Chapter 4

During the joint project phase, Chase and I became the world's most functional strangers.

By day, we clashed across the boardroom table—he was the nitpicking client rep, and I was the relentless vendor who refused to back down an inch.

By night, in the *One Big Happy Family* group, we were the model sweethearts who "got along great and supported each other's careers."

The sheer level of cognitive dissonance made me question my sanity.

One Tuesday, we argued in a breakout room until almost 7 PM over a single UX detail.

I fought tooth and nail for user experience; he stubbornly pushed back on technical constraints and dev hours.

"Summer, ideals are great, but reality requires considering budget and timeline!" Chase knocked his knuckles against the table, his brow deeply furrowed.

"And if you never step out of your comfort zone, you'll produce second-rate software forever!" I snapped right back, even though deep down I knew his logistical points were valid.

In the end, we both compromised, settling on a middle ground we could both tolerate.

When the meeting ended, we were both too exhausted to speak.

My phone vibrated. My mom in the group chat.

Mom: [@Summer @Chase Are you kids still working late? Make sure to eat dinner on time! [Shared link: 10 Golden Rules for a Healthy Late Dinner]]

I was completely drained and didn't even have the energy to type.

A few minutes later, Chase replied in the group: [Just wrapped up, Mrs. Miller. Summer and I are heading out to grab dinner together right now. Don't worry.]

My head snapped up to look at him. He was calmly slipping his phone into his pocket and gathering his folders.

My DMs chimed instantly.

Chase: [New bistro opened across the street. Solid Yelp reviews. We can eat while finalizing today’s meeting minutes so nobody can backtrack tomorrow.]

Me: [...Chase, are you a literal demon? You want to review meeting minutes while eating dinner?]

Chase: [I have to circulate the minutes before 8 PM. You can either starve on your commute home to write them, or eat good food and knock it out with me in thirty minutes.]

I ground my teeth: [Send me the address.]

Dubious motives aside, that dinner was ridiculously efficient.

We hammered out the action items in record time and even reached quiet agreements on several disputed points.

When the bill arrived, I instinctively pulled out my card to split it.

Chase glanced at his screen and said, "Put your card away."

I raised a brow. "What? Did Mr. Evans finally grow a conscience?"

He tilted his phone toward me. On the screen was a notification from Mrs. Evans: [Treat Summer to a nice meal, son! Mom’s paying!]

Me: "..."

He pocketed his phone, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips—completely free of his usual sarcasm. "Let's go. Dinner's on my mom."

Watching that smile, my traitorous heart skipped another beat.

Dammit. It was definitely just the joy of getting a free meal.

Finally, launch week arrived. Both our teams worked around the clock.

At 3 AM, I dragged my half-dead body down to the corner convenience store for caffeine, only to run into Chase, sporting identical dark circles under his eyes.

He had grabbed three cans of black coffee. Seeing me, he handed one over.

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking it. I didn't even have the stamina to throw an insult. "Your team still at it?"

"Yeah. Running the final stress test." His voice was raspy with fatigue. "You guys?"

"Patching the last critical bug. Fingers crossed it's the final one." I leaned my back against the snack shelf, feeling entirely hollowed out.

We stood there in silence on the empty sidewalk outside the store, sipping bitter coffee, watching the quiet, deserted city streets.

For once, there was no bickering, no petty office politics. Just two exhausted corporate warriors sharing a moment of mutual survival.

"You know..." Chase broke the quiet softly.

"You did really well."