Not If I Date You First

Chapter 5

When the chemo made her too sick to leave the house, I'd pick up the magazines and bring them to her. Those photos gave her an escape, however small, from the pain she was dealing with. And while not everyone is going through something as traumatic as cancer, having a distraction from the stress of everyday life is a much-needed break for a lot of us. Immersing ourselves in photos of people living glittering lifestyles helps us forget our problems, hope for something bigger for ourselves. And sometimes, if the pictures are really good, we feel the magic of being close to our favorite celebs. Like a little bit of their stardust has rubbed off on us.

If Liam thinks he's above all that, well, that shows what a self-centered jerk he is.

When I finally reach the conference room, I pause, hand hovering over the door handle. I'm probably going to get fired the second I walk in there. Hopefully, the shots I took of Mia and Liam this morning are enough to save me.

I decide it's best to get it over with—like that time Elodie and I decided it was a good idea to try waxing our legs and the anticipation was actually worse than the searing pain itself. I take a deep breath and push open the door.

"As you can see—" Agnes, my new boss, breaks off mid-sentence, her jaw dropping open. She's standing at the end of a long mahogany conference table. The traffic on 11th Street rushes by outside the window behind her.

A guy about my age with greasy hair pulled up in a man bun and a girl with bushy blond hair and lots of freckles sit in the seats on her left. They stare at me, stunned. You know you're having a bad day when a dude with a man bun is judging you because of your hair.

His eyes drop to the coffee in my hand, and he smirks, elbowing the girl. She glances down at my drink and claps a hand over her mouth, suppressing a laugh.

I close my eyes. 'Paparazzi Queen' indeed. Stupid coffee cup. I want to crawl under the table and hide. 

Agnes clears her throat, scowling down at me.

"Sorry." I duck my head, slipping into a chair across from the other interns. I set my cup on the floor, out of sight.

"You're late." Agnes folds her arms. Her lips are pursed, and she looks pissed.

"Agnes, I'm so sorry."

"What in the five boroughs happened to you?" Her gaze hovers over my hair and juice-splattered clothes.

"It's a wild story. Actually, I—"

"Save it. We don't have time right now."

"But—"

She gives me a look, and I immediately snap my mouth shut. Agnes raises her voice. "As I was saying. There are three of you—two who managed to show up on time...."

I shrink down in my seat, twisting the charm of my necklace between my fingers.

"And there's one job available with this company, which means at the end of the summer, only one of you will be offered a permanent position."

Only one of us? Jeez. Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games. I knew I'd have to prove myself to earn a spot at Huntley, but I didn't realize I'd be competing against other photographers.

I glance over at the other interns. The guy appears as rattled by the announcement as I am, but the girl nods, a  smile tugging at her mouth like she thinks she's got this in the bag. I'm not about to let that happen.

Grams passed away before I found out about this internship, but she made me promise I'd turn my dream of being a paparazzo into a reality. Losing is not an option.