Disloyalty

- Building or Destroying-

It was team-building day—an event I never imagined a company like ours would bother with. Yet here I was, standing in the middle of a massive event room packed with hundreds of employees. The whole thing felt forced, an attempt to foster camaraderie that no one really asked for. And, of course, somewhere in the sea of faces was Andrew.

After yesterday's awkward encounter with James and the tension-filled moments with Andrew, I wasn't sure what to expect from today. My only plan was to avoid Andrew as much as humanly possible, hoping that by Monday, the strange tension between us would have fizzled out on its own. At least, that was the hope.

I stood in a corner with Holly and James, trying to blend into the wallpaper. Across the room, Andrew was the center of attention, commanding the space with his usual effortless authority. He was deep in conversation with some other executives, looking perfectly at ease as if this corporate circus was something he thrived on. 

There was something about the way he carried himself—so poised, so intense, like he was the most important person in the room. And, of course, he probably was.

"Hey," James's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized I'd been staring at Andrew, lost in some strange mix of curiosity and frustration.

"Can we talk about yesterday?" James asked, his voice low and uncertain. I'd completely forgotten that I still owed him an explanation after the whole cupboard debacle.

"Uh," I stammered, trying to dodge the question. "How about over coffee sometime? I don't think now's the best time." I glanced around the room, searching for any excuse to avoid the conversation. "Pretty sure the activities are about to start."

As if on cue, a woman with a microphone stepped up to announce our group assignments. Saved by the bell.

I couldn't care less about these so-called "team-building" exercises, but it wasn't like I had a choice. As the assignments were rattled off, I scanned the room, secretly curious to see which team Andrew would end up on. My eyes found him near the wall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings like a hawk. He didn't look like he was planning on participating at all—more like he was waiting to oversee everyone's efforts, judging from afar.

Eventually, someone came over to our little group and told us to pair up. The three of us—me, Holly, and James—shared a nervous look. There was an odd number, which meant one of us would be stuck partnering with a random person. But as we glanced around, everyone else had already paired off.

We approached the clipboard woman for clarification. "There's an even number of participants," she said, sounding confused. "I'm not sure why you three don't have a pair." She scanned the room, and my stomach sank when her eyes landed on Andrew, the only one sitting alone.

Oh no.

I quickly skimmed the clipboard in her hands, and sure enough, there it was in bold print: Andrew Graham.

I let out a quiet sigh, my plan to avoid him crumbling before my eyes.

The clipboard woman seemed to realize her mistake at the same moment. Her face paled, as if she'd just made a critical error that could cost her everything. Was Andrew really that intimidating?

"Mr. Graham, I—I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice shaking. "Your name wasn't supposed to be here. After last year, we didn't expect you to—"

"There's no need to apologize," Andrew cut her off smoothly, his voice low but commanding. His eyes slid over to me, and I felt a tightening in my stomach. "This year, I feel like participating."

I glanced at Holly, whose face had gone ghostly white. She leaned in and whispered, "He never participates. Like, ever."

Great. Of course, Andrew wasn't joining in because he suddenly cared about team spirit. No, he was here for something else—probably to see if he could break me.

"So, who's my partner?" Andrew's voice carried an undercurrent of challenge as he looked between the three of us.

James went visibly pale, clearly dreading the thought of being paired with him. Holly and I exchanged glances, each silently communicating that it wasn't going to be James. No way.

Andrew's eyes swept over us before settling on Holly. "You," he said smoothly, his gaze locking onto her. "Holly, right?"

She swallowed hard, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. "Yes, sir."

James and I shot her apologetic looks as she reluctantly nodded, clearly not thrilled but knowing she had no way out. Andrew had made his choice.

The woman explained the task: we had twenty minutes to build the highest, strongest tower using only spaghetti and marshmallows. A children's camp activity masquerading as a corporate challenge, but still, there were ten teams. Nine to beat.

James and I moved to our table, ready to start. Right next to us, Andrew and Holly stood at theirs. Holly looked uncomfortable, while Andrew seemed hyper-focused on the task at hand, ignoring her entirely.

My focus should've been on the marshmallows and spaghetti, but instead, my eyes kept drifting to Andrew. And I wasn't alone. At one point, Holly looked like she was about to pass out from nerves as Andrew shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

I stared without meaning to. His forearms were strong, muscular, and every movement was deliberate and smooth. His intensity drew me in, despite myself. The room felt warmer, my pulse quickening for reasons I didn't want to admit.

I snapped out of it just as the countdown began.

"Three... two... one... START!"

James and I worked quickly, focusing on building a strong base. My mind raced, trying to shake off the way Andrew had distracted me. But I couldn't help it—every few minutes, I'd glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on me.

 Each look was like a threat,  saying "im going to win".

I wasn't about to let that happen.

Twelve minutes in, our tower was steady, if not the tallest. Andrew and Holly's structure was slightly higher but looked unstable. It wasn't hard to notice that Andrew was doing all the work while Holly stood back, barely contributing.

Our eyes met again, and this time, the intensity in Andrew's gaze was unmistakable. He wasn't just playing to win. He was playing to beat me.

Five minutes left. The tension in the room was thick. Only four teams remained, and Andrew and I were locked in our silent duel, our towers neck and neck. Every movement I made felt like it mattered. Each glance he threw my way sent a surge of adrenaline through me.

With one minute left, James and I were focused, steady. Andrew, however, was moving too quickly, his frustration clearly mounting. His hands slipped, knocking into his own structure—and in an instant, his tower collapsed in a chaotic heap of spaghetti and marshmallows.

I couldn't hold it in—I laughed, the sound spilling out of me as James and I high-fived in victory. I glanced over at Andrew, whose face was dark with rage, his eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury.

Without thinking, I shot him a subtle middle finger, relishing the triumph.

Andrew's jaw clenched. He grabbed his jacket without a word and stormed out of the room.

And all I could feel was the sweet, undeniable taste of victory.