Love & Lattes by Beth Reekles

Author:Beth Reekles [Reekles, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2024-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

18

The neat rows of chairs under the marquee have long since been abandoned, and while some people have dropped to the ground on the handful of picnic blankets that were provided, most of us are standing around nursing cool drinks or with plates of food. The presentations are over and team-building activities wrapped up, with Topher Fletcher’s grand middle-of-the-year pep talk having segued seamlessly into the arrival of the food and the opening of the pop-up bar. The well-organized all-team meeting has dissolved into rowdy games of boules, a game of tag started by a tipsy marketing department, and plenty of lounging around.

It’s a total change from the stern, focused faces of people always hurrying around the office or bent intently over their computers.

I lean back on my elbows in the grass, face tilted up toward the sun. Burnley’s head rests on one of my thighs as he sprawls out flat, bemoaning how full he is after scarfing down three burgers and two hot dogs in practically one go from the barbecue. For such a petite guy, he sure can eat.

Elaine sits delicately next to him, legs folded beneath her, with Freya on her other side. Louis and Dylan sit back-to-back, playing some silly game Louis just invented that is a mix of Bullshit and Rock, Paper, Scissors, busy arguing over the nonexistent rules (which I swear Louis changes every time he’s challenged on them or is losing the game). Monty ambles back over with a plate laden with vegetable skewers, and Burnley doesn’t hesitate to take one.

I jostle my leg to get his attention. “If you’re sick on my lap, I’ll hold it against you forever.”

His defensive retort is mostly lost through a mouthful of chargrilled red pepper and Halloumi, but I’m pretty sure it’s something like, “What, me? I would never. You wound me, Anna.”

Across the lawn, standing with a group of people I’ve come to recognize as interns from way back when, Tasha laughs. It’s a high, grating sound that carries; I pick it out from among the other sounds of the party, my ears pricking up before I look over at her. She tosses her hair at some guy from HR. Izzy and Verity are with her, and one of the guys from our cohort. Again, I have to wonder if it’s only me who dislikes Tasha—if I’m the problem.

With any luck, though, we’ll never see each other again after this summer. Even if that means I get offered a job here (I hope) and she doesn’t (I also hope).

Turning away from her, I spot some of the other interns scattered about in different groups. A few—mainly the more viciously competitive ones, who apparently care much less than I do about appearing “unlikable” and prefer to keep to themselves—stand around now with their teams from the office. My own team is similarly scattered, so I don’t feel obligated to spend any particular amount of time with them beyond building a tower of marshmallows and spaghetti earlier as part of a teamwork exercise.

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