How To Hate Your Best Friend

seventeen

Barely anyone was at the museum today. Half of the students were out because they began traveling for the upcoming holidays, and Thanksgiving was right around the corner. The recent meetings that Mrs. Becraft had called in the past couple weeks had basically been preparation lessons for learning how to work large events.  Large events such as the one she currently would not shut the hell up about. 

"Last call for portfolio entries for a chance to win tickets!" Mrs. Becraft shouted, rolling her cart around the museum as teens scrambled to try and win. 

I had decided to opt out the raffle for tickets to this 'prestigious' event she spoke of, and instead focused in on my personal assignment I had for my smaller bureau of the internship. 

"Is that Asha Daniels?" Anthony's voice chirped from behind me.

I grinned and turned to face him. "Wow, I would've assumed the next time I'd be seeing you you'd be in cuffs."

"Ooo kinky. And why is that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because of your thrift store thief escapades." I paused, "Wait, or is your thieving schedule so overbooked, you've already forgotten?" 

"Jeez, Daniels, look at you. Already getting a hang of the sarcasm, and," he squinted his eyes to look at the screen I was working on, "Investment logisitics?"

"Mrs. Becraft has me working on these company analysis'. Brooke was supposed to do the other half of them but she hasn't turned them in yet. They're due the day before Thanksgiving," I sighed.

"Well I wish you luck on that however, speaking of Thanksgiving.. Guess what?"

"What?"

"Chicken butt."

I stared at him. 

"Nah I'm just playing," he took a seat. "I scored us some tickets for that event Ms. Becraft's been talkin about."

"Oh forreal? Front row tickets or?" I was curious as to what this event was. It was prestigious, yet she was raffling off tickets? What sense would that make?

He grimaced, "Errr, more like backrow.. in the kitchen.. helping as volunteers. But hey! Connections, am I right? And doesn't hurt to add to resume for the NGSA scholarship?"

Oh. That's why. She was raffling tickets for us to help as volunteers!

"Hm. Where's it at?"

"National Archives. Thanksgiving. I'm not doing anything w my family sooo if you're down..."

"Why would I dedicate my leisurely time to volunteering?"

"Uh maybe because half of DC's political population will be there? Plus building those oh so necessary networking skills would help a lot in winning this scholarship," he smirked. 

He was right. 

Things were progressively getting more serious in the NGSA scholarship competition. The competition had dwindled down to half as most of the students dropped out or were let go by Mrs. Becraft. But all that meant was that the stakes were even higher between all the people left. Somehow, our institution group were one of the last ones standing, and it meant we had to be on our very best behavior in order to keep the odds in our favor.

We had been assigned to a political science law firm, and the supervisors there were not easily impressed. Any and everything you could do to get on their good side was advised. In all honesty, any and everything you could do to get on the good side of the NGSA was advised. 

And working one of their exclusive events where most of the benefactors of the NGSA would most likely be at was definitely a golden ticket in.

But wait a second. National Archives? Thanksgiving? That sounded way too familiar.

"Wait do you know whose sponsoring the event?"

"Uhh..."he took a glance at the card, "Whitman Investments? Apparently it's a big deal. Rich people coming together to rub their dicks together and boast about being rich," he droned sarcastically.

Holy fucking shit.

I was wrong. 

Colton was an Elon Musk. His family was renting out the National Archives, and of all people, Anthony was going to be working the event for the night. 

They could not cross paths. If they did, I think I would die. 

"Earth to Asha?" Anthony waved, allowing me to rejoin reality. 

"Yep! I'm here," I stuttered, avoiding eye contact. Why did I feel like  a two-timing little slut? I didn't want to disappoint Anthony, but I didn't want to betray Colton either. 

"So you coming or not?" he asked, trying to search my eyes. 

I shrugged, shaking my head. "I'll text you if I'm up for it." I decided on.