The Design

  “And Cameron,” he spoke, forcing me to pause as my hand hit the doorknob. I turned my head to look back at him, hope brimming through every pore. “It’s not Grayson. It’s Mr. Cole. I’m not your friend while you’re here.”

  I bristled at his reprimand. There he was. The formal prick. He wanted to put me in my place, but I knew his secret now. You can’t just turn attraction off like a light switch. I may have had skinned knees and smudged makeup, but I was the same girl I’d been for the last twenty-two years, which meant—deep down—Grayson was still attracted to me. A small smirk unfolded across my lips as I realized the power that knowledge gave me.

  “And what about when I’m not here?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and staring into his blue eyes with more confidence than I’d felt all morning.

  He studied me for a moment, unmoving, then he pressed his finger back onto his phone’s intercom button. “Beatrice, please escort Ms. Heart out of my office and then get Mitch back on the line.”

  I laughed at his obvious choice to ignore my question and then turned and saw myself out of his office. No need for the escort. Beatrice gave me a knowing glance as I passed by her desk, and I smiled.

  As I rode the elevator down to the first floor, I thought of the deal I’d made with myself. I had a very clear outline: concentrate on work, save up, and then fly away to Paris forever. But… maybe, there was room for an amendment to the plan? The end goal would remain the same, but what did it matter if I had a little fun before I left?

  After all, I’d just landed my dream job, so it looked like I was onto the newest item on my to-do list:

  Grayson Cole.

  Chapter Four

  I left Cole Designs and took a cab directly to Brooklyn’s condo. No passing go. No collecting two hundred dollars. She opened the door for me and stared wide-eyed at my disheveled ensemble before ushering me inside.

  “You look like crap-ola,” she said, swinging the door open wide. Sisters can get away with saying things like that. Anyone else would have gotten a swift kick to the face.

  “I need alcohol. All the alcohol.”

  Brooklyn laughed and eyed me suspiciously as she pulled down two mugs from a cabinet. “Let’s start with coffee. It’s not even noon yet.”

  Could it really still be that early? So much had already happened.

  “Okay, but it better be mostly amaretto.”

  I watched Brooklyn move around her kitchen, admiring her long blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a loose bun. She was usually out and about by this hour, either at the studio, recording an album, or driving around town for meetings. I must have caught her on a slow day because she was still in her pajamas. (Which, by the way, had little crunchy tacos dancing down the pants. The matching shirt said “Jalapeño business”. Ha. My sister is witty.)

  “Remember when you and your sweet piece of man candy first met?” I asked.

  “His name is Jason,” she warned over her shoulder. “But sure, what’s up?”

  “Yeah, Jason, that’s what I said. Anyway, I had a morning that kind of tops everything that ever happened between the two of you.”

  “Wow,” she laughed. “That’s saying a lot, but y’know whatever.”

  “No, seriously, you guys are so yesterday,” I joked.

  Brooklyn narrowed her eyes playfully. “Well. Not really. I mean all of the magazines are still reporting about our—”

  “Yeah, we get it. Two pop stars fell in love while riding horses and eating cow pies. Boooring. You guys are like a Lifetime movie where the moral is ‘be attractive’.”

  “You have two seconds to get to the point or I’m kicking you out of my condo,” she threatened while pointing toward the door.

  “Grab me a donut first,” I insisted with a smile that said “I’m your little sister, please give me donuts.”

  She rolled her eyes before turning toward the refrigerator and pulling out some leftover donuts and coffee creamer. I filled up our coffee mugs and took my seat across from her once again so that I could fix my cup: 10 parts cream to one part coffee. (The only way to enjoy a cup, in my opinion.)

  I stuffed the powdered donut into my mouth and tried to process where to begin for Brooklyn. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her the truth or keep the interview more private, so instead I shoved another bite of donut into my mouth. The powdered sugar tickled the back of my throat and I started coughing unbearably. Every time I tried to take a breath, it just got worse, and I ended up spitting about 99% of the powdered sugar out onto Brooklyn’s kitchen counter.

  She flinched back in mock disgust. “Dude! You are an animal. How am I related to you?” But then when I didn’t stop coughing, she started to feel bad.

  “Are you okay?”

  I grabbed for my coffee mug and drank a giant gulp. The liquid finally calmed my cough down enough that I could breath normally again. (No thanks to Brooklyn pounding on my back like a wild gorilla.)

  Tell her the truth. Just say it. Now.

  “Grashsyn admitihehdhe hasfe elingsfhorme,” I spoke against the ceramic mug.

  Brooklyn laughed and pulled the coffee mug away from my mouth. “Say that again, this time in English.”

  I stared down at her marble countertops, wishing I could take another bite of donut. Tell her and then you can eat another bite. “Grayson admitted he’s attracted to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Or used to be attracted to me. Whatever. I don’t know.”

  Brooklyn gasped with mock surprise before bursting out laughing.

  I studied her, trying to get a read. “You knew about it, didn’t you? What the hell?”

  Had she been holding out on me?

  She held up her hands in defense. “No, honestly. I didn’t. I just had a hunch.”

  I wanted to throttle her for details. How long had she suspected something? Couldn’t she tell that I’d been hopelessly pining after him for years?

  She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest so that I couldn’t see the nosy taco on her shirt anymore.

  “I swear it was a recent development on my part. I was going to bring it up with you after your interview, which, I’m guessing went well since you haven’t mentioned anything about it yet.”

  I smiled wide. “Oh, yeah, that. I totally nailed it.”

  She grinned and came around the kitchen island to wrap me in a hug. “Congrats! I knew you would. When do you start?”

  “I have a new hire orientation at 8:00 am Monday morning.”

  “Perfect,” she clapped. “I’m taking you to get a first day outfit, and then you can tell me all about the interview.”

  …

  Monday morning I found myself standing in the bathroom on the ground floor of the Sterling Bank Building, studying my appearance in the floor-length mirror. I scanned down my new outfit. My pleated black pants hugged my thighs and accentuated my giraffe-like legs (No, seriously, I’d been teased about it in school. Giraffe Girl. Giraffe legs. Cameraffe. You get the idea.).

  My white silk blouse had a black bow that fell against the center of my chest like a soft necklace. My chestnut brown hair fell down my back in artful layers that Brooklyn had helped me blow out earlier that morning.

  Would Grayson like this look?

  The question popped into my thoughts before I could stop myself, and then an annoying blush crept up around my cheeks and neck, tinting my skin with a blotchy red glow. Dammit.

  I fanned my face and took a deep breath, knowing I needed to get a move on if I wanted to be five minutes early for the new hire orientation. I wasn’t sure how many of the applicants they’d hired the other day, but I just prayed I wouldn’t be the only one.

  When the elevator doors swung open on the twentieth floor, I stepped out to join three fresh-faced new hires standing in the lobby. I smiled when I realized that among them was the nice girl, Hannah, who’d chatted with me before my interview the week before.

  “You got the job!” she said as she watched me step
out of the elevator.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, choosing not to elaborate any further considering I wasn’t sure what job I’d actually landed yet. For all I knew I was part of the junior janitorial squad.

  The other two new hires both rattled off their names and I promptly ran through them again in my head so I wouldn’t instantly forget them. There was Christoph, a tall boy with a bow tie and clear-framed glasses who seemed to take himself far too seriously. He scanned over my outfit when he shook my hand, nodding agreeably at my designer blouse. The other boy, Nathan, had long brown hair that he swept back into a ponytail. He was the most casually dressed out of all four of us in dark jeans and a wrinkled button-down. All in all, I thought we looked like a cool, well-rounded bunch.

  “Is everyone ready?” Beatrice asked, pulling our attention to the doorway behind reception where she stood waiting.

  Hannah and I exchanged a quick glance and then I nodded.

  “Yup.” Bring on the janitorial duties.

  For the next three hours, the four of us were required to sit in the conference room, filling out tax and insurance forms and listening to the run down on company policies. It was so boring that for one thirty minute stretch I had a vivid day dream about Michael Fassbender, in which he taught me how to drive stick shift and then we bumped uglies in the back of his car.

  Finally, after my butt was mostly asleep, Beatrice gave us a tour of the office. The engineering and accounting departments were filled with the standard suspects: picture lots of plaid, wrinkled khakis, and buttons threatening to pop at the seams. The interior design department was a whole different species altogether. The seven women that worked in interiors were each prettier and more polished than the last. The scent of their perfume and hair spray masked the usual office smells as soon as we stepped into their department.

  Beatrice lined us up at the front of their small conference area and I felt seven pairs of eyes rake over my outfit and mentally shred it to pieces. Had this blouse seemed chic earlier? It now felt like I was wrapped in trash I’d pulled out of the back of a Walmart dumpster. Christoph and Nathan fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the face of all that beauty. Down, boys.

  Just when my self-esteem was at an all time low, one of the interior designers, who had straight front bangs and dainty features, stepped up and smiled.

  “Ah, a new batch of architects,” she said with a honey-dipped tone as she brushed her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. “My name is Serenity.” (No, seriously, that was her name. Like she was some exotic mermaid washed up on land to grace us with her presence.) “I’ll be your point-person for most projects. You won’t really need to come into our department much; we work mainly with senior associates.”

  Serenity paused so she could glance over each of us. Her mouth twisted up into a curious smile when she landed on me.

  “Will you be working with us? I wasn’t aware we were getting any new interior designers.”

  My eyes widened and I glanced toward Beatrice for backup. She shook her head.

  “Cammie is a new associate designer in the architecture department,” Beatrice clarified, for both Serenity and me.

  Serenity’s smile fell. “Oh, well then. Do you need anything else?” she asked.

  For one short moment, they’d wanted to accept me into their weird gynocracy. When Beatrice shook her head again, the glamazon designers smiled smugly and then at once, they turned and went back to work. Clearly they were done discussing their jobs with us.

  “They thought you were one of them,” Hannah whispered with a hint of amusement as we turned to leave.

  I bristled at the thought. I’d rather work with ten burly construction workers then spend my days in a room with seven beautiful women. I’d have a nervous breakdown from the scrutiny and the estrogen after five minutes. Could you even imagine?

  After the interior design department, Beatrice led us through a few other sections of the office, and then we were on our way back to the main room. We passed by Grayson’s office and I glanced inside, hoping to get a quick peek of him at work. I shouldn’t have looked. Serenity was sitting on the edge of his desk with a mischievous smile coating her red lips. Of course… how very cliché of him to like the exotic mermaid chick. I rolled my eyes and looked away before Grayson had a chance to glance up and find me spying on him.

  When we made it back to the conference room, I took a seat next to Hannah and replaced the image of Grayson and Serenity with the image of a dozen strawberry sprinkled donuts. There, much better.

  “So have you figured out where you’re going to live yet?” Hannah asked.

  I glanced over. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admitted. It was the truth: I’d slept at Brooklyn’s condo the night before, but I only had four days left before I had to move out of my dorm.

  “Yeah, same here,” she nodded.

  Then, it clicked. She was trying to introduce the subject of us being roommates without looking too desperate.

  “I know it’s kind of weird and you hardly know me,” I began, “but we’ll both be going to the same place every morning…”

  She gave me a weird look. “I’m sorry—are you hitting on me? I’m not a lesbian.”

  What? What?

  “Uhh, neither am I. Why would you think that? I thought you were trying to ask me to be your roommate a second ago.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened. “Oh, right. Okay, yeah. Sure, I’ll be your roommate. But uh, we’re not sharing a room.”

  I was pretty sure she still thought I was a lesbian. Oh well, it’s not like I had other roommate options. I didn’t want to stay with Brooklyn and paying for my own place would eat into my Paris budget.

  …

  Later that night I chatted on the phone with Brooklyn while I worked on packing up my dorm room.

  “Where should we go for my celebratory dinner this weekend? I want somewhere good. Don’t hold out on me, sis,” I joked as I shoved another sweater into a cardboard box, thus solving the age-old question: How much crap can Cammie stuff into a single box? Answer: a lot. I was halfway done packing up my tiny dorm room, throwing random articles of clothing into bags and boxes along with various trinkets I’d collected over my college career.

  “I’m not sure, but I got Grayson to agree to come out with us,” Brooklyn replied.

  “You did what?!” I asked, almost dropping my phone to the floor mid-shout. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because, Cammie, we’re celebrating your new job and he’s the reason you have the new job in the first place. He hired you! What’s with the dramatic response? I thought it’d be good for you to see him outside of work, y’know, have a chance to talk to him one-on-one.”

  I groaned.

  “Do I want to know how you convinced him?” I asked, propping the phone between my shoulder and my head so that I could fold my favorite Harry Potter sweater. It had a giant “H” knit onto the front and it was supposed to be a replica of the one Mrs. Weasley gave Harry his first year at Hogwarts. It served as a barometer for friend-making: if you got the reference, we could be besties.

  “I just asked him nicely, said I’d pick him up, and threatened to end our friendship if he said no. There might have also been a Snapchat of knives. Whatever. I swear his automatic response to anything in life is no, so I just had to convince him to say yes this time.”

  “Oh god, Brooklyn. You’re insane. Listen, I gotta go. Hannah and I are apartment searching tomorrow after work and I’ve got to finish packing up my dorm.”

  Brooklyn hummed across the line. “Who is this Hannah? Can you even trust her? You just met her.”

  “Gah, Brook, you’re such a mom. I wish you and Jason would spawn some baby musicians already so you’d have someone else to worry about all the time.”

  “Okay… but still, why don’t you just move in with me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Two reasons. One, you only have one bedroom and I’m not sleeping between you and Jason. Two, I can’t bring
home guys to your condo. That’s just gross.” I left out the third reason: the need to separate my life from hers, but I knew she wouldn’t take that answer well.

  “Oh! So you’re planning on bringing guys home all the time?”

  I shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “Not plural. Just one guy.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she replied.

  I had no clue.

  We said our goodbyes and confirmed dinner for Friday. I dropped my phone onto my nightstand and propped my hands on my hips, wondering how I’d find the time to pack, search for a new apartment, impress my new coworkers, and figure out how to seduce Grayson… all in four days.

  Chapter Five

  Amount saved for Paris: $122

  Items I have: a printed travel checklist of all the things I needed to get. Hey, that counts as being productive.

  Items I need: everything on my printed travel checklist.

  French phrases that I know: Bonjour, mon nom est Cammie. Je suis américain et votre accent est sexy… which I think translates into “Hello, my name is Cammie. I’m American and your accent is sexy.”

  Tuesday morning, I followed Beatrice to my assigned desk for my first real day of work. I carried a small box with me filled with notebooks, my favorite drafting pencil, and a photo of Brooklyn and I when we were kids. It was just enough personalization to ensure that I’d remember which of the array of nearly identical desks was mine.

  We passed through the center of the main room and arrived at a cluster of four rectangular desks closest to the back wall of offices. The corner desk was empty and waiting for me. As I neared the desk grouping, I realized that if I leaned back in my chair, I’d have a clear view into Grayson’s office, which also meant, that at any given time, he’d have a clear view of me.

  “This will be your team, Cammie,” Beatrice said with a distracted smile before wandering off and leaving me with my new tablemates. The man sitting across from the empty desk smiled up at me. His wild red beard was so outgrown that it nearly covered his neck.