The Last Thing She Wants (Chestnut Hills #1)

12

ellie

I am smart.

I am creative.

I am a kickass copywriter.

I created an online movement withSudsy sponges.

I can do this.

I chanted to myself as I walked down the hall to my boss’s office. Despite my recent success, recognition, and promotion, I still enjoyed giving myself pep-talks on my way to “big deal” conversations.

Thankfully, Charles mentioned this meeting to me in passing a few weeks ago. We were supposed to meet last Monday, the same day I cracked Theo’s head open, but it had to be pushed out to today because of a last-minute investors’ meeting. In hindsight, that was a blessing. With the stress of last Monday, the last thing I would have wanted would have been a new work assignment on top of it.

It was a new day, a new week, and I looked forward to focusing my attention somewhere else other than Theo. Especially after this weekend .

Once I had shown up to Wild Cider, I convinced myself to get over the little head gash snafu. I was looking forward to a fun night out with my friends. The last thing I ever expected was for Brian to use peer pressure to get me on stage. After, though, I was thankful he did. It was a thrill to sing live in front of a live audience, and I got to cross off another goal.

Take that smug smiling sun journal.

Being up there, nothing else mattered. With each word and note I sang, I felt my self-consciousness slip away. The confidence I thought I long ago lost pushed its way back to the surface. Singing my way through Fleetwood Mac’s, “The Chain,” the pent-up rage from my recent betrayal broke through. It was incredibly cathartic to allow myself a moment of release.

Originally, I had set the goal of singing in front of an audience with the intention of purely returning to my past love of music. After the past weekend, it has turned into so much more. I felt more alive and truer to myself than I had in a while. In a way, finding my way back to singing has allowed me to focus on myself. Put myself first.

The warm reception of the crowd and compliments after each song only fueled me more. I was pulsing with energy and happiness. Seeing Theo approach me, for what felt like the hundredth time, I stopped myself from retreating and stood firmly in place. Just once, I wanted to allow myself to fall into the moment. No walls, no hesitation.

Imagine my surprise when someone threw a drink in his face and called him an “asshole.” Sure, I didn’t know the story there, but it didn’t stop it from stinging a little.

How could he kiss me, stupidly tell me he thinks we’re soulmates, then have someone throwing a drink in his face a week later? While that made little sense, it strangely thrusted sense into me. What was I doing, standing there, waiting for Theo to find me again? Did I want him to kiss me again? Was I willing to…no, was I looking to lose myself again? No sir, not this time.

I was drawing a hard line in the sand—Theo and I were so not happening.

Having made it to Charles’ office, I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts and knocked on his door, willing myself to focus on the upcoming meeting.

“Come in,” I heard my boss’ voice carry through his thick wood door.

“Hi Mr. Edwards, I’m here for our ten o’clock.”

“Ellie, please, call me Charles,” he motioned to the two armchairs in front of his broad glass desk. “Please take a seat.”

Situating myself in the closest chair, we dove into our regular small talk.

“Well Ellie, as you might recall, I scheduled this meeting today to discuss your next assignment.” Acknowledging my smile, he nodded before continuing. “Chestnut Hills Community College is looking to modernize their marketing to draw in the incoming generation. They have been facing some challenges competing with University City in Philadelphia and want to highlight their opportunities for learning at a cost-efficient price point. I think your unique style will bring just what they need.”

“Thank you, Mr.—Charles, thank you Charles. It sounds like a great project to have some fun with and support the community.”

Pleasantly nodding in agreement, he turned to examine his computer screen. “You should have a block on your calendar atone thirty. We’ve scheduled a meet and greet at two with the Dean and a member of the student council.”

“Wonderful, looking forward to it. Thank you for thinking of me for this project. ”

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ellie. I’m looking forward to seeing what you bake up this time.” Closing out the conversation, I was back in the hallway in less than fifteen minutes total.

Back in my office, I started researching the school. While the website was reminiscent of the early 2000s, there was an obvious message of engagement between staff and students. They highlighted their professor to student ratio to be about 11:1, which turned out to be better than the national average. On top of that, their average student satisfaction rate was 89%, among the highest in the country.

While deep in my search for the student council page, my phone vibrated next to me. Intrigue filled me when I saw it was the cute Bucky Barnes look-a-like from Wild Cider.

After Brian so graciously announced my singleness on Friday, a scruffy haired, big bicep-ed man approached me and asked for my number. Caught up in a moment of freedom and heightened spirit, I gave him my biggest, most flirtatious smile and recited my phone number.

Graham

Good morning. Are you free for lunch today?

In the light of day, my wits about me, my initial instinct was to blow him off. A certain tattooed, eight-pack carrying nerd flooded my brain. Despite having pushed Theo away, I couldn’t ignore the electricity I felt in my veins when we touched. Hell, since I almost ran into him on the elevator those weeks ago, I had yet been able to explain away the flock of birds I felt in my stomach when I saw him. That’s right—a flock of birds. Not butterflies…birds.

Then, as fate would allow, a woman whom he claimed he only went out with once threw a drink in his face. His friend, Penny, did say that behavior tracked for what she heard about the woman; but that did nothing to quell the evil voice in my head that there was always someone else better than me.

Theo had been nothing but complimentary and kind, and despite seeing me in several compromising positions, he’d yet to criticize me. Talking to another guy felt like cheating, but the fact remained that I hadn’t been able to face him since our kiss.

The cheery on top of the Loop &Scoop sundae was that he then left without saying goodbye. He just walked out in the middle of a song. That was all the convincing I needed to play the field. While my fingertips weren’t quite vibrating the way they did when I texted Theo, there was a little of excitement there. I might as well try the “dating” thing out.

Ellie

Good morning! I am smiley face emoji

Graham

Salsa’s at noon?

Ellie

See ya there!

Graham

It’s a date.

Parking in front of the Chestnut Hills Community College administrative building, I mentally gave myself a high-five. Not only did lunch prove to be a great idea—Graham was both hunky and a gentleman—I accomplished putting myself out there and I saved enough time to finish my research before the meeting. Damn, I was good .

Staring at the student council page of their website on my small phone screen, I racked my brain trying to place the name…Lucy Evans. While a common enough name, the familiarity tickled me, and I couldn’t help but think I knew this person. Lucy Evans, Student Council President.

Fifteen minutes early, I strode into the administrative building putting on my “I’m a confident Senior Copywriter here to solve all your problems” hat. Finding Harold Donovan’s name placard on the directory, I leisurely wandered down the hall, taking in the deep tones of the wood and ornate carvings in the molding.

“Hello, my name is Ellie Branson,” I sweetly but professionally introduced myself to the receptionist. “I have a two o’clock with Harold Donovan.”

“Hello Ms. Branson,” the kind silver haired woman greeted me with a smile. “Yes, they’re ready for you. You may enter just through those doors,” she motioned over her shoulder to the right.

A bald man in his late 60s with a glorious gray mustache sat behind a large and commanding desk. Across from him, with her back to the door, was a younger, petite woman with wavy gold hair. Upon my entrance, they both stood, the woman turning to face me.

“Ms. Branson,” the mustached man greeted me as he came around his desk, extending his hand. “I am Harold Donovan, Dean of Chestnut Hills Community College.” Giving my hand a firm shake, he motioned to the young woman. On cue, she eagerly stuck out her hand, mimicking his movement a moment ago.

“Lucy Evans, President of the Student Council,” she gave me a bright and eager smile. “I’m so excited to be a part of this project, Ms. Branson. I can’t wait to work with you.”

Shaking my head, I returned the smile. “Likewise, Ms. Evans, Mr. Donovan. It’s not every day you see a college with an 89% satisfaction rating. I’m looking forward to highlighting all that Chestnut Hills Community College is.”

Mr. Donovan gave an approving smile and held a facial expression that could only be described as “proud father.”

“Please, Ms. Brandon, have a seat,” he motioned to the two empty chairs. Mindlessly choosing the one at the end, I took a seat. The empty seat in the middle provided a little personal space for me and Lucy. Though it was odd to have three chairs in front of a desk. “And please,” he continued, “call me Harold.”

“Only if you call me Ellie.” I gave him a small wink. Ease settled over the room, and he chuckled to himself.

“I take it you’ve done a little research on the college?”

“A little. Eighty-nine percent satisfaction is quite the rating, and eleven to one professor to student ratio? It’s almost unheard of.” Opening my hands, I emphasized my enthusiasm as I talked. “Also, it’s not every school where Student Council is such a coveted and respected part of the institution and community.” Lucy smiled at that and looked away bashfully.

Oh, I totally had my ass-kissing shoes on today. I. Was. Killing. It.

Lacing his fingers together, Harold sneaked a glance at the clock. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Ellie. That being said, in addition to Ms. Evans here, I’ve also invited one of our top-rated professors to join this conversation.” Harold and Lucy exchanged a knowing look, that while discreet, also screamed a secret kept between the two.

Alight tap came from the back of the room and Harold motioned someone to enter.

"Ellie, this is Professor Emerson, Department Chair and Professor of Plant Sciences and Landscape Architecture.”

Oh shit.