11 e l e v e n : attainable

My senses stop functioning for a second, and when they return, that god-awful smell lingers in her wake.

I'd been resigned in my decision. I wasn't going to make any more snarky commentary, I wasn't going to see him outside of this setting, and I most definitely wasn't going to meet him in his office.

And yet I found myself placing one foot after the other on the way into that very place.

After lightly shutting the door, I wait for some type of response or indication from him. He probably just wants to increase my morale or something.

Instead, he focuses harder on whatever document he's holding, and we remain in silence.

"Umm, you called for me?" I ask shakily.

With the same distant and lightly cool expression as ever, he gestures to the seat in front of him.

I take a shallow gulp and sit down. What the hell is this about?

"You're in high school."

I know it's not a question because all my required personal information is in his system, and we've been over this before. However, his tone makes it seem ambiguous.

I slightly nod in response.

"You already have over 100 hours logged for community service. Why come here as well?"

I shrug. "I like giving back."

He nods gingerly. "We have an internship program—"

"I came here to help the needy, Mr. Staple. I don't expect any special favors for helping out."

Again, he's taken aback by my formality, but ultimately, he bites back.

"An unpaid internship is not a favor. It's an opportunity—a usually appreciated opportunity that the company offers to a select few."

"And you think I would be fit for this?" I ask, softening my expression.

I'm not one to bite the hand that feeds me.

He nods back, handing me the document he was holding. It's a waiver and agreement form for the position. "I will not reveal company secrets. I will not lose the company's money, blah, blah, blah."

He looks up with a wild grin. It is then that I realize I've been talking out loud.

I cup my mouth with my palm.

"That's essentially what it is," he murmurs.

Professional, Genevieve. Act professional.

"This is a wonderful opportunity, Mr. Staple. How could I ever repay you for such a—"

He crosses his arms and eyes me suspiciously.

"I-I swear that wasn't sarcasm. I'm really—"

"Well, for starters, you can call me Drake. I'm only 2 years older than you, and I'm not my father."

"But you are my superior," I counter.

From the look on his face, I sense my own ridiculousness. At this point, considering our behavior, could I even call him that?

"Technically, yes, but we can dismiss the formalities," he shrugs.

What is it that Mr. Grey says? Fuck the paperwork.

"Okay," I nod. "Tha-Thank you, very much."

A shadow of a smirk appears on his face.

As I close his door behind me, I angrily smack my forehead like a madwoman. Luckily for me, his assistant is across the hall, staring daggers through me.

* * *

"The weirdest shit just happened," I exclaim.

"Yeah, here's my number, and—" Claire mumbles to someone.

She looks up after my entrance. "Hey, girl."

After putting her number in the guy's phone, she turns to me.

"Who is that?" I whisper.

She shrugs. "Some guy we volunteer with."

"Hmm," I nod. "Guess you're over Staple then."

She cackles. "That man is sex on legs… everyone has a minor crush on him, even you. The difference is that I separate a crush from reality. I would never actually get with him."

Oh. Good to know, I guess?

I nod.

"But that guy is attainable," she smirks, pointing to the guy who departed a second ago.

She shifts her weight. "I got a few more numbers. We can double date."

"I have a… boyfriend." I scratch my neck.

"Oh, right. I think you told me about that. Offer still stands, though. You can invite your man," she beams.

"I'll think about it," I shrug.

* * *

"So I carry the one, an—"

"No, Lucy." I carefully erase her marks.

"You don't carry, you—"

"No, you're wrong," she whines.

This is what I get for tutoring 5 year-olds. Now, why would I want to spend 4 hours a week tutoring Kindergarteners during my summer break? Because of the kindness of my heart? No. This actually looks good on my college resume.

My phone pings, and I think we both need a break. "Let's just take a breather. Do you want a snack?" I gesture toward the kitchen cabinets.

She nods rapidly, shuffling toward the snack cabinet.

"Hey, are you free?" Aaron texts.

My passive aggressive side wants to leave him on read, but I give in.

"Yeah," I respond.

He immediately calls me.

After an uncomfortable silence, he speaks up. "Hey."

"Hello," I mutter awkwardly.

"I-I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For…" he hums and clicks his tongue. Just like I thought—he doesn't even know what he did wrong.

"For?"

"Okay, to be honest, I don't know why you're avoiding me all the sudden," he settles.

I sigh deeply.

"Okay, for starters, you lied to me the other day."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said that you were busy, and I found you in Saxby's keekee-ing with your friends. You didn't believe me about that stupid fucking picture. You invited yourself into my house and interrogated me about going to a party. For some reason, you were drunk off your ass at Sophie's house, when you know she has problems with alcohol."

With every passing second, I'm fuming more and more intensely.

As I'm met with silence, I anxiously rub my forehead. "I have to go. I'm tutoring today, remember?"

Dial tone click.

I turn to see little Lucy munching on a Rice Krispy treat. She's calmed down a bit, so I revisit the problem we disagreed on.

She was right.

* * *

Who am I?

Really?

Why the hell would colleges want to know this? I don't even know.

I close my laptop in a huff. The college admission process has put me through enough anxiety, and this summer's current events have only made it worse.

A new update pops up on clarenton secrets.

"Sophie's wasted… again. Wonder what the rest of the summer will be like for little miss reporter… Drink responsibly, kids."

Beneath the caption is a picture of Sophie hurling over her toilet seat. How the hell—

No one but her, LeAnn, and I were in that bathroom. Maybe some vulture, hoping to climb the social ladder, snapped the picture.

This drama page is toxic as hell. I hate that it took my own scandal for me to be fed up with this shit.

Our group chat comes alive.

"Did you guys see that pic?" LeAnn asks.

"Yeah, that shit was fucked!" Cas responds.

"We need to take this bitch down," I add.

"?" Cas texts.

"Whoever runs clarenton secrets," I clarify.

"I'm in," Cas agrees.

"Me too," LeAnn chimes in.

And so it begins.