Page 18 of Try Me

At least this internship was an upward step. I’d busted my ass all year to get it, too.

A horn blared as I whizzed through the tail end of a yellow light and pulled onto Market Street. Slowing, I nosed around pedestrians and used up my last reserves of patience waiting on a dude hauling a suitcase down the sidewalk behind him, ever so casual like he was dragging a parasol behind him on a leisurely Sunday walk.

Finally, I snagged a space in the garage, leapt from the car, then jogged back to lock it.

With two minutes to spare, I raced into the building, eyed the post-lunch queue waiting at the elevator banks, and broke for the stairs instead. My lungs shrieked in protest as I climbed, and sweat bloomed over my forehead and the back of my neck, but I made it to the tenth floor in record time.

I swiped a hand over my hair to smooth it back, straightened my tie, then yanked the handle of the fire door.

It didn’t budge, which was around the time I noticed the keycard access panel.

“Fuck!”I banged my forehead against the door, inhaled deeply in case there was any free-floating zen in the air, and stepped back. Then I banged on it. It was a long shot, but I figured I could spare thirty seconds to try it before running my ass back down the stairs to the elevators.

I’d just turned away when the door flew open in a blast of blessedly frigid air. A guy in a bow tie and glasses who was probably a couple of years older than me did that rapid-blinking thing as he looked me up and down to make sure I knew how much I was putting him out.

“Intern?”

“How’d you know?” I deadpanned.

“Potent mixture of sweat and desperation gives it away every time.” He flashed me a big sarcastic smile and gestured me inside.

“I’m—” I started.

“Cute and probably an idiot. You’ll fit right in. Now go on up to the conference room B on the fourteenth floor for orientation—they moved it. Try the elevators this time. They work great.” He let out another annoyed huff and pointed to indicate the right direction.

I took off down the hallway.

I was three minutes late. Not terrible, but a glimpse through the blinds showed everyone already sitting in the conference room and a woman in a pantsuit standing up front.

She fell silent for a beat as I entered, making her point clear by blinking at me a few times—clearly a thing at this firm—then continued her introduction. When the door squeaked open again a few minutes later, she paused once more, then sighed, waving the person in as I glanced over. At Mark fucking Farrow.

He slid into a seat without noticing me and drilled his attention straight ahead while my blood pressure shot through the roof. In profile, I glimpsed the curve of an apologetic smile, a sheepish duck of his head that might or might not have been affectation—because what the hell did he have to be sheepish about? He could be late all he wanted and probably no one in this town would do squat if they knew what was good for them. Unbelievable.

I bit the inside of my cheek until pain teased over my jaw and focused on Mary-the-paralegal as she began to detail how the internship would work. I counted fifteen of us, most undoubtedly law students. Those of us still in college were essentially there to do whatever the associates or partners told us to. Fine by me. I’d bring them all the coffee they wanted so long as the Preston, Beasley, and Waring name was on my resume.

Once Mary finished her spiel, she pointed at Mark. “Mark Farrow, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mark had an annoyingly smooth baritone with only a hint of a drawl. Also irritating was how the sound of it prompted a surge of heat in my balls.

She met his wary look with a sharp smile. “Come on down here to the front row, please.”

I bit back a grin of total schadenfreude as he collected his things and stood. When he registered me the next row over, there was a satisfying stumble to his step before he caught himself, neutralized his features, and continued toward the front.Later, Farrow. That didn’t stop me from watching his progress, though, or the ridiculous intrusive thoughts that accompanied. I wondered if he kissed the way he walked. If that swagger reached those full fucking lips, and how easily they’d give beneath mine. I wondered what he tasted like.

Mary’s gaze cut sharply to me. “You too, Mr. Pynchon.”

I blew out a breath and strode to the front. Mark scowled at me as I settled next to him and flashed him a vicious smile, though what I’d really wanted to do was scowl right back at him.

After Mary finished the main orientation, she dismissed all but the four of us in the front row, then leaned against the lectern and looked us over. “Preston, Beasley, and Waring has a long history of discovering the most promising future lawyers. As I’m sure a lot of you are aware, many of our partners come from the U. Or—” She glanced at the guy and girl sitting on the other side of Mark “—from Banner College. We have a track record of cultivating solid relationships with the brightest minds early on. Thus, here you are.” She waited, seemingly to let that settle in before continuing. “Your job is simple: help wherever you’re wanted. Do whatever you’re asked. Our firm is busy. We don’t have time for people who need to be coddled. You will feel like an errand boy or girl. Let me assure you, you are. Each of you will answer to one of the associates and their paralegals, possibly a senior intern. In addition, you’ll be given a research project to work on together in teams of two. And there will be a mock trial at the end of the summer. A little friendly competition, if you will. Among the four of you, the intern from each team who shows the most promise will receive a personal letter of recommendation from Mr. Beasley himself for your law school applications, as well as a guaranteed spot here again next summer if you’d like it.” She smirked as she fixed her attention on me and Mark. “Since the two of you are so evidently overachievers, why don’t you work together. Perhaps you’ll inspire each other to be on time in the future.” She aimed her attention at the guy and the girl next. “Houston and Liza, you’ll work together. More details will follow. In the meantime, you’ll find your desks on the tenth floor, along with a packet detailing your general duties and associate assignment. They will come get you in a half hour and introduce you to the rest of the team. At five, there will be a cocktail hour and welcome from the partners.”

Once she dismissed us, I beelined for the elevators. Liza, Houston, and Mark could slow walk and play get to know you all they wanted. I’d come here expressly for that fucking letter, which I hoped would override my personal family history come application time.

“Chet!”

I set my jaw and kept moving.

“Pynch!”

Reluctantly, I slowed a half step as Mark jogged into view and fell into step alongside me. “I tried to get her to let me switch teams, but she won’t.”