He rolls his eyes instantly, but, on this occasion, I’m standing by my request. I’m not putting my future on the line over a sentence and some vibes, and if he were smart, he wouldn’t either.
He curls his tongue in his mouth as he looks to the top of the tent, contemplating a stronger set of rules. His jaw tenses every second that he stays in deep thought, bringing with it the kind of definition that could cut like a knife.
‘Six months of saying yes to everything– every spontaneous night out, every random invite. No thinking, no debating– just a cold, hard yes. Do that for six months and the job is yours.’
‘I can’t say no toanything? Seems a tad problematic,’ I say.
‘Within reason,’ he adds, rolling his eyes again. ‘There’s obviously an implied element of consent. I’m asking you to live a little, not sell your soul.’
‘For six months?’
‘We end at the Summer Splash, just before the job is allocated.’
My eyes flit to the floor– focus in on the grass beneath us, desperate to look at anything but Aiden’s face. I need logic, I need reason, I need all the things that seem impossible whenever I am too close to him.
Think, Maddison.
I could say no to this– stick with Aiden through the Splash and then resign myself to a life of working by his side. Go from one miserable job to another, all in the name of ‘safety’ and ‘security’.
Or I could take a risk.
I could say yes and prove him wrong and walk away with the prize. The sole leader of the new Evielution events department. That’s the kind of thing that would kill with my parents and my annual LinkedIn post. And, most importantly, it’s the one thing that I could definitely tick off my five-year plan before thirty.
I have always been pretty smart with my choices. I’ve always planned my path and made the necessary steps, and it all seemed worth it until I got to Abbingtorn. Iknowyou have to work your way up the ladder and Iknowthat good things take time. However, after four years in the same entry-level position, I have really got to start questioning whether the careful path really is the smartest option.
‘OK, six months.’ I watch his face light up. ‘But you want that job? You’ve got to prove something for it too.’
‘Go on,’ he says, motioning to give me the floor.
‘You’ve got six months to plan everything you do. I want calendar entries, tick-lists, even a five-year plan. I’ll be inspecting your notes at the end of the period.’
He scoffs. ‘You’re setting me homework?’
‘I’m teaching you basic adult skills. Trust me, you’ll realise you’re better off.’
‘I doubt it. But, yeah, sure, I’ll give it a go. Now give me your phone.’ He holds out his hand.
‘My personal one?’ I ask, taken aback.
‘Yeah. With so much on the line I’ll need proof, and I’d rather not have it by email.’
I roll my eyes at his stupid smirk, but hand over my phone nonetheless. My spine tenses ever so slightly as he takes it in his hand, calmly tapping his number into my contacts.
‘Why so scared? You think I’m gonna read all your hate messages?’ He’s clutching my life in his palm like it’s nothing.
‘Hate messages?’ I say, poker face in tow.
‘I imagine I’m a hot topic in your group chats.’ He shrugs.
‘Bold of you to assume that you’re that important.’
He looks fondly at me as I snatch my phone back from his outreached hand. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he enjoys the animosity that he brings out of me.
‘I want pics and vids every time you do something reckless. For something to count it needs to be caught in 4K,’ he says.
‘Every single thing?’
‘Let’s be real, there won’t be that many,’ he says tauntingly.
