Page 17

JOSH

It’s an absolute blessing that there’s only one day left in the office before everybody heads off to celebrate the holidays. And once the holidays are over, so is the internship, which means either Gabriel or I will get the job, and that will be that.

I get to the office in the nick of time, bordering on being late because the idea of coming face-to-face with Gabriel has suddenly become a daunting prospect. Not because I’m afraid of him. It’s more that I’m afraid of my reaction to him, I guess. I don’t know if I can behave like I normally would. And what if I forget and say something completely insane that felt real in the dream but isn’t in reality?

Gabriel’s already sitting behind his desk, furiously typing on his laptop when I walk in. He looks up from the screen, gaze raking over me. I’ve already got my mouth open to counter whatever crack he’s about to make about me not being fifteen minutes early and what it says about my character.

“Good morning,” he says.

The neutral tone stops me in my tracks. The fact that there’s no follow-up makes me feel off-balance. He should be condescending or sarcastic about me almost not making it on time. He should be annoying and irritating and smug and disapproving.

“Morning,” I reply, then quickly scurry off to my desk, where I studiously avoid looking at him or around him or just generally acknowledging his presence in any way.

I open my laptop, and then I pretend to work. Straight-up pretend I’m typing. I open a blank document and pretend to type. I pretend to read. And I count down the minutes until I finally get to escape this place and go home. Then I’ll have until January to get my head back on straight.

I run into Sadie in the kitchen nook when I go to grab my sixth cup of coffee. I’m tired from not sleeping, and the coffee is a decent excuse to put some distance between me and Gabriel.

“Oh, hey,” Saide says. “I didn’t see you come in this morning.”

“I was running late. Came in at the last moment.”

“You rebel, you,” she says, and I laugh. “Last day?”

I nod.

“Any news about the job?” she asks. Hopefully. At least somebody wants me to score this job.

It’d be nice if that somebody was me. If the prospect of being here for the long term could create any excitement at all. It’d be nice if, at the very least, I could lie to myself and say it does.

What the hell am I even doing with my life?

“Nothing yet. I think they said they’ll be making the decision in January.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you,” Sadie says.

I can’t even manage a smile. That thing on my lips is barely a grimace.

“Thanks. Any holiday plans?” I ask to move the topic away from me.

“Visiting the family. The usual. You?”

“It’s gonna be a quiet one this time around,” I say, like I usually have somewhere to go or magnificent plans. It’s always a quiet one. That’s just standard when it comes to me.

Sadie keeps eyeing me, almost uncomfortably perceptive.

“Want to come be my date at my parents’ place?” she asks, then flushes bright red immediately after. “I mean, not a date. Just, like, a figure of speech. I mean, I don’t like you. You know, like you like you. I don’t do that.”

I think she’d keep rambling, but Gabriel chooses that moment to walk in, so she clamps her mouth shut, still looking miserable.

“I have to go,” she squeaks, then hurries out of the room.

I grab my cup and I’m about to head out after her when Gabriel steps into my path. I come to a stop so suddenly that coffee splashes over the rim of my cup. I hiss through my teeth when the scalding hot liquid lands on my skin, then glare at Gabriel.

“Thanks.” I don’t even bother with a napkin. I just wipe the back of my arm on my slacks.

“Let me see,” Gabriel says, lifting my hand and studying the skin. “Come on.” He takes my cup and tugs me forward.

My heart goes haywire at the feel of my hand in his.

“I’m fine.” I try to pull free, but Gabriel stops in front of the sink, opens the tap, and puts my hand under cold water. “That’s really unnecessary,” I mutter.

I’m aware. I’m suddenly so overwhelmingly aware of him, down to the smallest of movements. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, steady and warm. Every breath. My pulse pounds in my ears, and if he moved his hand just a bit, he’d probably feel it going haywire. He smells like pine. Something sharp and fresh. I inhale deeply before I can stop myself.

He turns his head, and his eyes land on me. His brow furrows.

“,” he says slowly, almost hesitantly.

I pull my hand away. He blinks.

“Better get back to work,” I say. “Last day, you know, so we should make sure to tie up all loose ends.”

I hightail it out of there and go hide in the bathroom for a while.

The rest of the day crawls by excruciatingly slowly. I check my watch so often that at one point I’m convinced it’s stopped working because the numbers just aren’t moving.

The only reprieve I get is when a courier fails to show up, and I happen to overhear, so I volunteer to deliver the documents myself, which means I get two hours away from the office. And by the office, I mean Gabriel.

He keeps staring at me whenever he thinks I’m not looking, and I’m not sure what that’s about, but his frown is so deep it sped past thoughtful about two hours ago and has now moved firmly into scowl territory.

Usually, I’d have something to say about it. Something snide or sarcastic or biting or… My point is, there are a lot of possibilities, and usually choosing one wouldn’t be a problem.

But I’ve got nothing right now. Just raw nerves and a hollow feeling of having lost something. There’s a kind of bitter emptiness that makes my chest ache, and it has no logical reason to be there. So I had a very realistic dream while I was passed out. It doesn’t mean I should let it mess with my head this much. It wasn’t real.

At home, I crawl into bed and concentrate way too hard on falling asleep. I need a nap before the office Christmas party tonight.

So, naturally, all I manage to accomplish is to stare at the ceiling really hard. It could use a new coat of paint. I put it on the list of things I plan to do someday but realistically will never get around to.

By the time I drag myself out of the shower, I’m tired but also keyed up, so that’s obviously a great combination. I grab a deep blue button-down and a pair of slacks, and by the time I rush out my front door, I’m already late again.

I flag down a cab and when I jump inside, slam the door shut, and turn toward the driver, I blink in surprise.

“Lou?”

He sends a look my way in the rearview mirror and pushes the toothpick he has in the left corner of his mouth to the right side.

“Know you, dude?”

For an insane moment, I actually consider the possibility that I just don’t exist anymore. It doesn’t matter that it’s supremely arrogant of me. That Lou here probably drives numerous people around every day, but of course he has to remember me. The center of the world, me!

“Oh, yeah,” Lou says then. “The huge suitcase guy. I remember you.”

I let out an actual breath of relief.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah. Thank you!”

I’ll tip him extra, honest to God. I’m just relieved right now.

“Where to this time?”

“Same place as yesterday.” I give him the address, and he pulls into traffic.

After that acknowledgment, neither of us is that chatty, so the next twenty minutes go by in silence. I watch the city pass outside the window. It’s still raining heavily, a far cry from the winter wonderland Vermont had been.

I roll my eyes at myself.

You made that up, remember?

I dig out my wallet when Lou stops in front of the imposing skyscraper that houses Rasmussen & Cromwell.

“Keep the change,” I say before I climb out of the car. My shoulders slump as I watch the cab leave, and then I head inside. Most of the building is quiet already, but when I step out of the elevator, I can hear music from somewhere close by.

At the party, people are milling around, drinks in hand, standing in groups, chatting. Waiters are hovering with trays of food and champagne. This is a fancy party, after all. Rasmussen & Cromwell has money, so they can afford to splurge. They also gave everybody a Christmas bonus—even me and Gabriel, and we’re just two lowly interns.

I’ve never been to an office party before, but Gabriel made it sound like a miserable experience. Instead, people seem quite happy to be here, and the decorations look really good. I hope nobody touches the lights, because there’s a chance they’ll be electrocuted, but other than that it’s nice. It almost starts to feel like the holidays.

I lean back against the wall and take it all in. The holiday vibes, the atmosphere, and the happiness.

I almost jump out of my skin when Gabriel suddenly appears next to me.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I ask.

“You didn’t immediately feel it when I walked into the room? I’m hurt.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Do you think I have some sort of annoyance radar installed that sounds the alarm in my brain whenever you’re nearby?”

“I’ve been under that impression, yes.”

“Guess it’s malfunctioning tonight.”

The words are acerbic, but there’s no real heat in them. No real feeling. I’m losing my touch, and I don’t even care.

“It’s a good party,” Gabriel says after a few moments of silence, during which we both studiously keep our eyes on the crowd and away from each other.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t place any bets then, because I would’ve guessed you’d hate this.”

“I’m not anti-holidays, you know.”

There’s some more silent observing after that. Observing, while trying desperately not to be so aware of Gabriel.

“Any plans for Christmas?” I ask.

He takes his sweet-ass time with the answer. “Visiting the family,” he eventually says, then glances at me. “You?”

Alone again, naturally.

Huh. Somebody’s written a song about me. Nice.

I’m tempted to ask questions and have him tell me about his plans. Is his family actually in Vermont or did I make that up too? Then again, hearing about a big happy family and all their traditions is really not something I want to do right now.

“I’ll be staying in the city,” I say, as off-handedly as I can manage. “Traveling during the holidays sounds like a nightmare.”

“What are?—”

Whatever he’s planning to ask gets lost when a waiter stops in front of us and holds out a platter of hors d’oeuvres.

Gabriel is still busy frowning at me and reaches out to take one. I grab his hand and stop him, and then swiftly get mesmerized by the feel of his skin against mine.

“I wouldn’t,” I say distractedly, still a bit dazed from all this touching I’m currently doing. “There are cherries under the goat cheese layer.”

He glances toward the tray, and I regain my senses and let his hand go. He pulls his hand back.

“The smoked trout ones were good,” I say after a few moments of awkward silence.

He doesn’t reply, and when I turn my head to send him a questioning look, he just keeps staring for some reason.

I raise my brows at him.

He licks his lips, frown deepening.

“Did you?—”

And we’re stopped again. This time by the boss himself.

Anthony Rasmussen comes and stands in front of Gabriel and me. He’s in his sixties, but looks about a decade younger, courtesy of some weird, strict health regimen he follows religiously. I got a full overview last year when we were seated opposite each other at a dinner party my grandparents were throwing.

“Gentlemen,” he booms in that commanding courtroom voice of his he uses every chance he gets.

“Happy holidays, sir,” Gabriel says while I mumble something I hope sounds like the same thing.

“Enjoying the evening?” Rasmussen continues.

“It’s a great party.” Gabriel again.

“Yes. Great,” I echo him belatedly.

Usually, it would irritate me, because people are my thing and Gabriel is coming off way better than I am right now, but somewhere along the way I seem to have lost my ability to be petty and find tiny things like this annoying.

What the hell is happening to me? And who even am I if I’m not the guy who does things just to be better than Gabriel?

And also to appease my grandparents. And make sure they won’t think I’m a disappointment. And then, you know, maybe they’ll change their whole world view and deeply rooted beliefs and opinions and find it in their hearts to love me. Or at least like me.

I blink as those words fully form in my brain and their meaning settles.

This is what I’ve built my life around.

Holy shit, I’m actually pathetic.

This is… this is so goddamn sad.

What an absolutely miserable way to live my life.

Those realizations explode inside my head like fireworks, and once the noise has quieted down, I feel completely empty.

What the fuck am I doing with my life?

“?”

I snap my head around to look at Gabriel. He pointedly looks at Rasmussen.

“I was just saying how grateful we are for the internship opportunity,” he says.

It takes me a moment to catch up to what he’s saying, and even then I don’t manage to come up with anything smart to say.

“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “It’s been cool.”

Rasmussen raises his brows slightly at that fumbling reply.

“Your grandmother tells me you’ve settled on criminal law.”

I… I’d argue, but there’s every chance there have been times I’ve nodded or hummed in the middle of a conversation while zoning out, and that could have been construed as me expressing interest.

I don’t know what to say or how to untangle myself from this mess I call my life.

So eventually, I just nod.

“Yes, sir.”

He gives an approving nod. “Rasmussen & Cromwell has an excellent reputation, as you already know.”

I can feel Gabriel tense beside me, and my shoulders slump as even more resignation is heaped upon them.

“Yes, sir,” I say again.

“I’ll be attending the Christmas dinner your grandmother puts on. We’ll find a moment to discuss things then.”

He claps me on the shoulder, nods at Gabriel, and walks away. I look at his back as he disappears into the crowd.

Even if I was truly interested in pursuing a career in criminal law, even if I really, truly wanted this job that’s dangling over the finish line of this internship… I could never be sure I’d fully earned it. No, scratch that. I’m already pretty fucking sure that whatever he’s going to offer me, I will not have earned any of it.

I glance at Gabriel. He’s staring at the crowd with a grim expression.

This is not what I want.

None of it is.

I don’t know what makes him do it, but Gabriel turns his head sharply toward me. I expect to see disgust on his face at this absurd display of nepotism, but it’s worse.

It’s resignation.

“Congrats,” he says.

He doesn’t even sound angry.

I shake my head.

His eyes take me in, and my jaw clenches.

“.” He takes a step closer, like he’s trying to not be overheard.

“Will you excuse me?” I say. “There’s something I really need to do.”

I don’t wait for his answer, just turn on my heel and march after Rasmussen.

It takes me a little while to find him, but eventually I manage to track him down. Rasmussen sends me a surprised look when he sees me marching toward him.

“ua?” he says when I come to a stop. “Was the?—”

“I don’t want the job,” I blurt. “I don’t know if you were planning to give it to me or not, but if you were, you really fucked up with that decision because I’m not the guy for this thing. At all. I’m completely unsuitable. Frankly, you’d be stupid to pick me over Gabriel because Gabriel is dedicated and determined and really fucking smart. Don’t tell him I said that. Not the dedicated, determined part, although he really doesn’t need his ego stroked, so maybe that too, but don’t tell him about this conversation. My point is, I’m not lawyer material. I thought I was. Or maybe I didn’t even think I was, and I just wanted to be, but I’m not. In fact, if I’m really committing to this honesty thing, I’m bored. This job bores the fuck out of me, and the thought that I’ll have to do it for the rest of my days is depressing, not exciting, and I’m just… In conclusion, do not choose me. Really.”

I let out a huge breath. Everything seems to get very quiet. Rasmussen’s eyebrows have risen to his hairline. I think I’ve managed to surprise him.

He finally gathers himself and smooths his palm over his tie.

“Well,” he says. “That was certainly enlightening.”

“I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

He waves me off. “You’re young. Figuring your life out is what you’re supposed to do.”

I’m stumped for a moment by how easy this all feels. And also by how it suddenly feels like I’ve been relieved of a huge burden. I’m not sure how it’s even possible, because a week ago I would’ve told you there was no burden at all. That everything was going well. That it was all going according to plan.

Rasmussen studies me silently for a moment. “I’m not sure I should mention this, but we weren’t going to offer you the position. Not that you aren’t up to the job, but after a lengthy discussion, we concluded Mr. García is a better fit for the job right now.”

I blow out a breath of relief.

“Good,” I say. “That’s the right decision.”

His lips curve into a small smile. “I gathered you felt that way, yes.”

I nod, and now that I’ve said everything and the adrenaline rush of upending my life and giving the middle finger to the future I’ve been keeping in my line of sight for the past ten plus years is starting to subside, standing here feels incredibly awkward.

“Thank you for everything,” I say when some ingrained manners rise to the surface.

“Good luck,” he says, which sounds a tad ominous, but this might also just be my brain catching up to the fact that I don’t have any plans for what happens next, and my grandparents will almost certainly disown me after this, and then I’ll be even more alone.

I turn around.

My ears are still ringing a bit when I make my way through the party. Roger, one of the paralegals, has dressed up as Santa and is dragging a bag of gifts behind him while people are cheering.

I dart past him and make my way outside.

I don’t think anybody notices.

Once I’m outside, I draw in a big breath.

I glance to my left and right, and while I do that, something cold and wet lands on my cheek.

I look up. Soft white flakes are floating toward the ground. Just a few at first, then more and more. I hold my hand out and some of the snowflakes land on my palm.

I laugh out loud, stuff my hands into my pockets, and start to walk.