Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I pick my phone up off my desk and swipe into our chatbox, the blinking cursor waiting on my words. Taking this chat from after hours to during work is not the smartest idea.
It’s risky. It’s questionable. It’s all the you-shouldn’t-be-doing-this things.
But I do it anyway. I can’t wait for tonight. I have to thank her now.
ThunderStruck: Where’d you get these cookies from? Heaven?
Not even a minute later, ElizaBeth has reentered the chat appears on the screen.
ElizaBeth: LOL I didn’t get them anywhere. I made them. Good, huh?
ThunderStruck: 10/10.
ElizaBeth: Yeah?
She’s messaging me during office hours. Which means she’s somewhere in this building watching the screen of her phone like I’m watching the screen of my phone. My eyes flit out of my door, scanning the other offices along the edges and the giant cubicle area in the center.
I don’t know what I think I’ll find, but with ninety-five percent of the workforce on their phones, I come up with nothing. Damn, I wish I could just figure out who she is.
ThunderStruck: I can only think of one single thing that would make them better.
ElizaBeth: What?
ThunderStruck: Having them hand-delivered.
ElizaBeth: By, like, a courier?
ThunderStruck: Don’t be cute.
ElizaBeth: Sorry. Cute’s all I know how to be.
Oh, ElizaBeth, I know.
Her cuteness is like quicksand. And I’m in so deep, I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
My eyes are heavy, and I’m doing everything I can to pay attention during my Midnight team’s weekly meeting.
Eddie is in the process of getting a final cut of the commercial, the edits he wanted to put into action already approved by me last week, and Madeline’s current list of influencers and celebrities interested in joining our campaign if our team does end up getting the green light from Hughes International is impressive. Laura and Jay have made significant progress on copy for the digital space and slide mock-ups for the presentation we will be giving in front of the Hughes International executives in a couple of months, and Harry has secured fifteen additional magazine spots.
The test groups have given unbelievably good feedback, and everything is running full steam ahead.
Everything, that is, but me.
Two more weeks of my late-night chats with ElizaBeth have flown by, the exhilaration of each of them keeping me up well into the night. But during the day, the lack of sleep is starting to get grating, and I’m kind of wondering how long I’ll be able to go on without anyone noticing.
As it is right now, I’m supposed to meet Henry for lunch, but I think I’m going to have to cancel and take a power nap instead.
“Great work, everyone. I know this has been a marathon already, but we’re finally getting somewhere. By next week’s meeting, we’ll almost be halfway there. Keep positive. Keep innovative. Keep pushing. I’ll see you back here next week for our meeting, but you know where to find me in the meantime. You know what I always say about fires?”
“Time only fans the flames,” the five of them recite in unison, making me laugh.
“Right.” I laugh. “Get out of here. And all of you promise me you’re going to get some rest whenever you can.”
Laura and Jay are the first to scoot out, and she doesn’t hesitate to tell me, “You’d better get some rest too.”
I smile and nod. There’s no denying I look like hell.
Harry, Eddie, and Madeline follow shortly after, and I bring up the rear, flipping off the lights on my way out the door. We don’t normally convene in the conference room on the fourth floor, and the cardinal rule of using spaces that aren’t yours is to leave them how you found them.
I’m not going to extreme measures at this point, but I figure meeting where I know Seth and his team won’t be is a necessary and basic precaution.
I look through the unfamiliar offices and cubicles as I follow my team to the bank of elevators at the front of the building, willing my Mystery Woman to stand out in the crowd.
I’m ready to know who she is—ready to see what could happen if we take things outside of the chat—and finding her organically would expedite the process.
When I step on the elevator, my mind is at odds. How can I simultaneously want what we have to go on forever and know that if it goes on for much longer, it’s liable to kill me?
When a Post-it note is the first thing I see on my desk, a rush of excitement consumes my chest. Ready or not, I have to risk kicking this up a notch.
“Adrenaline is nature’s way of telling you ‘don’t fuck up.’”
-M.W.
PS: You better not cheat with Google on me.
I smile at the ongoing movie quote challenge we’ve been playing for the past two nights. The two nights before that, the name of the game was song lyrics. She never chooses easy stuff to test me with and surprises me constantly. Today, she’s raw and obscure. Tomorrow, she may very well be something else.