16 s i x t e e n : "Do Not Disturb"

"Jake," Claire says, staring up at him.

"Hey Jake," I wave.

She can't keep her eyes off him. They're practically twinkling because of his presence. Jax who?

He nods dismissively at her, then he turns to me. "Do you want a drink?"

I glance at Claire, and she's biting her lip. Shrugging, I say, "Sure. Claire, are you coming?"

She nods silently. We follow him to the kitchen island, where bottles of brown and white liquor litter the marble countertop.

Jake reaches up for a plastic party cup. Well, he doesn't have to reach that high. He has to be at least 6'3.

"Um, are there any beer bottles… or wine coolers?" I ask.

He sets the cup back down. "Oh, yeah sure." He opens the cooler and pulls us out two cold bottles. I offer one to Claire, but she declines.

"Shouldn't you be 100% sober?" she crosses her arms.

"There's less than 5% alcohol in this," I shrug. "Plus, it's going to be my only drink for the night." What have I done that suggests I'm irresponsible with alcohol?

I take a swig and glance over to Jake. He's clutching a red solo cup and eyeing me carefully. Some bop from 2016 booms through the speakers, and I can feel my chest bouncing with every beat.

"Wanna go somewhere more private?" he asks lowly.

I know how this story ends. Claire looks at him suspiciously, then she eyes me, seemingly asking you okay?

I nod silently. "Uh, sure."

He leads me to the master bedroom upstairs. The penthouse is actually pretty grand. A house like this in SoHo has to go for at least 4 million dollars. I could get used to being invited to parties like this. The room has an en suite bathroom, of course. The wall-length windows show one of the best views of the city, casting a deep glow onto the expensive carpet and furniture. I like the neutral theme of the room—a sharp difference from my teal, 2014-esque room.

"So, this is where I sleep," he shrugs.

I nod. "It's really nice. I love the view." Now, why'd you bring me here?

He takes a seat on one of the plush gray couches, and pats the seat next to him, indicating for me to follow suit. I plop down and take another glance at him, this time fully registering his appearance. His gray eyes almost perfectly match the couch. The Pinterest lover in me is quaking. As you get closer to his pupils, the gray morphs into a fiery gold hue. His sharp nose beautifully accentuates his full lips. And his dark hair—

"Gen?" he whispers.

"Huh? I—Have you been talking this whole time?" I ask, flustered.

"No."

After another awkward moment, I speak up. "What did you want to tell me?"

I take another swig of my drink.

"Just that I think you're beautiful."

"Does this work on the others?" I ask sardonically.

He chuckles. "It's really touch and go." He suddenly leans in after placing down his drink.

"I have a boyfriend," I whisper. "I-I can't."

He nods slowly, picking his drink back up. "I see."

"You must want to return to the party. You know, so you can get some action tonight?"

My words could break ice. I don't know why, but I lashed out.

He's taken aback. "Action? I just thought you were interesting, and—"

"And you wanted to fuck me?" I finish, crossing my arms.

He chuckles darkly. "No. I would ask you on a date. You know, take you somewhere nice," he pokes my shoulder. I giggle—did I mention that I'm deathly ticklish?

He straightens, "Why do you want me to be an asshole?"

"Hmm?"

"Ever since we met, it seems like you're resisting having any type of relationship with me. Like you want me to be someone you have to run away from," he says earnestly. He places his palm on my shoulder opposite him and pulls me closer. "What are you afraid of?"

Maybe I have been a little reserved, even with Claire. I have a good reason. It's evident in the nasty stares I got at Saxby's, and the side-eyes I got around my neighborhood. I'm met with either pity or disgust now.

I'm afraid of… judgement.

I sigh finally. "No-Nothing. Let's be… friends then."

He smiles. "Yay."

Yay.

Suddenly, my phone pings with a message. "R u okay? Where r u?" from Claire.

I text her back, assuring her that I'm fine. I feel bad about leaving her alone down there.

"If we're gonna be friends, then no more ogling me with those eyes," he says into his solo cup.

I gasp. "What eyes?"

"Those eyes."

Whatever.

"You stop ogling… me."

He rolls his eyes. "Welp, this isn't how I planned this night to go."

I wrinkle my nose.

"I expected to make out, maybe get a little PG-13," he smirks.

This genuinely makes me laugh. I cackle at an excessive volume as he blushes uncontrollably.

"You're funny," I whisper, out of breath.

"I guess I got a weird vibe from you," he chuckles.

"Hmm?"

"I thought you were flirting with me. I swear, if I didn't think you were into me, I wouldn't have tried anything with you. Gen, I want you to know that I would never be that kind of guy," he says.

He seems incredibly genuine. I just had my walls up—steel walls.

"I know. You're sweet, and you deserve someone who will appreciate that."

I think things have officially gotten too weird…

"You know," I bite my lip, "I should go."

"N-No. I swear, I'm not gonna try—"

"It's not that. I left my friend down there."

He nods understandingly. I pick up my bottle and head toward the quartz double doors. I snap back around. "You didn't tell me you lived here."

"Not usually something I lead with," he says sheepishly.

He really does deserve the best.

Before I can grab hold of the chrome handles of the doors, they're pulled outward.

"I'm not helping you clean this shit up."

I know that voice all too well.

"Drake?"

He straightens and lets go of the door handles. "Genevieve."

"It's Gen," Jake corrects.

"You know him?" I ask Jake.

He shrugs. "We might be related."

"Distantly related," Drake comments.

"Aww, your names even rhyme," I joke.

Drake runs a hand through his hair. "He's my cousin. My stupid cousin, who's throwing this big ass party, with random strangers, and who's also going to clean it all up."

Jake huffs. "Relax."

My supervisor looks me up and down, and then he shifts his gaze over to his cousin.

I shuffle nervously. "Well, I'm gonna go back down to the party." Discreetly, I whisper, "This got weirder than weird."

From behind me, I can hear Drake whisper, "Did you two--?"

"No," Jake groans. "Almost did, though."

* * *

After about 3 drinks, Claire's dancing on strangers and screaming out song lyrics at the top of her lungs.

"What has gotten into you?" I yell over the music.

"V-Vodka," she stammers.

I giggle in response. My one wine cooler isn't nearly enough to get me through the events of tonight, but sadly I'm the designated driver. I hate to say this, but I want to be as drunk as I was the night of Josh's party. That night, I was the closest to understanding the appeal of drinking to Sophie. The rush I got, the absence of inhibition—it was thrilling.

"Are you really this plastered after 3 drinks?"

"3 drinks since you came down," she corrects.

Right.

"Okay, I'm cutting your tab." I take the solo cup from her and charge toward the kitchen. I watch the alcohol swirl around the large stone sink. Drake is throwing back a shot next to the fridge.

"You're pretty," Claire slurs before planting a slobbery kiss on some girl's lips.

I guess I'm back on babysitting duty.

"Dude, she's a 7 at best," some guy says in passing.

"After a few drinks, man I don't even care," his friend adds.

The first guy rolls his eyes and prods over to a group of girls. Ah, college guys in their natural habitat.

"Hey, hey," I say calmly, placing Claire's body on a couch.

"BODY SHOTS."

"Shit, umm—" I sweep my hair back in frustration. A crowd of partiers approaches us with lime slices, salt shakers, and alcohol.

"Come on," I help Claire up.

"AHCSBSAIDU," she gargles incoherently.

"Let's go upstairs." I'm walking with her as if I own the place. Of the many decadent rooms in the place, I lead her to the closest one.

I had to haul her over my shoulder. Years of carrying an 80 pound boat for rowing have prepared me adequately.

"Are you wearing a corset to a house party?" I exclaim through a whisper.

She's unconscious and nodding off at this point. Nothing I haven't seen before. I untie the laces on the corset to let her breathe. Instantly, her body relaxes. It leaves red welts on her skin. I touch them softly, and her body jolts with each brush of my fingers.

"What the hell?" I jump back. Looking at the corset in horror, I fling it onto the dresser.

Then the door bursts open, and I use myself as a human body shield for Claire.

"Oh shoot, is this room occupied?"

"Yes," I hiss.

I'm beginning to think that parties are just not my scene. Lately, nothing good has come from my admission.

She sits peacefully with her back pressed to the headboard. Something tells me that I'm going to learn a lot more about this girl in the next couple months.

As I'm getting up to leave, I see one of those "Do Not Disturb" tags on the back of the doorknob. Attached, there is a note: "In case you get up to any adult activities up here, there's a key." Cheeky.

Alright. I can leave her here with the door locked. It's about 1am. The night is still young. She'll wake up soon.

I lock the door behind me, then I'm met with a less than approving look from Drake.

"Uh, I—"

"Having some 'adult' time," he crosses his arms.

Is he drunk or something?

"So, you wrote that note?" I ask, as I hang the "Do Not Disturb" tag on the doorknob.

"No, I just know my cousin," he frowns.

"The answer is no. My friend got blackout drunk, and I had to take care of her," I shrug.

"She seemed like she needed to get something off her mind earlier," he says.

He saw us come in?

When I first met Claire, she seemed like a bright light that never goes out. Her energy, her sense of humor, her willingness to say exactly what she means—they all make up her personality, at least how I know her. I get the inkling that there's something darker underneath all that.

I snap out of my trance.

"Genevieve," he waves a hand in the air. His rings and watch create a glare that forces me to pay attention.

"Hmm?"

"Are you going downstairs?" he takes a sip of his beer.

"Yes, actually. I figure, why not enjoy the rest of the party? I'm having so much fun right now."

He senses my sarcasm and chuckles lightly.

"This is the second time I've seen you having so much fun," he mocks as we head downstairs.

"Right."

"The first time, I feel like I didn't make the best impression."

Does he… wait. Does he actually seem remorseful?

"Well," I sigh, "I truly wasn't going to say anything, but your biting wit and nonchalant nature don't make you the warmest person to be around."

He chuckles. "Rough week?"

"Bad excuse."

At this point, we're face to face at the foot of the stairs.

"You're my boss now, so I'm not sure if that was even—"

"Don't worry about it. And being called a boss makes me feel old," he laughs. "It makes me feel like my dad," he says lowly.

"Noted."

"Let's have a do-over. Clean slate," he settles. Like the movies.

"Hello, I'm Genevieve, but I like to be called Gen. I'm notoriously late—wait, shit, I shouldn't lead with that," I cover my mouth and laugh.

"Another do-over?" I propose.

He laughs in response.

"I'm only late to the things I don't care about."

"You were late on your first day…"

I freeze and just laugh uncontrollably. See, I wouldn't normally be so… comfortable with an important authority figure, but something about him lowers my inhibitions. I feel eerily relaxed.

"I'm hardworking, and I truly appreciate the opportunity to work with you in your corporate dungeon tower," I remark. I just can't help it.

He rolls his eyes. "How long have you been holding that one in?"

"A long time. Believe me."

I can't be serious for long enough.

"I didn't create that corporate dungeon. I just unfortunately have to oversee its operation," he says seriously.

"So, you despise all the island get-aways, ski trips, lake houses, and private schools that this life has given you?" I ask dubiously.

"I didn't say that."

Thought so.

"Would you give up everything that this life has given you for humble and genuine beginnings?"

He thinks for a second. "My mother would have wanted that," he smiles to himself. "She never would have approved of what the company is now. She started Marie's Soups."

"So?"

"Yes," he asserts, taking another swig of his drink.