her coaster. Lisa smiles at her, throws her a thumbs-up, then scoots her mop trolley to another room. It’s barely lunchtime, and Mali has already made her desk her own (she picked an empty one, but she’ll move if she has to) with fluffy pink pens, two potted plants, and the bunch of flowers. She cleaned the dust from her keyboard and desk, and then waited. She’s checked the noticeboards that are in place around the office. The ad for the job she applied for is still there, so it’s not like she made the whole thing up.

The office is a big, open-plan space. There are a couple desks, one private office, and a few doors leading to places she can’t get into. From the outside, it looks like a warehouse, which would be trendy if it weren’t covered in decades of rust. Thankfully, the interior has had some kind of renovation. The walls are solid, hopefully full of insulation and with a heating system. There’s a large kitchen and dining area in the corner. It looks well-used. She can imagine eating with friends here, the laughter and sounds of the office penetrating every corner of the space. However, right now, it’s all in her imagination.

So the organisation here isn’t great. It’s her first day, and she has no access to the internet. No one is here to greet her, there’s no welcome pack, no training discussions, and there’s been only two interactions, one of which did not go well. Mali has managed to do more PR for the team on her social media channels over the weekend than she has here. She’s good at her job. She’d be so good for this team if they were around long enough to pull the stick out of their arse.

The nerves gnaw at her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken this job. Perhaps it would’ve been better to go with an organisation who’d been in business longer than three days. If she’s really been stood up on day one, her being paid on time, or at all, seems highly unlikely. She wonders if the offer for the local football team is still on the table. Mali doesn’t support them in the same way she does the Titans, but she could make it work if she had to.

It’s not like she can be jobless for very long. Mali only just bought her house, and she doesn’t want to lose it before she gets her first Christmas tree. Her parents would help her out, of course, but that would hinder their retirement plans, and, oh God, she’s going to have to go back to retail. That’s the issue with living in a small town. There are about ten professional jobs, and she’d thought she’d managed to snag one. If she wants another PR opportunity, she’ll have to move to a bigger city, or— gross —commute.

Mali’s thankful she put her spare room up for rent last night. Her dad has wanted her to rent it out since she bought her house. She knew she should have got a one-bed, but the idea of having a guest room had been floating in her mind for the longest time. (Sage-green bedsheets and white linen curtains and a cute chocolate on the pillow—hard yes!) At least if she gets a roommate, her parents won’t freak out. She could probably go a couple months before she even told her folks this job ended before it started. God, if they find out about this awful first day, they’re going to try and get her into medical school. How is Mali supposed to be a big deal around here by the afternoon if there is literally no one here?

Thankfully, the door flies open. She spins, ready to introduce herself, but his face is back in her eyeline. Why is Zach back here? Mali prepares herself for the onslaught of smugness, the sweetheart, the laughing at her desk, but he walks straight past her. She can’t decide if it’s better or worse that he’s forgotten her already.

“Uhm, Zachariah,” she says, pulling her lip between her teeth. He stops, but he doesn’t turn to face her. His locs are up now. She swears they were hanging by his face earlier. There’s a twisting in her stomach at the sight of the back of his neck. She takes a deep breath, trying to get over the fact he’s going to ignore her again when she’s turned on by the sheer width of his traps.

Then he replies, “Zach.”

“Right. Zach.”

He turns, his eyebrows high. It’s not playful, and she regrets asking him for anything at all. Her gaze slips down his body like it did this morning. He’s not in training gear anymore. He has slightly baggy jeans on, and a sweatshirt, and he looks unfairly good. Like, she has to swallow so she doesn’t audibly sigh good. God, men that dress well should come with a warning sign. When Mali finally looks back at his face, he speaks.

“What’s up, bro?” His face is serious, like he’s not joking about calling her bro. It makes her laugh. Just a small, slipped straight through her lip s laugh. “Wait,” Zach says, looking around the office. “Where is everyone?”

“I was hoping you might know,” she says. She can put her pride to the side for a moment. He can laugh at her, and he still might help her.

“Well, who have you been talking to all day?”

She plays with the ends of her sleeves. “It’s only twelve thirty.”

“No one has been here?” he asks, looking around. Mali thinks he might be concerned. It is ridiculous to start a job with no one here to greet her.

“No.”

He smiles. Predatory. A little sexy. Mostly frustrating. “Man, burnt those bridges right up, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t burn anything,” she replies. “I just called you out.”

“And now you want my help?”

“I didn’t actually ask for your help.”

“You said Zachariah.” A shiver runs through her body at the way he says his own name. Ridiculous. Mali will blame it on the fact she hasn’t found the heating controls yet and it’s March.

“I was going to tell you that you had something on your back,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to hide the shake of her body.

Zach steps closer. “Are you cold?” His eyes roam over her hips, and the heat starts in her chest, but it’s not enough to warm her to her toes. So, yes.

“I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “’Ight.” He turns to leave, and she curses the way she traces the muscles in his shoulder. How can she see them through a jumper? He’s so unreasonable.

“Wait.”

“What’s up, bro?” he repeats, and she laughs again, but manages to keep it more to herself this time.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” she says, then, “bro.” Her nose scrunches with the word. It’s painfully clear Mali has never called someone bro. She carries on before he can call her out on it. “Though I do stand by everything I said.”

Zach raises one eyebrow, and she almost sighs but then remembers herself.

“Is it?” he says.

“Yes. I also have numerous thoughts about your playing techniques and interview skills,” she replies, with a shrug. She flips her hair over her shoulder and wonders if the way he watches it move is because he thinks she’s unprofessional. Prick. “I just wish it wasn’t the first conversation we ever had.”

“I don’t talk to other players, let alone staff,” he says, though she truly thinks his heart isn’t in it. She doesn’t know him well enough to have any idea about him, but there’s something in the set of his jaw and the way it takes him a moment too long to respond—as if the words are forced and not as snappy as he hopes—that makes her think he’s faking it. “So, don’t worry about it.”

She squints at him as he once again turns to walk away from her.

“I’m going to make you do an erectile dysfunction campaign.”

Zach stops his movements, then drops his bag and moves closer. Fuck, he is tall. And he’s gotta be what, nineteen stone? He’s one of the leaner rugby players on the team, and he’s still bigger than anyone she’s ever seen up close. Could she ask him? She might need to know, for sponsorships and other things she could make up.

“You’re the PR girl?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m twenty-six, so not a girl, but sure.” He squints again, and she takes a deep breath of his cologne.

“You can’t make me do that, right?”

Mali smiles, leaning closer, even though the movement means she has to look up at him. “I can make you do anything.” Zach looks nervous, she thinks. Something settles deep between his eyebrows, and she feels bad for making a joke out of something he could be suffering with. It’s not in her nature, so she quickly follows up. “No, Zachariah, I can’t force you to do anything. If there are things you’d like to avoid completely—topics, people, brands, whatever—you can tell me. Or email if you don’t want to tell me directly.”

“Can you stop calling me that?”

“If I do, will you give me someone’s number? My toes are about to fall off, and I don’t know where the heating system is, let alone how to use it.”

Zach picks his bag up and walks away, and she barely has time to call him a wanker under her breath before he’s gone. He pushes open a door that was closed when she tried earlier this morning. Maybe all the hinges are on timers. Her university did that to keep people out of labs and classrooms after hours. Zach must be here for something—training? Perhaps there are other people here. She follows him, running to catch up before he turns down a corridor and she’s left alone again.

She’s about to call for him, despite the fact she thinks he’ll ignore her entirely, but then she hears him talking.

“She’s been sitting out there all morning,” Zach says. Mali hides behind the wall before she seeps into a puddle. How can he possibly be mocking her? It’s one thing to be a dick to her face, but to be a dick behind her back when he doesn’t even know her name is just rude.

“Ridiculous,” Zach carries on. He sounds annoyed. Huh. “It’s completely unreasonable to get someone to start work—I guess to sort out our image—and then not even have the brains to make sure she doesn’t freeze to death before she starts.”

Oh. Oh.

“I don’t think there’s an office manager yet,” Lisa replies.

“So?” Zach replies, his tone friendlier with Lisa than it was with Mali. “Adebayo did the interviews. He was whining about them weeks ago, but he said she was decent. I’m calling him if I can find my fucking phone. I left it here after practice.”

“Oh, Zach, it’s in lost and found.”

“Thanks, Lis,” Zach replies, and Mali thinks it’s just her he’s rude to. Grumpy, if she had to pretend it was cute. Mainly rude, and a little childish, but either way, he is helping her. So, she turns and runs back to her desk so it doesn’t look like she was stalking him, even though she was.

“You know Coach is going to hear about it and make you run laps!” Lisa calls after him.

“Oh, no,” Zach mocks, closer to the hallway than before, and of course, the door is fucking closed and locked again. “What a shocking change of events that would be. Oh.”

Mali spins on the spot. She’s been had. “Oh, hey.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t work here and you’re actually a crazed stalker,” Zach says, with no humour to his tone.

“Er, you came to me twice. I only followed you one time.”

He rolls his eyes as he walks past her, pressing his hand against the button which clearly states Press Here. The door slowly creaks open, and she walks through before him lest he calls her out for stalking.

“I was hoping you were going to see someone else and I could ask for their help.”

“Did you not think I would be capable of helping you?” Zach asks, strolling into the only office that has a door. He riffles through a box on the desk and pulls out a phone, then lets out a breath, his shoulders sinking.

“Well, you didn’t say anything, you just left.”

“I needed my phone,” he says, holding it up as he perches on the edge of the desk. He’s closer to her eye level now, and she tries to look anywhere other than his face. He looks at home here. She wonders if this office belongs to him. If he’s going to end up being her boss. Gross. “I don’t have Adebayo’s number memorised. I’m not rain man.”

Mali frowns at him. “Are you this rude all the time? Or is there a reason today is particularly bad for you?”

Zach looks up at her from where he’s typing something into his phone. “I wasn’t rude.”

She tilts her head. “Are you joking?” He doesn’t respond for a second, and she thinks he might be ignoring her, even as she stands in front of him.

“Sweetheart is a commonly used friendly term of endearment.”

Mali squints at him. “Did you just google that?”

Zach blushes, like maybe he did google that. Fuck. He’s rude and cute? A dangerous combination. He stands up. “Heating is over by the kitchen. That’s my one nice thing for the week.”

Mali spins around as he walks out. “Did you text Adebayo?”

He carries on walking.

“Zach?”

“Bye, bro.”