The Last Word, page 10
“You’ll get one,” he said confidently, beaming at me. “If anyone can, you can. This will be such a great opportunity to meet clients. And I get to be your arm candy. Win-win!”
I laughed. “Speaking of being my arm candy, are you excited to meet everyone at Mimi’s birthday? It’s next weekend.”
“Oh, right,” he nodded, looking pensive. “Mimi’s birthday party.”
“Don’t worry, I know I’ve made a big deal out of these games, but they’re really just silly ones. It doesn’t matter if you’re not very good at them.”
Liam grimaced. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it anymore.”
“What? Really?”
“I have so much work to do. I really need to focus on expanding the business at the moment. It’s all very exciting, but it means that my weekends are taken up with work unfortunately.”
“But … if you wanted to get to know my friends, then Mimi’s party is better than the charity ball.”
“I know it’s a shame, but I can meet them another time. There will be other weekends.”
I felt slightly taken aback but said, “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m sad you won’t be able to come.”
“Me too,” he said, perusing the menu. “Ooh—” he glanced up excitedly “—shall we get the arancini balls and buffalo mozzarella to start?”
I feel guilty that I didn’t message Mimi then to let her know that Liam could no longer come, rather than dropping it on her now in the office, but I had been putting it off. I don’t want her thinking that he’s not making an effort with my friends. I’m sure he will when he has the time.
Still, I can’t help but compare his lack of enthusiasm for Mimi’s birthday with his intense eagerness for networking at the charity ball. Liam’s ambition is what attracted me to him in the first place, but it does make me doubt his intentions a little. To be fair, it’s not like I’ve prioritized getting to know his friends, either.
I’m not sure that’s a good sign.
“I’m really sorry, Mimi, he did want to come and was hoping he’d be able to make it,” I tell her hurriedly. “But he’s got so much work on at the moment, and it’s taking over his weekends, too. I hope this hasn’t ruined the rounders teams. I feel awful.”
“Don’t feel bad,” she tells me, brightening. “This actually works out quite nicely.”
I look at her in surprise. “It does?”
“Obviously, I’m sorry that Liam can’t come,” she says, taking another bite of the carrot cake. “But I was going to invite Ryan, too, which would have made the teams uneven numbers, but now without Liam, they’ll be the same.”
“I … sorry?”
Before she can address my baffled reaction, she calls out Ryan’s name, stopping him in his tracks as he returns to his desk.
“I wanted to invite you to my birthday party this Saturday,” Mimi says cheerily.
He looks puzzled. “Really?”
“Yeah, course! If you’re free?”
“Yes, I am. Thanks,” he says, his forehead creasing as though he’s trying to work out why she would possibly want him to come. He glances at me suspiciously.
“Great! It’s going to be a day of fun games in the park, so get your competitive hat on and pray for sunshine.”
He allows himself a small smile. “I definitely have a competitive streak.”
“I thought you might,” Mimi comments. “I’ll message you the details, but it’s Brockwell Park around lunchtime.”
“Brockwell—is that the one near Brixton?”
She nods. “Where do you live?”
“Finsbury Park.”
“Literally the other end of London. Bit of a pain for you, then,” Mimi remarks with a sympathetic look. “Although, it’s straight down the Victoria Line, which is nice and speedy.”
“I’ll be there, thanks for the invite,” he assures her.
“So pleased you can make it! And feel free to bake something for the occasion. That cake was incredible.” She pauses, adding, “Oh and you’re very welcome to bring your other half, too … if you have one?”
He blushes, shaking his head. “Just me at the moment.”
“Oh good,” she says, brightening. “I didn’t want to be rude, but it would have ruined the even numbers of the teams if you’d brought a plus-one, to be honest.”
“Mimi,” I say calmly, as Ryan sits down next to me and starts typing away, “would you mind accompanying me to the bathroom?”
“Sure,” she says, dropping her napkin in the paper basket next to her desk. “Let’s go.”
Once we’re in the safe haven of the toilets, I round on her.
“Why did you invite him to your party?” I demand.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Harper. Why are you so against this guy? I know there are a few things you don’t see eye to eye on in the office, but I’ve got to know him a bit and I want to give him a chance. He’s obviously a guarded person, and I think his baking is his way of making an effort with the team. It’s quite sweet.”
“Sweet? Ha!”
“Look, my party is a good way to chat to him outside of the office—a nice relaxed, informal setting where you won’t need to squabble over who’s in charge of what,” she says, leaning against the sinks. “If you gave him a chance, you might like him.”
“I doubt it.”
She hesitates. “You know he talks to you more than he talks to anyone else in the office.”
“That’s because he argues with me all the time.”
“True,” she acknowledges, “but he also seems different around you. When you’re in the conversation, he’s less reserved. You bring him out of his shell.”
“Mimi, what are you talking about? Him disagreeing with everything I say is not coming out of his shell!”
“I’m just saying that around everyone else he has a bit of a wall up, but he seems a lot more at ease around you. Like he forgets to be in his own head all the time. Sometimes I catch him looking at you. And, I don’t know, there’s something about the way he…”
“What?” I feel my cheeks growing hot as she scrutinizes my reaction. “Mimi, please do not make up ridiculous scenarios in your head. Ryan and I have nothing in common, and the only reason he may seem to talk to me more is because we both cover features in the magazine.”
“If you say so,” she sighs. “Just promise me you’ll play nice at my party. I’m the birthday girl, so you can’t say no.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Thank you, and don’t worry,” she says with a grin, “I’ll make sure you’re on opposite teams.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sun is shining on the day of Mimi’s birthday party.
It’s an easy walk from my flat to the park, so I have all morning to get ready, which I’m grateful for because I have no idea what to wear.
And it’s not because Ryan’s going.
Okay, fine. It’s because Ryan’s going.
It’s not that I want to look nice for him. It’s more that I need to feel confident, and it’s also very important I look like a winner. Because there is no way in hell that I am letting Ryan Jansson’s team beat mine. I wouldn’t be able to stand that stupid little smile of his that he saves for when he gets one up on me.
The other day in the office, the art team put up two potential cover designs on the wall and asked for our thoughts because Cosmo couldn’t decide which was more striking.
“The orange,” I said instantly, tapping the printout with my finger. “It’s bold and eye-catching. Plus, it looks really good with the white and pink cover lines.”
“The blue,” Ryan countered, stroking his chin and nodding to the other one. “It’s softer, warmer. More inviting.”
I glared at him.
“Mimi, what do you think?” I asked, lifting my chin as she examined the two.
“I think—” she paused, her eyes darting between the two covers and then anxiously between me and Ryan “—the blue. It works better. Sorry,” she added for my benefit.
The smug smile on Ryan’s face.
It made my blood boil.
I swear he looked so pleased with himself for the rest of the day. At one point he started humming.
“I’m not allowed to hum?” he questioned when I told him off.
“People are trying to concentrate,” I snapped back.
“Mimi was just talking about that song, and I literally hummed the chorus for about five seconds.”
“Yes, well, it was five seconds too long,” I said, scowling at him. “Would you like it if I casually started singing while you were trying to write an important journalistic piece?”
He glanced at my screen. “You’re Googling bald eagles.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t look like you’re in the middle of writing an important journalistic piece.”
“I’m still trying to concentrate.”
He frowned in confusion. “While looking at pictures of bald eagles?”
“Yes!”
He raised his eyebrows. By now, a few colleagues had swiveled slightly to listen. I’ve noticed it becoming a theme—whenever Ryan and I start bickering over something, the rest of the office becomes eerily silent.
“Are you looking at pictures of bald eagles for a piece you’re writing?” he asked breezily. “Are you interviewing … a celebrity bald eagle?”
Mimi sniggered. I glared at her. She quickly pretended to focus on her screen.
“It’s none of your business why I’m Googling bald eagles,” I pointed out.
“Then it’s none of your business that I’m humming.”
“It is my business when it affects me, which your humming does.”
“You Googling bald eagles on office time when it’s not work related could be affecting me. If you’re wasting time and falling behind, then I’ll be the one to pick up the slack.”
Ugh.
I’d been listening to a comedy podcast on the way into work that morning and one of the hosts had mentioned bald eagles, which made me wonder if they were actually bald? I couldn’t Google it because I was on the tube with no signal, and I’d just now remembered to look it up.
But I could hardly explain that to him, could I?
“You know that’s a ridiculous argument,” I hissed at him.
“Harper, I think this isn’t about bald eagles or my humming. I think you’re annoyed that everyone agreed with my opinion on the blue cover over the orange cover.”
“Please!” I guffawed. “This is not about that.”
“So you don’t care that I was right?”
“You weren’t right. It was a subjective opinion.” I shifted in my seat. “It just so happens that in the end, the art desk and the editor decided to go with the one you personally preferred.”
He nodded. “So, I was right.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he insisted.
“No, you…” I exhaled, trying to stay calm. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
“That I was right?”
“That we had differing opinions,” I clarified. “And I was telling you to stop humming because it’s distracting, not because I was annoyed the blue cover was decided on.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Good, then. Humming is banned.”
We fell into silence and didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day.
It’s very clear that I cannot let Ryan win today, because if he does, he will lord it over me forever. A winning outfit is key to the operation: it needs to be sporty enough for me to move in for the competitive activities, but it can’t be gym gear because it’s Mimi’s birthday and I need to make an effort.
I’m actually quite glad Liam isn’t here, because I need to practically empty my entire wardrobe onto the bed and bedroom floor to see what my options are. I’m surprised to come across clothes that I’d forgotten I owned, including high-waisted gray denim shorts that I had bought last summer on a whim after watching a slew of Taylor Swift music videos.
I slip those on and then start rooting around for a clean T-shirt. Once I’ve found one, pulled it over my head, and tucked it into my shorts, I start working out what to wear if it gets cold and land on a roll-sleeved blazer jacket. After putting some effort into my makeup (but trying to make it look as though I’ve spent hardly any time at all), I rummage through my bedside table looking for my new sunglasses. They’re an essential accessory for the outfit.
I tear the flat apart, getting angrier and less merciful with my belongings as I go, chucking items over my shoulder out of drawers as I search for them.
My bedroom looks like it’s been hit by a tornado, and I groan as I realize I’m going to be late. And then I perk up when I remember that I wore those sunglasses earlier this week! They’re in one of the cases in my bag!
I slide them up my nose happily and head out of the flat in a rush, returning once for my phone, which is still in my bedroom playing a summer day playlist, and a second time for Mimi’s present, a pretty gold bracelet that I left in its box on the kitchen counter.
After stopping briefly on the way to buy a couple of bottles, I make my way through Brockwell Park, spotting from a mile off the long outdoor table with pink, white, and silver balloons tied all along the side and picnic food platters and bottle coolers laid out on the top. Mimi picks the same spot every year for her birthday, right beneath one of the huge old oak trees in the park, so the food table is safely in the shade.
I smile as I stroll past the clusters of people sitting cross-legged in circles laughing and chatting as they swig from cans of cider. When the sun is shining, the whole mood of London is lifted.
I spot Rakhee chatting to one of Mimi’s school friends. She sees me approaching and her expression brightens.
“Have I missed you!” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Please tell me you hate your new magazine and you’re going to come crawling back to us.”
“I’m afraid not.” She laughs. “I’m sort of loving the new job. But I’m glad to see that nothing has changed and you’re still rocking up late to everything.”
“Blame that on my sunglasses. I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
“Let me guess, they were in your bag the whole time?”
“You see? This is why I need you to come back to Narrative and look after me!”
She chuckles. “How is it working with Ryan?”
“Don’t ask her opinion on Ryan,” Mimi butts in, appearing next to me and giving me a hug. “She’ll tell you how much she doesn’t want to speak about him before speaking about him a lot.”
“Oi!” I nudge her in the ribs. “I can’t get mad at you because it’s your birthday. Everything looks amazing, of course. The food looks delicious. Is it all homemade? Maybe I should have baked something.”
“A very sweet thought, but we all know you and baking don’t mix, Harper. Besides, everything you see was provided by my dear friend Marks & Spencer,” Mimi tells us, hitching up her white high-waisted trousers that she’s wearing with a bright orange top.
I wouldn’t dream of wearing white trousers to a day at the park where I know I’ll be playing games and lounging around on the grass, but of course Mimi wouldn’t blink before throwing them on. She’s the kind of person who always looks neat as a pin—like she’s just arrived from sitting front row of Victoria Beckham’s latest show, but she’s ready to kick off her shoes and play rounders.
“When do the games start?” Rakhee asks.
“Soon,” Mimi promises. “You two are on the same team. I’m on the other team, but don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to let me win just because I’m the birthday girl. I’ll beat you fair and square.”
“Oh, here we go,” I say with a grin. “The rivalry begins now, does it?”
“Never too early to rile the spirits with a bit of healthy competition,” Mimi declares. She glances over my shoulder and smiles. “Speaking of competition, Ryan is here.”
I look round and see him sauntering over.
“Remember to play nice, Harper,” Mimi says sternly.
“You were just talking about healthy competition.”
“Healthy being the optimum word,” she insists. “Everything has to be aboveboard. I don’t want to have to break you two up after you attack each other with bats.”
“If that scenario did happen, I would so win. You can tell he has a weak swing.”
“Hey,” Ryan says as he approaches, carrying a bag that clinks loudly. “Happy birthday, Mimi. I wasn’t sure what drinks you’d like, so I brought a selection.” In his other hand, he holds out a Tupperware. “And I made some millionaire’s shortbread. I think I remember you saying you liked it.”
“I love it! Thank you so much, that’s so lovely of you.” She gratefully takes the Tupperware and peers inside. “These look amazing.”
“I hope they taste good.”
“Knowing your baking talent, I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
“Oh, I brought some ice, too. I thought that might be helpful,” he says, pulling out a bag of ice cubes. “Do you have a cooler box or anything?”
“I have three!” Mimi cries excitedly, while Rakhee and I hide our smiles at how happy she is to show off her organizational skills. “No one ever remembers to bring ice. I’m impressed.”
“It’s nice to see you again,” Rakhee begins, offering him a wave as Mimi totters off with the bag of ice. “Mimi’s been telling me about your baking—you’ve definitely one-upped me by bringing that angle to the job.”
He blushes. “I bribe people to like me through cake.”
Rakhee chuckles. “So, how are you finding the office? Everyone keeping you on your toes?”
“Some more than others,” he remarks, his eyes flicking to me.
“I’m sure you’re well able to rise to the challenge,” she comments, giving me a sly smile as I pretend to ignore the conversation.
“What about you?” he asks her. “How’s your new role?”
As Rakhee fills him in on Sleek, I take in Ryan’s appearance. He looks annoyingly good, wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt underneath an unbuttoned khaki shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He really suits those Ray-Bans, too. His head angles toward me slightly as Rakhee is talking, as though he can tell I’m studying him, and I quickly drop my eyes to the ground.
