Anything I Can Get

I'm listening.

I swear I am listening to what Anastasia is saying as she walks from one side to the other in front of me in the conference room, explaining... something. But it's too early and her voice is too soft, so it's not sticking into my brain.

This is also only my second day working. Ever. Half of the words she's throwing at me are completely new in my vocabulary.

"And that," she says, pointing at the projection behind her, "Is the difference between brand awareness and brand positioning. Does that make sense?"

Not even a little. But she looks hopeful, and she obviously worked on this whole presentation (with mostly images) only for me, to help me understand this shit better, so I nod.

"Yeah. Totally," I lie. She blinks once, like she knows I'm full of shit but is too nice to say it.

"If something confuses you, you can ask. Really,” she pushes me, so I do ask.

"Okay, so, in short. Awareness is...?"

"What people know about the brand."

"And positioning is...?"

"How they feel about the brand."

"Right!” I snap my fingers, “Got it for real this time."

My boss laughs and I relax because I guess she finds me amusing instead of completely stupid. Thank god for that.

Today Anastasia got her hair in a loose bun and she’s wearing a damn puffer jacket over a hoodie.

We’re in August, by the way. Summer.

Yes, it was raining in the morning and the day got chillier than usual, but still. She could at least take the damn puffer jacket off.

I don’t know why it irks me, but it does. I think this girl is either hiding a gross disfigurement or she has very bad anemia.

But whatever it is… she is really, really nice, which makes me feel guilty about how much we talked about her yesterday. And about the team implying she’s ugly.

Anastasia Blomqvist is NOT ugly at all. She’s definitely cute, if you’re into younger-looking girls who dress like they’re tired of life.

I’m not, but someone might be.

"I think that's enough for today," she says and comes to sit on the chair next to me. I guess she wants to talk, "How did you feel yesterday? Too lost?"

"No, it was great. My team is helping me adjust," I tell her, "Although, they spent more time gossiping than talking about the actual job."

"That’s okay. We don't have much going on at the moment anyway," she shrugs, "We just finished a huge campaign before you arrived. And we're about to shoot another one, but everything is set already. You caught us at a very chill moment.”

"What’s the new one about?"

I listen to her talk about skincare and her sisters for about ten minutes, just nodding along and trying not to fall asleep.

{ Anastasia }

It's been one full week since Bram Kent started working at Bloom Beauty and I've developed a very serious problem. I can't stop thinking about him.

Every time I hear his voice outside my office, my stomach does a backflip. And I'm starting to swoon over him doing the most basic of shit.

When he holds doors open for people. Or when he smiles extra politely. Or when he asks questions during team meetings only to show me he's paying attention.

So then I go home and I look at videos of him online and I... I just watch him. Obsessively.

Apparently, he wasn't just a good player, he was beloved by the whole city for his personality, too.

There's a lot of videos of people who went to those games solely to see him, yell stuff at him trying to get noticed or throw random stuff at him over the ice. They loved to see how he’d randomly start doing some fancy figure-skating tricks just for a laugh, like twirling around with one leg up, or maybe to witness his short-fuse in person, how quickly he’d turn aggressive on the ice.

That's something almost unbelievable I learned by watching those videos. Bram can be extremely aggressive and brazen, slamming other players into the crystal walls hard as hell, pushing them around, throwing them to the ground and taking his gloves to actually punch some people. And the audience would cheer every damn time.

But in the office, Bram is polite and friendly. He makes everyone laugh and he fits in like he's been here forever. Everyone loves him.

I love him.

No, not really, but it kind of feels like that after being obsessed with him for seven whole days. I even feel like I would go to one of those barbaric games just to watch him.

Fortunately, I don’t have to do that. I get to watch him every day right here.

Today, I've been in the office since seven AM, trying to finish the reports for my dad before my morning meetings. It's still quiet, which is how I like it.

But then the door to my office opens. And Bram walks in. White t-shirt. Slightly damp, messy hair. And he's holding a folder.

He didn't knock and I don't even care. Pretty-privilege.

"Morning, Stass," he says, stepping inside, holding a folder in his hands. Every day, he tries out different nicknames for me. I should tell him to just call me by my full name, but I'm really interested to see which nickname he'll finally settle for.

"Good morning, Bram," I reply, smiling politely. As if I didn't spend hours last night looking at videos and photos of him.

And the type of girls he likes, which is extremely not me. He hasn’t gone out with a curvier girl, not even remotely. They’re all tall, extra-skinny and gorgeous. I can’t blame him, it just stings.

“Nora said you needed a report for August. I worked on it all day yesterday, the team helped me... but I still took it home with me so I could make sure I didn't make any spelling mistakes," he says and extends the folder to me. My heart squeezes, "I’m not completely unable to read, it just takes me a long time to actually get it right. Still, I apologize if I messed something up. I probably did. I’m actually pretty sure I did.”

"Don’t worry about it," I grab the folder, feeling guilty about not specifying who should do this. I just never expected Nora to tell Bram, of all people. The new guy who's never done this before and who just arrived a week ago, "Nora doesn't know you're dyslexic. Next time she asks you to do something, just pass it along to Tyler. If he has a problem with that, he can come to me."

"Oh. Okay," Bram says and his body relaxes a bit as if he's relieved, "Thanks. Uhm... so, you're here early today."

"So are you."

"I’ve been here early every day. I go to the gym at five and it makes no sense to go back home once I'm done, so I just come here and take a nap or something," he explains, then just lingers there for a second, probably because I'm the only other person in the office and he’ll die if he’s not being perceived by someone for one minute, "Why are you never out with the rest of us?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're always holed up here while all of us are outside. You don't get lonely?" he asks, like he can't phantom the idea of someone not wanting to be part of a group.

"No. I like silence, helps me work better," I respond. He stays there and nods, "And I'm the boss. I don't have to goof around with the team."

"Well, if you don't mind my opinion," he says and gives himself permission to sit at the chair in front of my desk. Pretty-privilege, again. I would not let anyone else annoy me in the morning like this, "I think it's easier to navigate a group of people when you're... a part of the group. But you only talk to us during the meetings."

"Yeah, that's exactly what the meetings are for," I respond, laughing at his scrunched-up face, "I gather the teams separately to tell them everything I need to say all at once, then I give them tasks and review them at my own time. I don't need to be their friend, Bram, it's actually better if I'm not."

And I just don't fucking like them.

"Okay, sorry. I was just saying," he shrugs and gets up. I almost ask him to sit back down, but I keep my mouth shut while he leaves again.

Before I can cry about his departure, Nora bursts inside my office with two coffees and a wave of energy, talking about some drama happening in the finance department.

And when she leaves and doesn't close my door after her... I leave it like that.

Because now I have a far-away but direct view of Bram sprawled on his chair like the jock he is, laughing at something.

I don't close the door for the rest of the day.