Chapter 2

"Ann, right? The new intern?"

Julian asked between slurping his noodles.

I silently pushed the veggies around in my bowl and nodded.

"My abs are worse than your dog's?"

My fork froze in midair. My gears spun at lightspeed.

In that single second, my brain operated faster than it ever had in my entire life.

"Honestly? Yeah."

Sometimes I really wish I could just staple my mouth shut. Those two words made the suit-wearing CEO across from me violently choke on his noodles, coughing his lungs out.

A chance for redemption!

Moving with blinding speed, I bolted to the counter, grabbed a bottle of cold juice, twisted the cap off thoughtfully, and handed it to him.

Julian chugged a huge gulp before finally catching his breath. Smacking his lips, he asked what it was, admitting it tasted pretty good.

Beaming with pride, I told him I’d just grabbed a chilled mango smoothie from the fridge.

"What kind of smoothie?"

Julian’s voice spiked an entire octave.

Startled, I stammered and repeated myself.

Suddenly, Julian abandoned all corporate composure and shoved his fingers down his throat, trying to gag himself.

It wasn't until his face broke out in violent red hives and blew up like a giant pumpkin that I realized—the guy had a severe mango allergy...

Terrified half to death, I forgot all about my dinner. I kept yelling at him to stay conscious while frantically dialing 911.

Only when the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance did I finally let out a breath.

What a day. Day one on the job, insulted the boss's physique, and then nearly assassinated him with a mango smoothie.

When I showed up at the office the next morning, word was already spreading that Julian was out for the day.

The bullpen was buzzing with gossip.

"Hey, Ann, do you know what happened?"

A coworker from the next desk leaned over with a bag of chips, her face full of juicy curiosity.

Julian was a notorious workaholic who was always the first person in the building. Him skipping work was practically an apocalyptic event, so everyone was dying to know why.

My lips twitched into an awkward grimace as I lied through my teeth, claiming I had no clue.

"Wait, wait! Everyone look! Mr. Hayes just posted on Ins!"

My stomach plummeted. I tapped on his profile, and there he was, lying flat on a hospital bed.

His face was still noticeably swollen, looking like a bruised balloon, wearing the tragic, pouty expression of an abandoned puppy.

The real kicker was his caption:

[Life advice: Never eat dinner with an intern. It's lethal.]

...Bro, could you make it any more obvious?

Instantly, every single pair of eyes in the office locked onto me. I wanted to cry. I was literally the only intern at the entire Vanguard headquarters.

I couldn't even find a scapegoat if my life depended on it.

I waved my hands frantically, desperate to spin an excuse, but the very next second, Julian materialized at the office doors, hammering the final nail into my coffin.

"Ann, you sure ran fast yesterday, leaving me to drag my own IV pole to the billing counter."

He stood in the middle of the floor, calling me out by name. Staring at his still-slightly-puffy face, I was caught in an agonizing tug-of-war between sheer terror and bursting into laughter.

By midday, racked with guilt, I decided the only way to make amends was to cook him a homemade lunch.

Using a bathroom break as cover, I snuck into the executive lounge kitchenette and rummaged through the fridge.

I found some short ribs and a couple of eggs. Pausing, I whipped out my phone to test the waters with Julian.

[Mr. Hayes, hypothetically speaking... if you accidentally eat an egg, will you drop dead?]

[?]

A question mark appeared in my SnapChat immediately.

I scratched my head. Did I phrase the allergy question too subtly?

Before I could clarify, another message popped up.

[Unless it's spiked with mango, no.]

Wow. Petty much?

My lips twitched. I didn't text back, just washed my hands and got to work on my peace-offering bento.