Page 2 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

M?y phone buzzed; the girls were going crazy on our group text. Sarah and Rachel had been texting nonstop about the idea of a girls' trip. I was pretty sure Rachel was eighty-five percent done planning one by the number of vibrations I was hearing.

The thread had started off with them wishing me luck on my presentation this morning on a major account, then about Rachel's pending promotion to PR director, and Sarah's oldest starting kindergarten.

These days we kept in touch only with texting and the occasional phone call.

It was minimal, but it worked.After college, Rach had moved to Saint Louis, and Sarah had settled down in Virginia.

Our lives and schedules hardly lined up, so a group chat helped us still feel connected.

Isn't that how it goes, though? Best friends who live in different states.

As I walked into my presentation, I thought about the ideas they were throwing around for a girls' trip.

Did I have the time? What about the Calloway account, my big client?

God, we hadn't been together in years, just the three of us.

I closed my eyes and thought about what a trip with just the three of us would be like. Carefree? Relaxing? Refreshing?

A tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality: a cold corporate office and two men sitting around a conference room table waiting for me.

"Are you ready, Elle?" Anna was standing beside me looking into the conference room too. "I didn't know Chris Johnson was on this account with you," she said as her eyebrows arched up in surprise.

I rolled my eyes at the sight of Chris sitting arrogantly in the chair by the head of the table. His raven-colored hair was slicked back, and his long, narrow nose made him look like a weasel.

"That's because he's not." I sighed heavily as I rolled my shoulders back and prepared myself to walk into this presentation I knew like the back of my hand.

Neither man acknowledged my entrance until I took my seat on the other side of Mr. Landry, my boss, who was a short man with a constant scowl.

He wore a pressed navy-blue suit, and his crimson tie was in bright contrast against his starched white shirt.

As usual, his Rolex sparkled on his wrist, and he greeted me with a curt nod.

I readjusted my skirt and crossed my ankles in my chair.

My formfitting Prada skirt suit was just as nice if not better than Chris's slim-fit Armani black suit.

He wasn't wearing a tie, and his jacket was casually unbuttoned.

My hands were clammy, which was never a good sign for me when Chris was around.

When he first started, he tried to ask me out on a date, but Jude and I had just broken up and I was in no mood to date, let alone date anyone from work.

Since then, he's called me "buddy" and likes to pat me on the shoulder as if to say, Good girl.

"Good morning, Mr. Landry." I ignored Chris. "Paul said that he and his boss, Mr. Guidry, are on their way."

Chris rolled his eyes, so I lifted my chin a little higher.

I hadn't met Mr. Guidry yet. He was the president of the Creekside Agency, and Paul, my contact, had told me he only attended the big presentations. No pressure, of course. No pressure at all.

When Mr. Guidry and Paul arrived, I shook everyone's hands firmly and walked to the front of the room for my presentation.

Throughout the hour, I noticed Chris leaning in to speak with Mr. Landry while Mr. Guidry watched me emotionlessly.

I was interrupted a few times for questions directed toward Mr. Landry and Chris.

I didn't exist, yet Chris was front and center.

Where does he get this arrogance? My anxiety started to flutter in my chest, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot.

Mr. Landry looked at me and narrowed his eyes, but I smiled back and listened intently to Chris's explanation.

I felt humiliated and small. Chris's nasal voice flowed through the room and made my skin crawl with disgust.

I tried to answer a question, but Mr. Guidry looked at me down his crooked nose and then back to the others.

The second time I tried to answer a question about my proposal, Mr. Guidry snapped at me with a snarling growl and narrowed eyes.

"Young lady, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I'm not sure an assistant needs to be involved in the conversation.

" His lip was curled, and I noticed Chris smirking.

Mr. Landry glared at me, his expression daring me to speak again.

Anger boiled in my chest. Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck even though the room was frigid and sterile.

This wasn't the first time in my career that men had assumed I was an assistant.

Paul knew I was the one who'd put the entire proposal together, but he made no move to stand up for me.

He sat there fiddling with his fingers, avoiding the plea in my eyes.

"Excuse me, sir." I glared at Mr. Guidry once he finished talking down to me.

"I am not the assistant on this account.

I am the broker. I put this entire thing together and have worked with Paul on it for months.

If you have any other questions, I would be happy to answer them.

" I felt my legs start to shake. The adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I could feel every nerve tingling with anticipation of fight or flight.

Mr. Guidry's eyes widened in shock, completely gobsmacked, and Paul went white.

Mr. Landry and Chris were silently glaring at me.

I could feel the tension in the room, thick and heavy, as it became harder to breathe normally.

All eyes were on me. I cleared my throat and finished the presentation without another interruption.

After the meeting concluded, Paul caught my eye before I could walk out and motioned for me to come over to him. He looked sideways to make sure everyone else was out of the room before speaking. "Elle, your proposal was fantastic. Truly, it was," he said with a broad smile.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Yeah, it went swimmingly.

"I know Mr. Guidry loved the proposal. I..." He trailed off, thinking about what he wanted to say. "Look, I know Mr. Guidry ignored you a little bit. I guess he thought that the other fellow was the broker on the account, and--"

"He thought I was just the assistant. I know!"

Paul grimaced at my sharp tone. "He was obviously wrong. Elle, there's no one like you. Remember, I appreciate you. Please know that." His lips curved into a gentle smile as he touched my shoulder.

"Thank you, Paul." I sighed and picked up my papers from the conference table. "I'll see you later tonight for drinks."

He shook his head absentmindedly. "Yep, sounds good." He looked to the door. "I'll catch you later, Elle."

I followed Paul out the door and turned to shuffle back to my desk. Men were exhausting, and that proposal had gone about as well as trying to swim upstream in the Mississippi River.

"How'd it go?" Anna asked as she approached me in the hallway.

"Chris was there." I shivered at the mention of his name.

Before she could answer, we were interrupted by the man himself, Chris Johnson. "Hey, Elle, nice work on the presentation this morning." He said it with a sarcastic smile. His nose crinkled and his eyes narrowed while he stared at me.

"Thanks, Chris." My lips pressed into a forced smile, and a small throb began in my temple.

"C'mon, Elle. I'm serious. You do a good job making PowerPoints and stuff. It was good." He tilted his head with a sly grin and brushed off imaginary dust from his shoulder.

"Don't you have work to do or something?" My cheeks burned, and the throbbing continued.

He didn't miss a step. "You know that Calloway account is a big deal. Why don't we do it together? I could help you."

"Chris, what makes you think I need your help? I appreciate your offer, but no thank you."

He rolled his eyes and leaned in close to me as if he were going to whisper a secret in my ear. Anna made a little gasp, but he didn't back away.

"All right, your loss." His voice was calm and sent a chill down my spine. "Paul thought it'd be a good idea, considering--well, never mind." He took a step back and looked down at me with a predatory grin. "You look hot when you're mad, Elle. It's all over your face, and I like it."

I almost vomited. My iced coffee was making its way up my throat.

He stood back and snickered at me, ignoring Anna. "Oh, by the way, I'm going out for drinks with Paul later. Ya know, guy time." He winked and turned to walk away, leaving me with my mouth open and shock spread across my face.

After Chris walked away, Anna grabbed my arm and pulled me into the restroom.

I'd always wondered why there was a couch in the women's restroom.

Now I understood. She pulled me down next to her and grabbed my hands.

I was still in shock. Why didn't I say anything to him? Why did my mouth forget how to move?

"Elle, are you okay? You don't look okay. Has he done that before?" Her eyes were soft but her gaze intent. Her concern felt like a hug I didn't realize I needed.

I shook my head and laughed half-heartedly. "I'm fine. No, he hasn't. I'm good, it's no big deal." Um, it is a big deal, and my hatred for that man has no limits.

She sat back and shook her head. "No, Elle, that's a huge deal. You need to report him. He got in your face, Elle!" Her wide eyes and firm grasp made me look away. The last thing I needed was a confrontation or a scene with Chris Johnson. I'd never win.

"Anna, seriously. I'm fine. I need to get back to my desk. I have a ton of things to get done today. I promise, I'm good." My heart was thundering in my chest, and each lie felt like a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach.

She lifted an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes. "You promise?"

"I promise." I squeezed her hands and gave her a gentle smile.

She walked with me back to my desk, then left with one last concerned glance.

I plopped onto my chair and pulled out my phone. I had a blaring fifty-eight missed text messages. I groaned and rubbed my temples; the throbbing was worse. I clicked on the icon to start reading what I had missed. There was no way I could let all those texts stay unread. Impossible.

I noticed most were from the girls, two from Paul, and a few spam messages. The most recent message was from Jude Ashford. My heart stopped mid-beat.

It had been years since I'd talked to Jude. My stomach knotted and my chest constricted. Was something wrong? Why was he texting me now? I clicked open his message.

Hey, Elle, totally random, sorry. I was thinking about you today.

Mom came to live with me in NY, and she asked me how you were doing.

She forgets more now, and I don't have the heart to tell her again and again that we don't talk much.

Hope you don't mind. Just wanted to say hi and hope all is well.

My mind went blank. Just thinking about me? Seriously? Five years later and he's just thinking about me? I tried not to overanalyze my reply. I didn't want to be mean, but literally, what the fuck was I supposed to say?

Hey, Jude. Good to hear from you. Tell your mom I said hi and I'm all right. I hope you are doing well in New York.

I hit send and waited for his response. I still had butterflies even though I knew this was nothing, we were nothing.

He was the past, and I couldn't go back.

I reread my text at least five times, waiting for the little dots to appear.

It was fine, it was professional and not too emotional. It was fine. I was fine.

My breath went shallow when three dots popped up on my screen.

I knew you'd understand. Thank you. :)

And that was it. He didn't even use a genuine emoji. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion while my heart was in desperate need of CPR. I took a deep breath and finally opened Paul's message.

Paul: Elle, I talked to Mr. Guidry. Looking good! I told you.

Me: Awesome! Thanks, Paul. I heard you and Chris have plans tonight.

I could feel the anger start to flow through my veins. Why hadn't he told me when he saw me literally within the past hour? I kept glancing at my phone to see if he responded, and each minute that went by, I seriously questioned our friendship. Texting bubbles popped up five minutes later.

Um, yeah. He asked me before the meeting today. I know you don't like him, so I figured I'd see him alone and spare you a night of hell. I didn't know how to tell you...

I had a bad feeling. I couldn't explain it, but ever since Chris walked away, something had felt off.

No problem, we'll chat soon.

I had nothing else to say. This day had gone to hell in a handbasket, and it wasn't even noon yet. Okay, on to the one million missed messages from the girls.

Me: Meeting's over, sorry that took so long. Okay, Rach, spill.

Rach: Welcome back! We've been talking about Chris Pratt vs. Henry Cavill while you've been away. Even though we all know that HC is superior.

Sarah: Shut up, Rach. We've discussed this at length. We called a truce!

Rach: Yes, yes, well, I was only catching Elle up.

OK, y'all ready for this idea?! I was watching one of those reality shows set at the beach, and this season was set in Puerto Vallarta.

It looked amazing! So, of course I've already done some research, and I think it would be the perfect all-inclusive girls' trip!

Sarah: Like Mexico?

Me: Wow, Rach. I thought you hated the beach? In fact, I remember you specifically saying, "I hate the beach," when we all went to Gulf Shores for spring break freshman year.

To be fair, I'm not a beach girl either. I much prefer the mountains or a trip to Europe, but when Rach got an idea, she ran with it.

Rach: Well, don't everyone clap at once.

Rach: And yes, I do usually hate the beach, however, I saw a resort ad for a week-long all-inclusive vacation there, and it legit looked too good to pass up. Plus, it's super cheap split three ways. So, Sarah, tell James this is mandatory self-care, and let's go! It's $500 each for the whole week.

Sarah: Ha, you knew my next question.

Me: When are you thinking of booking this trip, Rach?

All of the work I had to do was streaming across my mind, but then, I also thought of how nice guac on a beach would be with my two best friends.

I hadn't been on a real vacation in forever, and I'd been burning myself out with the Calloway account.

This could be a nice break once the account closed and I could put it behind me.

Rach: The special pricing expires at the end of May, so I was thinking the week of May 5! I know it's a short window, but we have to book and get the ball rolling. You guys in?

My heart stopped. Shit, the Calloway account.