Like a Boss - Annabelle Costa Page 0,13

the paper towards me. “Maybe you could learn something for your next assignment.”

I wanted to punch him in his smug face. Instead, I yanked the paper out of his hand and skimmed the first few paragraphs. And just as I thought—it was awful.

Well, not completely awful. He wasn’t entirely illiterate. And he did make some good points about Raymond Carver. But it wasn’t better than mine.

“Too bad they didn’t teach you to write back in Jersey,” Luke said, still grinning at me.

I didn’t punch him, but I threw his essay back in his face. He blinked at me, surprised but still clearly very amused. “Too bad you didn’t keep those extra fingers. I bet you could pack more of a punch.”

I was so distracted by my rage that Luke took this opportunity to yank my own essay paper out from below my left hand. He raised his eyebrows at me when he saw the B. Even though I should have grabbed it back from him, I didn’t. I wanted him to read it and realize how much better it was than his own essay. That I was the one who deserved the A, not him.

“Wow…” Luke’s eyes darted quickly between paragraphs. After a moment, he lifted the first page and glanced at the second. “You’re certainly heavy-handed in your metaphors.”

I stared at him. That was exactly the same criticism Dr. Cole had made in her critique of my initial draft of the paper.

I snapped out of my trance and ripped my papers out of his hands. Luke still looked deeply amused, and I wanted to say something to wipe the smirk off his lips. I stuck my finger in his face, which surprised him, if nothing else.

“At least I got in here fair and square,” I said. “And not just because my father went here and gave the college a bunch of money.”

Luke looked like he had an answer to that, but before he could give it, I jumped out of my seat and marched right out of the classroom. I had the last word that day, but the truth is, I wasn’t sure if I believed what I said. I was beginning to realize Luke deserved to be there just as much as I did.

_____

Due to my long lunch, I end up staying late at work to get that report done for work. I’ve always been an overachiever, and now is not the time to be slacking—not just for me, but for the sake of my entire division. Luke probably wouldn’t fire me but I don’t want any of my team to get fired either. They’re counting on me.

I finally turn off my computer and gather my belongings to head out for the day, when I realize I’m not alone. Nathan is standing outside my office. He has sprouted small pit stains over the course of the day, and his comb-over looks damp as well. Nathan is one of those people who sweats excessively during the day.

“Hey, Ellie,” he says.

“Hello, Nathan,” I say, but I avoid his eyes. He’s never been my favorite person, but that remark Luke made about him saying his project was the best and should be saved, to hell with the rest of us… Well, it doesn’t entirely surprise me.

“Heading out?” he asks.

I don’t know why he’s asking me that. I’ve got my purse on my shoulder and I’m leaving my office. I’m obviously heading out. “Yes.”

“Um, Ellie?”

I look at him—he’s rubbing at the back of his sweaty neck. “Yes?”

“I was just thinking,” he says, “maybe we should get a few drinks together and talk about, like, our plan for the company. We need to work together if we don’t want to get fired.”

My stomach turns. I’ve got a bad feeling that his idea to get drinks is less about strategizing to keep our jobs, and more about him jamming his tongue down my throat when we’ve both got a few beers in us. I’m way too old to fall for that trick. “I’ve got plans,” I lie.

“Really?” Nathan raises his eyebrows at me.

Am I just the worst liar on the face of the planet? Or is it obvious I can’t possibly have a life outside of work? “Really.”

“Oh.” Nathan looks disappointed, and for a moment, I feel guilty. Then I remember what a jerk he is, and how he’s the last person in the world I’d want to go out with.

During my T ride home, I entertain myself by coming up with fake plans