Lisa
The morning started off quiet, almost too quiet. Dave and I hadn't exchanged a single word since we both tiptoed around the apartment, pretending like the other didn't exist. I hadn't even seen him, just heard the occasional shuffle of his footsteps and the door closing behind him when he enters or leaves the room.
I lingered in the kitchen longer than usual, pretending to be busy with my coffee while mentally willing Dave to stay in his room until I left.
The awkwardness from the party and the fact that we were now work partners had made the apartment feel... stifling. But today, I got lucky. No sign of him as I grabbed my bag and slipped out the door.
By the time I got to the office, I'd convinced myself it would be a normal day. That illusion shattered the moment Racheal called us into her office.
"Lisa, Dave," my manager, Cassandra, called as she waved us over. Her voice was cheerful, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension that shot through me as Dave walked up beside me. I didn't even glance his way.
"You two will be meeting with one of our VIP clients today," she announced, her bright red nails clicking against the surface of her desk as she slid over a folder.
"They're one of our bigger accounts, so this is an important project, and they are expecting the best. You'll need to work together to style the client and create content around their brand. This is a team effort, so I need you both on the same page."
Yes, absolutely," I said immediately, pasting on a professional smile.
"Crystal," Dave added. His tone was polite, but I could hear the slight edge to it, which only made my jaw tighten.
"Great," Racheal said, clearly pleased with herself. "The client is expecting you by 11 a.m. Get it done. Impress them. No mistakes. Good luck!"
As we walked out of the office, the air between us was heavy with unspoken words. I could feel Dave's glance on me, but I refused to look at him. We stepped into the elevator, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable.
"Guess we're stuck with each other today," Dave finally said, his tone neutral.
"Seems like it," I replied, keeping my voice even.
The drive was thankfully smooth. Dave made polite conversation about traffic and the weather, and I nodded or hummed in response, keeping my focus on the client details. I kept telling myself this was strictly professional. We were both adults, and we could handle one meeting without any drama.
When we arrived at the client's studio, my nerves kicked in. It was sleek and modern, with huge glass windows and minimalist decor. This wasn't some small-time gig… this client clearly had high expectations.
Dave and I walked in together, maintaining a polite distance. The client, woman named Claire, tall, beautiful, and in her forties with impeccable taste and an air of authority, greeted us with a smile. She was polished and confident, the kind of woman who made you want to sit up straighter just by being in the same room.
"Welcome, I'm Claire Davies, and you are?" she said, gesturing for us to sit while we immediately introduced ourselves.
"Lisa, Dave, welcome," she said, shaking our hands.
"I'm excited to see what you've got for me. I've heard great things about your company, so I'm excited to see what you two come up with." She chimed in.
"Thank you for having us," I said, offering a confident smile despite the butterflies in my stomach.
Thank you," I said, smiling as I pulled out my notebook. "I've already got some ideas for styling that I think will really align with your brand."
"And I've been brainstorming content ideas that could help your audience connect with the look," Dave added smoothly.
For a brief moment, I thought maybe we'd be fine. That we could actually work together without stepping on each other's toes.
I was wrong.
The tension started small… just a slight disagreement about colors.
"I think a bold, monochrome palette would be striking," I said, showing Claire a mood board I'd prepared.
"Bold, sure, but too stiff," Dave countered. "Why not lean into something softer, like pastels? It would feel more approachable."
Claire's gaze flicked between us, her polite smile faltering slightly.
"Pastels don't align with the aesthetic she already has," I argued, trying to keep my tone professional. "Her current brand is edgy, not soft."
"It's edgy, yes, but her target audience isn't necessarily into harsh tones. You've got to think about what resonates with them, not just what looks good on paper."
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep calm. "And I'm saying the bold look would resonate just fine. It's memorable, eye-catching…"
"And intimidating," Dave interrupted, shaking his head.
By the time we moved on to content ideas, it was clear we weren't on the same page.
"I was thinking of a high-energy behind-the-scenes video," Dave said, leaning forward as he explained his concept. "It would show the transformation process, give people a peek into Claire's creative world."
"It's too chaotic," I said, barely masking my frustration. "A clean, minimalistic photoshoot would be much more impactful. Less noise, more focus."
"Minimalistic is just another word for boring," Dave shot back, his tone sharper now.
Claire raised her hands, cutting us off before we could continue. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but this is... a lot."
Heat flushed my face, both from embarrassment and frustration. I bit my tongue, knowing I'd already said too much.
Claire leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "It's clear you both have strong ideas, which is great. But you're not working together, you're not on the same page and that's a problem. I can't move forward with a team that can't present a united vision."
"We can…" I started, but she held up a hand.
"Here's what I suggest," she said. "Take some time to have a meeting, just the two of you. Figure out a plan you both agree on, then come back to me. I need a team, not two individuals pulling in opposite directions." Her tone wasn't harsh, but the disappointment in her eyes stung.
"Of course," Dave said quickly, his voice suddenly composed. "We'll get this sorted."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thank you for your patience. We'll be in touch soon." I chimed in, forcing out a smile.
Claire gave us a tight smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with." She added while I felt my face flush. Great. First big meeting, and we were already blowing it.
As we walked out, I kept my gaze straight ahead, my hands gripping my notebook so tightly my knuckles turned white.
We got in the elevator, and the silence was suffocating. I could feel the tension radiating off Dave, and I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us snapped. My jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, but I wasn't going to be the first to speak.
But, of course, he couldn't help himself.
"That was embarrassing, you know, right?" Dave said, his voice low but sharp. "Do you even know what the word collaboration means?"
I turned to him, my brows shooting up in disbelief. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that me not collaborating, or you dismissing every idea I had like you're the only person with a brain?" I lashed back at him.
He let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms. "Dismissing your ideas? Lisa, you were bulldozing through mine like they didn't even exist!"
"Because your ideas didn't make sense!" I snapped, my voice rising. "Pastels? Chaotic videos? Do you even understand her brand? Or were you just winging it for fun?"
"Winging it?" he repeated, stepping closer. "I spent hours brainstorming content ideas that would actually work for her audience. Meanwhile, you were too busy obsessing over how bold everything looked to think about what might actually connect with people!" He let out.
"Because it's my job to think about the visuals!" I shot back, glaring up at him. "And if you knew anything about fashion, or branding, you'd know that her visuals are what make her stand out!"
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Oh, give me a break, Lisa. It's not about standing out, it's about engagement. But clearly, you're more interested in impressing her with your mood boards than actually helping her brand grow." He retorted.
That hit a nerve, and I felt my cheeks flush with anger. "Don't you dare act like I don't care about this project! I've worked just as hard as you, harder, even… and I actually know what I'm talking about. You're the one who keeps trying to turn this into some content creator vanity project!"
"Vanity project?" His voice was cold now, his eyes narrowing. "You really think that little of what I do?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, and he saw it.
"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "Good to know where I stand." He let out slowly
"That's not what I meant," I said quickly, though my tone was still sharp. "I'm just saying you're so focused on your damn videos that you're not thinking about the bigger picture."
"And you're so focused on your damn outfits that you can't see past your own ego!"
The words hung in the air like a slap, and for a moment, I was too stunned to respond. My fists clenched at my sides, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Ego?" I repeated, my voice trembling with anger. "You think I have an ego? You're the one who can't handle anyone disagreeing with you! Every time I suggest something, you act like it's a personal attack instead of, you know, my actual expertise!"
Dave opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Lisa, I wasn't undermining you. I was giving my input. We're supposed to be a team."
"A team doesn't argue in front of a client," I shot back. "You made me look incompetent!"
"Maybe if you communicated better…" he cut in sharply, clenching my jaw.
"Well, maybe if you trusted my judgment…" he let out and then stopped as the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.
For a second, neither of us moved, the tension crackling between us like static electricity. Then Dave stepped out, his movements stiff and deliberate.
"Do whatever you want," he said over his shoulder, his tone icy. "Clearly, you've got it all figured out."
My jaw dropped as I stared after him, disbelief and fury battling for dominance. "Excuse me?" I called after him, but he didn't stop.
"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath as I stepped out of the elevator, heading in the opposite direction. My hands were shaking, and I felt like I might explode.
How dare he act like I was the problem? Like I was the one who couldn't work with him?
By the time I reached the car, my head was spinning with everything I should have said to him. But instead, I slammed the door shut, gripped the steering wheel, and let out a frustrated yell.
This was going to be a long six months…