Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11

The hum of fluorescent lights above and the faint rustle of papers form a monotonous soundtrack as I sit in my office, staring at the piles of reports and drafts cluttering my desk. It's a crisp autumn morning outside, but here, inside these four walls, it feels like I'm trapped in a perpetual state of gray. I'm surrounded by the artifacts of my job: schedules, client files, and endless notes, all the symbols of the world I've built for myself. Yet, today, this world feels like a cage rather than a refuge.

I rub my temples, trying to ward off the headache that's been creeping up on me all morning. My thoughts are jumbled, a tangled mess of personal conflicts and professional responsibilities. It's as if every piece of paper, every document, is a reminder of the mess I'm in—both at work and in my personal life.

"Lolo, do you have a minute?" My assistant, Mia, pokes her head into my office, her voice like a gentle nudge in my chaotic thoughts. Her eyes are filled with the kind of empathy that makes me want to break down and confess everything, but I just nod, forcing a tight smile.

"Sure, Mia. What's up?"

She steps in, closing the door behind her, and places a folder on my desk. "It's the quarterly report. I know you're swamped, so I went ahead and got a head start. But there are a few things that need your input."

I take the folder, barely registering its weight as I flip through the pages. My mind is elsewhere, caught up in the storm of emotions I've been wrestling with since the media spotlight landed on me and Brooks. My dad's disapproval, the media's relentless scrutiny, and my own turbulent feelings—it's all become overwhelming.

"Thanks, Mia," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll go through this and get back to you."

She gives me a sympathetic look, her gaze lingering for a moment before she turns and exits the office. I sit there, staring at the report, but my focus drifts back to the conversation Brooks and I had the other night. The way his eyes had held mine, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability—it's like a lingering echo in my mind, refusing to be silenced.

I close the folder and lean back in my chair, my gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the city bustles with activity, a stark contrast to the stillness of my office. I can see the leaves falling from the trees, a reminder of the passage of time and how quickly things change.

I think about my dad's latest outburst—his frustration and anger boiling over. It's not just his disapproval of Brooks; it's the entire situation and the way it's affecting our lives. I understand his concerns, I do. But it feels like every time I try to address the problem, I'm just adding more fuel to the fire.

"Lolo, are you alright?" Mia's voice breaks through my reverie, and I look up to see her standing in the doorway again, her concern evident.

"Yeah, just... a lot on my mind," I admit, my voice cracking slightly. "It's been a rough week."

She nods, her eyes sympathetic. "If you need to talk or take a break, just let me know. We're all humans, after all."

"Thanks, Mia," I say, managing a small smile. "I appreciate it."

She leaves, and I'm left alone once more, the silence in the room amplifying my thoughts. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk, and try to focus on the report. The numbers and figures blur together, a reminder of the responsibilities that come with my job, the pressure to perform, and meet deadlines and expectations.

But as much as I try to concentrate, my thoughts keep drifting back to Brooks. The way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel—every interaction is like a spark in a dry field, igniting something deep inside me that I can't quite control.

It's not just about him; it's about us, our future, and how we fit into each other's lives. The tension between our professional responsibilities and our personal feelings is like a tightrope walk, and I'm afraid of falling. I'm scared of what might happen if we keep pushing against the boundaries, if we let ourselves get too close.

The sound of my phone ringing startles me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen and see Brooks' name. My heart skips a beat, and I hesitate for a moment before answering.

"Hey," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Hey," he replies, his voice warm and soothing. "I didn't mean to interrupt your work. I just wanted to check in, see how you're doing."

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath before responding. "It's been a day. A lot of work, a lot of stress. I'm trying to keep everything together, but it's hard."

"I get that," he says softly. "I've been dealing with my own share of media bullshit. It feels like we're constantly under a microscope."

"Yeah," I agree, the frustration clear in my voice. "And it's not just the media. It's my dad, too. He's... he's really upset about us."

Brooks sighs, a sound that carries a weight of its own. "I'm sorry, Lolo. I know this situation is tough, and I hate that it's causing so much stress for you."

"It's not just about me," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "It's about us, our relationship. I'm scared that everything might come crashing down."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost feel the weight of his thoughts, his concern. "I don't want to make things harder for you. I want to be here for you, but I also want to respect what you need."

"I need you," I say, my voice breaking. "But I also need to figure out how to balance everything. My job, my family, and us. It's all so tangled up."

"I understand," he says gently. "We'll find a way to make it work."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Thanks, Brooks. I appreciate you being here, even when things are so complicated."

"I'm always here for you," he replies, his voice steady and reassuring. "No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

As we end the call, I feel a small measure of relief, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. Talking to Brooks helps ground me, reminding me that I'm not alone in this. The path ahead is still unclear, but knowing that he's by my side gives me the strength to keep moving forward.

I glance at the clock, realizing that I've been lost in thought for longer than I intended. With a deep breath, I turn back to the report, trying to push aside the emotional turmoil and focus on the tasks at hand. It's a balancing act, and every step feels precarious, but I'm determined to keep going.

The day drags on, the tasks blending into one another, but each small victory—each completed report, each solved problem—feels like a step towards regaining some semblance of control. I can't change the past, and I can't predict the future, but I can manage what's in front of me, and that's what I cling to.

As the workday winds down, I find myself feeling a bit more grounded, a bit more focused. The pressure hasn't disappeared, but I'm starting to see a way through it. The conversations with Brooks have given me a renewed sense of hope, a reminder that we're not just fighting against the world, but fighting for each other.

With a final glance at the clock, I gather my things and prepare to head home. It's been a challenging day, but I'm ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that I have the support of the people who matter most.

As I walk out of the office and into the crisp evening air, I feel a sense of resolve settling in. The road ahead might be difficult, but with each step, I'm learning to navigate the balance between my professional responsibilities and my personal desires. And no matter what challenges lie ahead, I'm determined to face them head-on.