The Design(64)

Cammie: Ok. Good luck.

Grayson: Wish you were coming with me.



I didn’t text back. I wanted to tell him about the voicemail, but then I’d have to admit that I’d broken into his office, and then I’d also have to tell him about my submission for the competition. My chest tightened just thinking about the mountain of lies building between us. I hadn’t thought ahead enough to realize how far this one decision would throw my life off course.

Instead of deciding on a plan of action, I threw myself into work. Peter stayed late with me and we ordered in food from the deli down the street. The office was quiet and I ignored my buzzing phone. I’d sleep on it and wake up with a clear plan. I always did.

…



My plan didn’t work.

The next morning, it still felt like I was in the eye of a tornado. By breaking into Grayson’s office and by submitting my own design work, I’d set events into motion that I was helpless to stop. I hadn’t considered it before, but the design committee would definitely be sending some kind of confirmation once they received our submissions; who they would contact, I hadn’t a clue. I checked my email obsessively, hoping they would use the personal email address I’d provided for them, but on Wednesday morning, I still hadn’t received a single thing.

I sat at my desk, refreshing my email over and over again, praying that I’d eventually find an email from the design committee. Nothing. In the proposal packet, they said they’d contact us no later than Wednesday to confirm receipt of our packets.

I was royally screwed.

I stayed at my desk as people started to trickle into the office, dread gnawing at my stomach. I had five text messages and three phone calls waiting on my cell phone. They were all from Grayson, and I refused to check a single one until I knew what I wanted to do about us.

At 8:00 am, Grayson strolled into the office with a piercing gaze aimed right for me. I tried to ignore his approach by focusing on my work, but he completely read through my act.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling my chair back so that I was forced to stand or fall to the ground.

“Stop,” I hissed, aware of everyone’s eyes on us.

“No. Let’s go. You’re talking to me. I’ve had enough of the silent treatment.”

His voice warned me that he was not to be tested, but I wanted to test him anyway. How dare he boss me around after what I’d heard on his answering machine? I had every right to demand answers right then and there, to call him out for being an overbearing stalker, but we were interrupted a moment too soon.

“Just the two people I need to talk to,” Alan spat from behind me with more venom than I’d ever heard before.

Grayson’s blue eyes cut from me up to Alan, warning him away. “I’m busy right now, Alan.”

Alan shook his head. “Not too busy for this,” he said, slapping a piece of paper onto my desk. The font was too small for me to make out, but I knew it was an email. Just before Grayson snatched it up, I caught the committee’s email address at the top of the page.

“Grayson let me explain—” I began, before getting cut off.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked as he arrived at his desk, unaware of the hornet’s nest he’d just walked into. Behind him, wearing a small smirk, Hannah stood watching the scene play out. Clearly, she wanted to be privy to the show as well.

I was about to tell her off when she held up a green post-it note. The note that had been missing from my desk a few days earlier. My eyes widened and she smirked, folding the note up and slipping into her pocket.

She’d sneaked into my room and stolen Grayson’s address? That also meant she knew all about my design proposal. Perfect. My worst enemy, aka roommate, had my life in the palm of her hands.

“What is going on, Alan? What does this mean?” Grayson snapped, drawing my attention back to the piece of paper in his hand.

Alan punched my desk with his fist, making me jump. “I'll tell you what it means. Graduate Barbie here wanted to siphon some fame, so she submitted her own f*cking design in the name of Cole Designs.”

I stared between the two of them, watching my world crumble. I knew what was in that email; I knew I was about to have to own up to my actions, but I had no words.

Grayson rubbed his hand across his chin, staring me down with confusion, then fury when I failed to contradict Alan's accusation. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched other coworkers stepping closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action.

“Is this true, Cammie?” Grayson asked, shaking the piece of paper in the air.

I mashed my lips together and stayed silent.

Alan pointed to the email. “That is an email from the competition’s design committee stating that our firm has forfeited our spot in the Urban Park Design Proposal. Each firm is allowed to submit one submission, and yet somehow they received TWO from Cole Designs. What the hell were you thinking? Do you understand what you just lost for the company? That bid was worth millions of dollars, not to mention the fact that our firm’s name would have been printed in every architectural magazine in the country when the design proposals were announced.”

Grayson held up his hand to silence Alan’s rant.

“Did you submit your own design, Cammie?” he asked, wearing a sad, yet hopeful look in his eyes. He wanted me to say no so badly, but I couldn’t.