And boxes of chocolate.
Two months ago, I was in a relationship. Now I’m eating cold takeout on my bed at midnight, staring at my notes for a class I’m about to fail, and actively avoiding the dating app my roommate downloaded for me so I can browse.
Browsewhat, exactly? More disappointments named Brian? No, thank you.
The worst part isn’t even the breakup—it’s the way people hover. Girls in my building keep popping their heads into my room like I’m a wounded baby bird who needs to be nursed back to health with “girls’ nights” and nail polish.
I feel like Elle Woods fromLegally Blonde, when Warner first dumps her.
Being here is torture, and going home isn’t exactly high on my list right now, either.
Not because I don’t love my family; I do. But because Turner is currently living his best life and wants the world to know just how in love he is.
Gag.
To make matters worse, he’s already talking about proposing.
They’ve been together,what—a few months?
And he’s out here acting like he’s found the cure for loneliness. He hasn’t said it to me, but last weekend when I was home, I heard him on the phone with Mom (she puts everyone on speaker phone). Overheard enough to know my big brother is casually dropping words like RINGS and DESTINATION WEDDING.
It’s not that I’m anti-love. I’m just fresh out of it and fresh out of fucks to give.
But here’s the thing—I can’t sit in this funk all summer. I need a plan.
Elle Woods didn’t cry into a pint of ice cream forever; she got into Harvard Law School! I don’t exactly have law school ambitions, but maybe I need my own version of that moment. I want to prove that asshole wrong, and by asshole, I mean Blayke.
I need a job. Something that screams,I’m doing just fine without you, fuck you very much!
I could get an internship in the city.
I could intern for my brother’s hockey team, too? That would be easy, given my connections. But do I want him breathing down my damn neck every five seconds?
No.
What I need is a job that’ll put me directly in Blayke’s orbit. Somewhere I can purposely on accident look incredible every time he sees me in the hall. Somewhere I can make him think,Damn, I fucked up.
Not because I want him back.
Okay, maybe part of me wants him back. But also because I want him towantme back—and then I get to decide if he’s worth my time.
Blayke is spending the summer working for his uncle’soutdoor adventure company. Which is hilarious, because that jerk’s idea of “roughing it” is forgetting his phone charger. They do everything—zip-lining, rock climbing, whitewater rafting tours and he’s going to be their new golden boy in marketing.
Blah.
Grabbing my laptop, I pull up the company’s website. It’s got all the predictable outdoorsy stuff—photos of tanned, ridiculously happy people dangling from harnesses, grinning in helmets, paddling through foaming rapids. Climbing ropes courses.
Groups of people hiking.
Ew, hiking.
Still, I click my way to the Employment Tab.
Click, click. Click.
Guide trainee. Rope course assistant. Human Resources.
Wildlife educator.
