#finewine

"With that, we'll be needing one of you to step up to the role as one of the project managers. It'll be a great opportunity, so please do consider it and let me know if you're interested."

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head to the side before–against better (or any) judgement—speaking up, "A product launch? Wouldn’t this be a milestone event for us, sir?”

“That’s exactly right—this would be an important event, so we really hope we’re able to pull it off successfully,” he responds in an upbeat tone, but you know that it’s just a ruse to entice people to volunteer for the role. You know the work an event like this would entail, despite your lack of experience. And, as much as you’d like to help out, you’re too busy to dip your toes in the water.

“If the event is so important, shouldn't we be hiring event organizers to plan and manage it on our behalf, sir?" You ask, genuinely curious.

And it seems like a valid question, as your officemates begin to hum, as if in contemplation and agreement.

Expecting your supervisor to respond to your query, you're surprised to hear one of your senior coworkers chime in instead. He stands adjacent to your supervisor, his back against the corridor wall and his arms crossed over his chest; he barely even looks at you when he responds, "Given the cutbacks, it's more practical to have us spearhead the project."

“Well, with all due respect, but wouldn’t it be practical to have professionals–who know what they’re doing–instead of us?” You retort, cautious in your tone.

Your coworker raises a brow, “Are you insinuating that you don’t believe that we have what it takes to plan an event?”

At this point, silence befalls among the crowd. The other coworkers awkwardly glance at each other after that tiny exchange; they can feel the tension, and you can too.

A frown presents itself on your features at his claim, irritated at how your words were twisted and held against you, “No, that’s not what I meant. I was just saying—” You're about to rebut his sentiment, when your boss speaks ahead of you.

"Enough. Nanami's right. It's more financially-wise to approach it this way. Besides, I trust the team can create a successful event on their own, what do you say?"

Of course Nanami's right. He's always right. You don't know how you manage to do it, but you avoid scowling more evidently, instead biting your tongue and forcing a polite, respectable smile towards your coworker, "I understand."

Asshole.

Nanami lightly shifts his gaze, now directly looking at you as you smile at him. He keeps his expression stoic, and you can't help but feel annoyed at the lack of amiability. Ever since you've been hired in this company, you've never been able to find a reason to put up more than the standard level of professionalism with this man. You can't stand being with him, only because of how different the two of you were in operating. You've always been the brash and radical one, open to experimenting with ideas, whereas Nanami was more traditional. He'd rather play by the rules and do what he knows works rather than play a risky gamble, which is why the two of you often butted heads in situations like these. Initially, you didn’t mind it, but it became more difficult to get him to agree with you the more you worked with him.

But he was also a few years your senior, so you figured that his approach must have been due to his experience, and thus you could only stand your ground so much before being disrespectful; you had to have your limits. But, this doesn’t eliminate your frustrations towards him, as it seemed the feeling was mutual anyway.

The supervisor clasps his hands again, pulling you out of your thoughts and you turn your attention back to him, "Alright, alright. I've made up my mind. Instead of volunteers, I'll be assigning you to the project."

You're so caught up by that little interaction you had a while ago that you don't register your supervisor pointing towards you, at least, not until a few seconds of silence pass.

Widening your eyes, you gesture to yourself, “Me?”

You receive a nod in response from your boss, “Yes, you.”

No. No, no, no. This can't be happening. You think back to the last time you've last planned for an event this big but you draw up blanks—you've never done this before, not at this scale, and now you've been assigned to a milestone project for the company. This has to be a mistake. You think that maybe if you let your boss know how busy you are with other work deliverables, maybe he'll reconsider and give it to someone more capable.

“But, sir—” You’re about to contest, but he raises a finger to stop you, silently telling you through his expression that this was not the right place to discuss this.

"Let's talk about this more in my office in ten minutes, okay?" He says, nodding to the rest of your coworkers as a signal that they've been dismissed from the mini-conference.

You swallow thickly, before mustering up a nod in confirmation, "Alright."

He smiles at you lightly, and you sense some form of apology in the smile, before he turns to head back to his office.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that Nanami hasn't moved from his original position. He's still leaning against the corridor, arms crossed with his eyes scanning the floor. You can't help but notice the slight look of trouble in his face, as if he's deep in thought. However, instead of asking, you find slight amusement in it.

Poor man, he must be constipated or something.

You chuckle inwardly, and for a while you forget that you've just been given an exhausting month-long project, but a low, gruff clear of the throat snaps you back to reality.

Nanami towers over you, and it's only then that you realize that you've been blocking the hallway this entire time.

"My bad," You tell him coldly, before stepping aside and pressing your back against the office door of your supervisor in order to let your coworker pass.

He looks at you, unamused, then gestures at the office door, "Excuse me. May I enter?"

" Oh ," You say, sidestepping, "Whoops, sorry. I thought you were just gonna pass."

Nanami doesn't respond to you. Instead, he twists the door open, enters, and shuts it behind him, leaving you alone with your pent-up frustration for him. You clench your fists and sigh before turning on the balls of your feet and sauntering off to the breakroom to get a glass of water before your meeting.

Ten minutes pass and you find yourself back in front of your supervisor's door. You heave a deep breath, hesitating to knock. You haven't noticed Nanami leave since you first saw him enter; the last thing you'd want is to bump into him when you open the door. You recall how intimidating he looked earlier when he was inches away from you, waiting for you to step aside. The thought gives you goosebumps.

Shaking the visual away, you finally bring yourself to knock on the door. You hear your supervisor tell you to come in, and so you take your time to twist the knob and enter the room. To your surprise, Nanami hasn't left. In fact, he’s seated in one of the chairs in front of your supervisor's desk, his suit jacket hanging on his seat's backrest.

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" You ask as you shut the door behind you.

"No, you're right in time, actually," your boss says, gesturing to the empty seat beside Nanami, "Please."

You quickly make your way over and take a seat, shifting until you're comfortable. You can't help but steal a quick side glance to your coworker, confusion and–oddly enough–dread looming over you.

"So, before we begin, I'd like to inform you two that you'll be co-managing this project together. It'll be tough working on it alone so..."

If the sudden decision to make you project manager was a punch to the gut, this was way, way worse. Not only do you have to spend an entire month, maybe even two months, planning a company event from scratch, but you have to do it with practically the only person in your entire workplace that you can't stand? That explains the foreboding gut feeling you had. Your head snaps to the direction where Nanami is sitting, and he doesn't seem to be surprised or even bothered by it. If he is, he doesn't show it.

"Wait, wait— hold on. Did you just—don't I get a say in this arrangement?" You exclaim, interrupting your supervisor. In normal circumstances, you would have apologized and dropped the topic immediately, but this time was different. There is no way in hell you're gonna allow yourself to be forced to work with Nanami Kento for an entire month.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve tried,” commented Nanami snarkily. You glare at him before turning to your boss.

"Will all due respect, sir, I think you're aware that Mr. Nanami and I don't necessarily have... the best work dynamic. For the best interest of the company, I think it's best to rethink having me as a co-manager," you plead, unaware you've been gripping at the armchair cushion too tightly.

"Are you letting your personal feelings towards me affect how you work?" Nanami asks with a slight smirk that is only noticeable to you, "How unprofessional."

"No," you snap back immediately, gritting your teeth before turning back to your supervisor, "All I'm saying is, with how the two of us approach things, maybe there's another employee more fit to collaborate with Mr. Nanami. Y-You know, for the benefit of the event."

It was a well-known fact in the office that the two of you didn’t get along. But, if it weren’t for the both of you being able to maintain the right level of professionalism and distance with one another, you two would have probably been invited to a couple of conflict resolution seminars (maybe that would’ve been the wiser choice to do, but you’re both too prideful to back down). And thus, you’ve learned to hover over one another, never getting too close to avoid anything explosive. This, however, will completely ruin that.

Your supervisor shifts his attention between you and Nanami, as if calculating the proper projection of his decision. He rubs his temple before sighing, "Look, I know the two of you are an unlikely pair. You don't often see eye-to-eye and you're right, you approach things differently, but you're also my most competent employees. This launch is a milestone event for our company, so the event has to work. I trust you two to m ake it work, understand?"

You feel as if your heart's about to burst from your chest. A few seconds ago, you had hope that your boss would oblige and realize that pairing you with Nanami was a bad idea, but now it seems like there really is no way around it. You're doing this. And, from the look on your coworker’s face, it seems as if he too was already resigned to doing it.

"Understood," you say, defeatedly, sinking downwards on your seat.

"Good. Maybe after the event we can consider you for promotion," you boss says with a cheeky smile.

And he knew the exact words to encourage you. You perk upwards after hearing that, " Really?"

"Give me a successful event and maybe I'll write your endorsement letter."

* * *

You find yourself in an empty meeting room sitting across none other than Nanami Kento. To say the least, the air between you two is a combination of awkward and tense. You swear you can hear your coffee swirling in its cup; no one has said anything in the past ten minutes since you’ve first entered the room, and you blame each other’s pride for not saying the first word.

Nanami doesn’t look at you. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to his phone. It’s ridiculous, because you can see from the reflection of the board behind him that his phone’s not actually on and he’s staring at a black screen.

Is he unaware that you can see, or is he doing it on purpose?

Rolling your eyes, you finally break the silence, “So, guess this explains the face you were making a while ago.”

“What face?” He asks, his brows scrunching.

“The one you made after I got assigned for the project,” you scoff, keeping your gaze anywhere but on him, “You looked horrified.”

“Yeah, I was,” he responds blankly, and you restrain yourself from seething. Shouldn’t have said the latter part—you set yourself up for that one.

You pretend you just didn’t hear what he said, “I was thinking we should discuss the project goals first before we create an outline, then use the outline as the basis for who we can get for our team.”

“Fair enough,” Nanami responds, setting his phone, screen down, on the table. He slides the folder by the edge of the table closer to him, flipping it open to reveal the paperwork inside. You watch him go through it, before he slides you a sheet, “Here, the project goals from the higher-ups.”

And just like that, like a switch, you two have turned from workplace enemies to professionals just trying to get through being forced to work with one another.

You take the piece of paper from his hands, skimming through its contents, “May I see what else is in the folder?”

Nanami slides the file over to you and you quickly go over it page-by-page, analyzing the details of the product and the event itself. It’s pretty comprehensive, and you wonder just how much work has already been put into this thing before you were even assigned to it.

“So apparently you’ve already been assigned to this project beforehand?” You ask him curiously.

“Yes, just about a week now. Look, you read the file and saw how extensive this thing is. I said I needed a partner, I just didn’t think it would be you. And quite frankly, I think we’re mutual in our opinions regarding each other.”

“Hm, you make a fair point,” you say lightheartedly, still eyeing the documents.

Nanami sighs, “Our boss is taking a risk and making us work together. I don’t normally take risks, but the only reason I obliged to do this is that it’s not an entire gamble. It’s up to us to make it work.”

You shift your attention towards him, surprised by how he worded the sentiment.

“Yeah, I know,” you respond indifferently, but you can’t help but start to feel nervous. It dawns upon you just how important this assignment is, and how much you can’t– for the love of god–screw it up, “And if you’re worried about our work dynamic, don’t be, because I’ll try my best to make it as bearable as possible.”

He doesn’t respond, at least, not for a while, and you take that as a sign that he was indeed worried about how you two would interact, “Let’s just get today’s meeting over with.”

You roll your eyes, then turn back to the file he gave you. If you’re being honest, the only thing motivating you right now is the possibility of promotion, “Anyway, do you have any ideas drafted up?”

“Not yet,” Nanami says plainly.

You raise a brow, turning your gaze towards him, “No? You’ve been working on this project for a week and have nothing?”

“I met with the higher-ups to discuss finance and logistics. I’ve got that sorted out, but the direction of the event itself, is the reason why I asked for a partner,” he responds in a calm cadence, but you hear a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Sighing, you stack the documents on top of each other, striking the edge against the surface of the desk to even them out. Right. If there was something he had and you didn’t, it was the guts to face the company’s topdogs and negotiate with them, “Sorry, sorry about that. Well, what can I do then?”

“I need you to draft up a rough project outline for tomorrow, do you think that’s feasible?”

“O—kay,” you say with hesitance. Tomorrow? You’re kidding, “I’ll have you go through it tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” he confirms, checking his watch, “Anyway. I have another meeting to attend to. Are we good for now?”

“For now,” you respond, closing the folder and hugging it to your chest.

“Good,” Nanami says curtly, pushing back his seat and getting up, “Don’t lose the files, and text me if you need anything.”

“Relax, I won’t lose it. Also, I don’t have your number.”

“Check the company directory,” he tells you, before pulling the door open and leaving the meeting room.

Once he’s gone, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. That didn’t go as bad as you expected, but it didn’t go great either. Interacting with Nanami for longer periods of time was something you still had to get used to, and if this was how today went down, you’re terrified for what’s about to come once the actual work begins to pick up and the stress starts to get the better of the two of you.