Spin

Eighteen

[RORY]

The raindrops tickling my bare arms felt like a very fitting metaphor, representing the tears I wouldn't allow to fall. Frankly, I wasn't even in the mood to cry — rather, I felt the urge to launch my work-provided laptop off the side of the building.

I heard shoes scuffing against the gravel behind me but didn't bother turning around, already knowing.

"I thought I might find you up here."

"Here I am," I spoke monotonously, staring at the gloomy skyline ahead. "Just enjoying the beautiful weather."

"You're a native, I'm surprised you aren't melting."

"Funny."

"Want to know what else is funny? You thinking you deserved that assignment."

"I'm not in the mood for your reverse psychology bullshit. I'm really pissed off."

"Forgive me, I forgot the tiny violin down at my desk. Should I go back and grab it, or?"

I knew what Christopher was trying to do, giving in and glancing over. He narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for me to bite as he casually rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"Sympathy and mockery are not mutually exclusive."

"You really think you ought to have gotten it? Tara has been working her ass off."

"I'm not doing this with you."

"It's a sincere question."

"Then you're a sincere asshole," I spoke under my breath. "Lecture me another day, professor."

"Not a lecture. I've opened the floor," he sighed as he spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Patiently waiting."

"Enjoy that wait then, you may want to grab a chair. I don't need to prove myself to you."

"You sound awfully defensive."

"I'm not, you're just being annoying." I forced out a laugh. The rain was picking up, pelting the top of my head as I rubbed over my arms to try and warm up. "Tara has been here a month and is friends with Marisol's niece, by the way. I'm sure that had nothing to do with it, though."

He shrugged.

"Some would say a fresh college graduate would only land a job at the most established music publication in the world because their dad is one of the most recognizable rockstars in the world."

"Right."

"I'm just saying. A bit pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

"What are you getting at?" I snapped. He stared at me unfazed, mindlessly chewing on his thumbnail. "Are you having fun?"

"Not really. You're infuriatingly obstinate and wasted potential pisses me off more than most things."

"How the fuck am I wasting my potential? Working here? Then yeah, you're right."

"You've gotten lazy."

"Preserving one's efforts because they consistently go to waste is not the same as being lazy."

He laughed, startling me. "You're far too new to this to be that entitled."

"That's not entitlement, that's knowing my worth."

"Respectfully, your last piece on San Francisco's underground grunge movement was utter shit."

I'd hit my breaking point, turning on my heel before he'd even had a chance to finish the line. Clearly, he'd predicted my hasty exit, grabbing my arm before I had a chance to make any headway.