Office Romance & Branding Chaos Unfold-PART 3

There was a new calendar invite while Ava was typing "gentle glow serum – taglines" into her brainstorm doc.

Sebastian Fairfax has invited to you:

Creative Lead Briefing – Brand Alignment session

Location: Conference Room C

Attendees: You

Time: 3:00–3:30 p.m.

No explanation. Just that.

Ava looked at her screen, and it seemed like it was looking back at her as if it had betrayed her personally.

"She muttered. Why does he want brand alignment with me?" "I'm scarcely aligned with my laundry.

She walked in at 3:04—on purpose. Let him think she was not put out.

He was there, as he was, typing something aggressively on his laptop. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled just right. It was deeply inconsiderate.

"Ms. Morgan," he said without lifting his eyes.

She answered in her most professional tone, "Mr. Fairfax" (Eliot, p.23). "Are we aligning today?"

That got a glance. And just one of such keen, mocking flashes. Then: "I need to learn what you think of the youth campaign."

"Because...?"

"You wrote the first brief. It was incoherent but passionate."

"Thank you?"

He slid a printed copy over the table. She flinched at her misspellings.

"You have unpredictable energy," he said. "You break the rules, fail to meet formatting rules, and, in the past, you also submitted an expense claim named 'emotional reparation donuts.'"

"I stand by that."

"And yet," he said, "people listen to you."

Ava blinked. That wasn't an insult. Not quite.

Sebastian leaned on his chair back. "What about a brand makes you trust it?"

She blinked again. "What?"

"You're a consumer. Why would you buy from us if you're not working here?"

" I wouldn't," she said and immediately repented.

His brow arched. "Go on."

"Because we say a lot of buzzwords but not much truth," she added, emboldened. "We're afraid to sound human. Real people are messy. Honest. Irreverent. Nobody gets up and says, "I crave empowered wellness." They get up, saying, "God, I look tired."

Sebastian was silent for one too many beats.

Then: "Interesting."

Ava didn't know whether she'd passed a test or failed one.

He closed his laptop. "That's all. Thank you."

Just like that.

As she stepped out, shocked, she encountered Clara down the hall.

"You survived," Clara said. "Congratulations. Would you like to join us today?

"Us?"

"The girls. And Noah. We're going to this roof top bar – IDC in their skincare collab won 'em free tickets. There'll be neon cocktails."

Ava hesitated.

"You'll be there," Clara appended, "or I'll ship you back to another yoga shoot."

That sealed it.

⋆｡°✩

The rooftop bar had both aggressively trendy and physically dangerous tendencies – Ava almost toppled off a succulent wall in an attempt to click a group selfie. But the gin fizz was a treat, and Clara had already had truffle fries.

At one point, Noah slid into the seat next to her. He smiled cheekily and had the cheekbones of a Disney prince. She spilled her drink right away.

"I'm trying to decide," he said, balancing her glass again, "whether you're naturally clumsy or whether it's flustered that makes you around men who are devastatingly handsome."

Ava snorted. "Option C: these heels are a crime of the war."

He laughed completely and efficiently. "You're fun."

"You've met me twice."

"That's enough," he reclined, saying. -Furthermore, Clara says that you're chaotic in a good way.

Ava pretended to sulk over her drink lest she talk. Sebastian, she saw from the corner of her eye.

Standing near the bar. Talking to Nadine.

Not looking at her.

Not that she cared.

Noah bumped her shoulder. "Do you always overthink mid-flirt?"

"I wasn't flirting."

"You're blinking too fast. It's adorable."

She rolled her eyes and didn't try to move away.

He was charming. Warm. Safe.

Why did her stomach twist when she saw Sebastian look around?

On the ride home by cab, she texted Lucy.

AVA: Went to the rooftop bar. Vibes = flirty chaos.

LUCY: With who??

AVA: Clara, Noah, and 40,000 succulents.

LUCY: Give me details. Was there banter??

AVA: Noah thinks I'm fun. He could be some gold retriever.

LUCY: That's a YES. Is he your Mr. Bingley?

AVA: Maybe. But Sebastian was there too. It's looking extremely... annoying.

LUCY: Oh no.

AVA: What.

LUCY: You're doomed.

AVA: Why??

LUCY: If the golden retriever flirts and in the corner, what you see is the emotionally constipated boss… That's not a good sign.

AVA: Delete this conversation.

⋆｡°✩

The day after, the office hummed with that kind of panic only the last minute before a client's review could be created. PowerPoint decks were flying. Coffee was inhaled.

Sebastian was sitting beside Ava's desk, who was busy editing campaign copy.

"We're redoing Slide 12," he said. "Clara said your version had a better tone."

"Oh," she said. "When you said a bedtime story for your skin' calling what we had?

"It's unsettling but effective."

She smiled. He did not. But there were signs of something.

They bent over the screen together. Too close.

Ava was painfully conscious of what was probably smelly with dry shampoo and Maplet oat lattes in her hair. Sebastian, himself, carried the scent of cedar and budget approvals.

His hand moved across hers on the keyboard.

Ava did not breathe.

He didn't move away.

Then Clara arrived with a croissant in hand like a small peace treaty.

"Quick break," she said to Ava.

Ava fled again.

In the kitchen, Clara passed her the pastry and said, "You know he's interested in you, don't you?"

Ava choked on flaky layers.

"No, he's not."

"Oh, sweetie," Clara said soothingly, "he's got the face of a man trying desperately not to feel things. It's practically romantic Morse code."

Ava scrutinized the croissant as if it could give her directions.

⋆｡°✩

By Friday, Ava was unwinding completely.

She applied lipstick to the office. She denied it.

She edited and resent the same Slack message to Sebastian six times until she sent the following: "Re: tagline for slide 12 – can we talk tone options?"

He replied: Yes. My office. Now.

She marched, pretending to remain unbothered.

He shut the door after her. She forgot all the English words as soon as they were put into her mouth.

He stood, his hands in his pocket, observing her as if she were a puzzle he only wanted to figure out.

"You're avoiding me," he said.

"No, I'm not."

"You slunk away from the strategy call."

"I had to... edit a spreadsheet. "

"You spelled 'hydrating' wrong in the new tagline."

"That was intentional. For irony."

"It wasn't."

Silence.

Then, softly: "There is no need for me to be worried around you."

"I am not nervous", she said quickly.

More silence.

"I'm not," she said too loudly.

He stepped closer. "Fine. You're not nervous. But you are deflecting."

"Am not."

"You're doing it again."

"Oh my God," she said. "Do you actually try this smug in the mirror, or is it just natural talent?"

His smile wavered – faint – but it was there.

Then: "You fascinate me, Ava Morgan."

Oh.

That wasn't fair.

She stared at him.

"Why?" she said, almost a whisper.

But at that moment, his phone buzzed.

He checked it.

"We'll finish this later," he said and walked away.

She didn't move.

Neither did her pulse.

⋆｡°✩

That night, she received another text from Noah.

NOAH: Big plans today, or would you be available for cheap wine and pathetic Netflix?

She stared at the screen.

She could say yes. I could get cozy socks on and snuggle on a couch and never wonder about bosses, those with unreadable faces.

Or she could turn it down. Or admit that the person she wanted to see made her unsteady and worst-best.

She typed:

AVA: Wine sounds perfect. Bring snacks.

It wasn't an answer. Not really.

But it would do—for now.