Her co-conspirator nodded.
“Okay well, I’m aware that you’re both sixteen and that you’re great students. It’s your job to be. I’m also well aware that you don’t get into much trouble, but it’s because I don’t tolerate any. And I’m very glad that you’re part of the—” I took a deep breath and paused. “Junior Aviation Scholars Program and I recall buying you both new pilot outfits once you received those spots. However, seeing as though you don’t pay your own insurance for the car you drive now, are involved in the same exact activities, and aren’t trying to buy your own car with your own money, you can either enjoy the shared car or give it back to me. Your choice.”
Ashley rolled her eyes and sat down.
“What about letting one of us borrow your car on the weekends then?” Caroline scrolled through her phone. “Would that work? What if we came up with a car sharing schedule or something? I think there’s an app for—”
“No. Car conversation is over... Now, I need to speak with you both about something very important. I want you to know that I’m currently seeing someone—someone I think I really like. I’m not sure if I’ll ever let him meet you or not, but—”
“Is he hot?” “Where’d you meet him?” “Is that why you’ve been smiling so much lately?” “And going out so much?” “You don’t want him to meet us?” “Is it because he’s not hot?” “You’re dating someone ugly?” “Why would you do that?” “You’re so pretty!”
I sighed. “Please let me finish...I met him at work, and just so you’re aware, he’s a bit younger than me...”
They stopped stuffing their mouths with junk and exchanged puzzled looks. Then they both stared at me—like I was some type of art exhibit.
They did this routine quite often—so often that I didn’t think they realized how intense their joint stare-fest looked. Most of the time it meant that they were thinking about something, and since I was convinced that they shared a brain, it usually took them a while to formulate a verbal thought.
Caroline tilted her head to the side. “When you say younger, do you mean younger like, regular younger?”
“Or do you mean you could go to prison if we called the cops on you younger? “ Ashley raised her eyebrow. “Because if you want us to keep quiet we will, but you’re definitely going to have to re-consider getting us—”
“What! Why would you even—” I stopped. I didn’t need to stress myself out over their warped line of thinking. “He’s eleven years younger than me...”
They looked at each other and laughed hysterically. Then they started talking to one other as if I wasn’t sitting in the room: “So... He’s basically thirty!” “What’s so wrong with that?” “I don’t know...Isn’t thirty like middle aged? Or is that fifty?” “I think people should stop counting their birthdays after they turn twenty five. After that you’re pretty irrelevant and you just start looking bad and letting yourself go...” “Do you think the guy she’s dating is hot?” “Probably not. She didn’t say he was hot. If he was hot she would’ve said that first...” “Did she tell us his name?” “It’s probably Taylor. That’s a nice thirty year old name.” “Taylor? I like it. I wonder if—”
“Thank you both for listening...” I cut off their ridiculous conversation. “You two are okay with me dating someone?”
“Um yeah! It’s about time! You deserve someone amazing.” Ashley stood up and hugged me. “Whoever he is, I hope he can talk you into buying us separate cars for our senior year!”
Caroline walked over and hugged me too. “I agree. It’s good seeing you smile again—even if the guy isn’t hot...”
“So, the top four ideas for the sTablet slogan are—you know what? These are all terrible, aren’t they?” Mr. Barnes laughed.
“Yes. They really are.” I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Let’s just call it a night.”
“At nine o’ clock? Sure you don’t want to stay until midnight like yesterday? I’m starting to feel like corporate is my second home.”
“Positive.” I closed my folder and stood up. “I actually have plans for a change. I’ll see you on Monday.”
I walked out of his office and headed into mine, moving Jonathan’s latest flower arrangements to one side of the room.
I’d given up on asking him to stop sending them. He sent at least two hundred blooms a day. He’d even hired a horticulture expert; she came in every day at noon to prune the old ones and water the new ones.
I took off my heels and changed into a pair of slippers, wishing that I could somehow fast forward to the end of the sTablet campaign. I was working double the hours, and while the new “necessary overtime for managers” policy had been quite beneficial for my savings account, it drained most of my body’s energy.
I put my head down on the desk and my phone rang. Ashley.