Pretty Little Mistake

I’m hearing what Brendan’s telling me. The words make sense. But I don’t believe them. Or I just refuse to.

“No,” I say, almost on a growl.

“No?” He arches a brow.

It’s the start of Lennon’s second week, and Brendan wants to partner me with her? Fuck no.

“She’s a newbie,” I argue, though that’s not the reason I’m so adamantly against this. “You know I’m the best photographer you have here. Why would you want to stick us together?” Tension has my shoulders practically climbing to my ears. I force myself to let them drop, to appear as calm as I can in this situation.

In the short time she’s been here, I’ve done my absolute best to avoid her, to be unaffected. As much as I’d like to think she can’t get under my skin anymore, I’m not sure I’m ready to test that theory by being forced to work with her in such close capacity.

Brendan shrugs. “It’s not me. It’s Jaci. She sees something in Lennon. Potential or whatever. She was pleased with the articles Lennon wrote last week and with her input on things. I guess she might see her as some potential protégé or something.”

He looks over to where she sits at her computer. Hair in that stupid, too-tight bun. I want to rip it out and watch her hair cascade down her back, then take that hair and wrap it around my fist. Force her mouth to mine.

That bun doesn’t suit her. It looks like something her prim mother would make her wear to events when we were younger. The real Lennon isn’t uptight like the bun leads one to believe.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do with this potential?” Ice drips from my words, so much so that Brendan takes a step away from me, eyeing me peculiarly. I’m letting my emotions show too much. When I’m here, I’m Sulli, and right now I’m letting too much of Beckham show through—the guy who was never good enough in some people’s eyes, certainly not the right kind of guy for Lennon.

“She wants you two to work together to come up with a unique concept. Something groundbreaking that makes people stop and think. Her words, not mine. She’s giving everyone until January to come up with something and present a proposal; then she’s picking the best one to be refined and go to print in the spring.”

It’s July now. “She never gives us this long.” I narrow my eyes on my friend, wondering what the catch is. This has to be some kind of trick. A test, perhaps? Maybe I haven’t appeared as indifferent as I thought, and now Jaci has cooked up some kind of half-assed idea to figure out what my problem is.

No, that can’t be it.

Jaci believes in a collaborative work environment, sure, but not even she would come up with something like this just to get a reaction out of someone.

“You know Jaci, she’s always thinking up something.”

I rub my clean-shaven jaw. I’m never one to shy away from a challenge, but working with Lennon?

“Why is she sticking me with the newbie?” It would make more sense for her to pair me with one of the more seasoned writers. I’m trying to get an understanding of where she’s coming from, of what her thoughts are, because right now nothing is making sense.

“Like I said, she sees potential in her. She must think you can take her under your wing and make something great happen.”

I stifle the urge to snort. What a load of bullshit. But I can’t exactly say no. This is my job, and if Jaci wants me to work with Lennon, then what choice do I have?

“Fine,” I growl, not happy about this outcome, but if I want to keep my job, I can’t complain too much, or it’ll raise suspicion. I could go any number of places, make a lot more money, too, but this is what appeals to me. I have no interest in fashion magazines, and I already traveled the world taking photos after college. When I first met Jaci through a mutual friend, I was inspired by her drive to create something different in the market that couldn’t be pigeonholed into one category. I view working here as an opportunity to grow with something that will likely become huge one day. Jaci doesn’t want to write about only politics, or world issues, or fashion. She wants to put a focus on real people and bring light to your average citizen, highlighting the fact that there’s more to every single person out there than what we see on the surface. Not that the magazine doesn’t touch on other things, but that’s quickly becoming her main focus. For me, getting to meet these people and hear their stories is something I won’t find anywhere else. “I’ll see what I can do with her.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “Go easy on her.”

Why does he assume I won’t?

I stride toward Lennon and stop beside her, letting my shadow fall over her body. She freezes, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. I know she feels me at her side.

She doesn’t acknowledge me, forcing me to speak first.

“Come with me.” It’s an order and she knows it, based on the way her hands clench involuntarily. I might be well schooled in keeping my emotions in check, but not Lennon. No, she’s always been an open book. Easy to read.

She tilts that elegant neck back, brown eyes narrowed on me like she wishes she could render me dead on the spot. A part of me wants to smile. But I won’t give her the satisfaction.

“Did you hear me?”

Her lips twist and I know, I just fucking know, there’s a sassy retort on the tip of her tongue. But unfortunately for me she swallows it back. How disappointing.

She glances at Claire a few feet away from her at the long table, seated at another desktop.

“Why are you looking at her? She’s not the one talking to you.”

Red blooms on her tanned cheeks, and I wait in eager anticipation for her to finally say whatever it is I know she wants to. But I’m left in disappointment when she shoves her chair back—forcing me to step away so she doesn’t run over my foot—and stands, glaring haughtily at me.

That fire. A part of me wants to stoke it, watch it grow, while another part wants nothing more than to extinguish it.

I don’t say anything, just turn and walk away, knowing she’ll follow.

Sure enough, I hear the telltale clicking of her heels behind me. I open the door to my office, letting her inside first. If my eyes drop to the sway of her hips, it’s completely by accident.

I sit down behind my desk and roll up my shirtsleeves. She smirks about something, my eyes zeroing in on her lips. Dammit if I don’t want to ask her what’s so amusing, but I keep my mouth shut. About that, at least.

I drop the bomb on her, no preamble. “Jaci wants us to work together on a project.”

She sits up straighter, running her hand over her perfectly coiffed dark hair like she’s afraid a strand is out of place. “Us? Why?”

I flatten my hands on my desk, spreading my fingers. Her eyes follow the gesture, the tiniest catch of her breath the only sound in the room for a moment.

“She’s under the assumption there’s something special about you. I wish I could tell her you’re perfectly average in all ways, but that’s not my place.” She glares at me like she wishes she could light me on fire. “Apparently everyone’s getting partnered up.” I wave a dismissive hand. “And you and me, we’re together.” I expect her to say something, anything, but she sits there in stone-cold silence. I go on: “We need to come up with a compelling story and put together a proposal by January. From there, Jaci is picking her favorite idea to go to print in the spring. I don’t like to lose, so we will be chosen.”

She shakes her head, looking baffled. “You say that so definitively.”

“Because I believe it.”

She stares at me like I’m both a stranger and the most familiar person on the planet. I suppose that’s true. We used to know each other inside and out. She was the person who knew me better than anyone, even more than her brother, my best friend at the time, did. Lennon was the person I could share my darkest worries, my deepest thoughts, with.

She looks at me doubtfully. “Why is she putting me with you?” I can see her mind sorting through thoughts, and I know exactly what she’s thinking when surprise flits over her features.

I lean back in my chair. Cool, calm, collected. If there’s anything my adoptive father taught me, it’s to always have the upper hand. “I know what you’re thinking, and no, I didn’t ask to be paired with you.”

She tries to hide her emotions, but I see the tiniest downturn of her lips and know I’ve struck a nerve. Steel infuses her once more, and I hate to admit it, but she just might be a worthy opponent. I want her to fight back. I want to see how much of a spine she has.

“When do we start?”

I smile on the inside. “Right now.”