After breakfast, the group queued for registration at the company's team building event. The conference room sat just steps away from the shoreline, nestled between swaying coconut trees and a stretch of fine white sand. But instead of the stiff corporate ambiance Rue had anticipated, she was met with a breezy, open space—one with a high thatched roof, polished red cement floors, and wide sliding glass panels offering an uninterrupted view of the brilliant blue sea. Ceiling fans spun lazily above, stirring the heat just enough to matter.
The room buzzed with chatter. Employees filled the space, many accompanied by family or friends. Rue guessed there were close to a hundred people in attendance.
Their group found a spot at a front-row table in the corner. After the usual opening prayers and a few polite introductions, the murmurs quieted down as the man of the hour arrived—megaphone in hand.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, engineers and architects, fellow creatives!" boomed a voice.
A man strutted to the front of the room, just beneath a projector screen. His lanyard read Sir Matt. A whistle hung around his neck, a pair of reading glasses perched comically high on his forehead. He wore a loud floral polo over his EthosGroup Solutions T-shirt, and his sneakers squeaked slightly with every enthusiastic dance step he took onto the makeshift stage.
Rue blinked. "That's your team building coordinator?"
Jason, beside her, nodded with a grin. "He was my professor back in undergrad."
"And he hasn't mellowed with age," Elijah murmured.
Sir Matt wiped a trickle of sweat from his nose and powered on, undeterred by the ripple of laughter in the room.
"Today's activity," he announced dramatically, "will test your brains, your teamwork, and your ability to survive the insane demands of a construction site under pressure!"
He pointed theatrically to a long line of tables at the center of the room. Each was stacked with boxes containing popsicle sticks, glue, string, rubber bands, blueprints—and a large ticking timer projected on the screen above.
"You'll form groups of four," he continued, rubbing his hands together. "Your mission: construct a mini-bridge using the materials provided and the blueprint included. But—" he paused, eyes gleaming, "your kits are incomplete."
Groans erupted from around the room.
"That's right," he grinned. "To finish your bridge, you'll need to negotiate, trade, or entertain your way to the missing pieces. Need extra glue? Serenade me. Missing rubber bands? Give me a salsa I'll remember. Amuse me, and you shall be rewarded."
Rue turned to Charlotte, who was already stretching like she was prepping for a gymnastics routine.
"And make it spicy!" Sir Matt added with a suggestive brow wiggle. "The first half of the teams to complete a bridge that passes the stress test will be excused from cleanup duties and rewarded with the ultimate prize—the afternoon off. Free time! Hammocks. Mango shakes. Ocean dips. No sweeping, no folding chairs."
That got everyone's attention.
A beat of silence followed.
"Okay children," he clapped. "Group yourselves into fours. Let the chaos begin."
And with that, the room broke into a flurry of motion as people scrambled to form teams. Since there were already four of them—Rue, Charlotte, Jason, and Elijah—they naturally stuck together.
"Right," Charlotte said, hands on hips. "I'm not touching any glue. But if you guys need anything from Sir Matt, I'd be delighted to help."
"Let's… maybe not do that," Rue muttered, already sensing incoming chaos.
Jason chuckled. "Please don't encourage her."
"What?" Charlotte blinked innocently. "Sir Matt loves me."
Each group moved toward the center of the room to pick up a supply box. At their table, the gang dumped out their contents and began sorting through the materials. Elijah unfolded a partial blueprint showing the top frame of the bridge, along with ten rubber bands, a lighter (why?), popsicle sticks, and a small square of cardboard.
"The other team must have the second half of the blueprint," Jason said, already scanning the room.
"And they'll probably want something we've got in return," Rue added, narrowing her eyes.
"We're missing glue sticks," Elijah noted, flipping the box upside down just to be sure.
Charlotte rolled up her sleeves like she was preparing for a talent show. "Step aside, peasants. I was born for this."
"Oh no," Rue groaned.
"Do whatever it takes, baby!" Jason called after her, blowing her a dramatic kiss.
Charlotte winked. "Wish me luck."
Jason gathered a couple of rubber bands and a few popsicle sticks, tucking them into a paper cup. "Alright, I'll go charm the other team and hunt down the rest of the blueprint."
Rue raised an eyebrow. "Wait, let me take a picture of the blueprint. Maybe I can help—" but before she could finish, Jason had already vanished into the hyped crowd.
Elijah, who had been quietly examining the partial blueprint, spoke up. "Never mind. I think I recognize this design. It's a Petit Truss bridge. I can start building it, but we'll need more sticks. Tell Charlotte we also need more popsicle sticks."
It was the first time Rue had heard him say more than a few words, and for a moment, she thought she was imagining it. As she made her way through the crowd, she spotted Charlotte center stage, preparing to present herself to the moderator.
Charlotte stood confidently at the center of the makeshift stage, the tropical sun casting a warm glow through the open-air conference room. With a dramatic flourish, she bowed deeply to Sir Matt, who raised an amused eyebrow.
"Sir Matt," she began, her voice ringing out with theatrical flair, "our team finds itself in dire need of additional popsicle sticks and stick glue to complete our architectural masterpiece."
Sir Matt leaned on his megaphone, a playful smirk on his face. "And what, pray tell, are you willing to offer in exchange for these coveted treasures?"
Without missing a beat, Charlotte launched into an impromptu performance. She executed a series of cartwheels across the stage, her movements fluid and graceful. As she landed the final one, she struck a pose and began to sing a spirited rendition of "I Will Always Love You." What she lacked in technical skill, she made up for with enthusiasm.
The audience erupted into laughter and applause, clearly entertained by her antics. Sir Matt clapped along, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Rue was just relieved it was over.
"Bravo, Charlotte!" he exclaimed. "For your outstanding display of talent and team spirit, I hereby award you ten additional popsicle sticks and 1 stick glue."
Charlotte curtsied dramatically, accepting the sticks with a triumphant grin. "Thank you, kind sir. Our bridge shall stand tall and proud, thanks to your generosity."
As she made her way back to her team, she couldn't help but wink at Rue. "See? I told you Sir Matt loves me."
They settled into their seats. Elijah focused on assembling the bridge, his brows furrowed in concentration. Rue held the lighter, the small flame casting a warm glow as she carefully softened the glue on the popsicle sticks. The scent of heated adhesive mingled with the salty sea breeze wafting through the open windows. Jason was still nowhere to be found, his absence growing more conspicuous by the minute.
"This won't do," Elijah murmured, examining the sparse pile of sticks. "We need more."
Charlotte groaned beside them, stretching her arms with a wince. "I think I pulled a muscle. Am I that old?"
Rue and Elijah laughed, a quiet, knowing kind of laughter that came with the residue of old memories. Their eyes met, and in that moment, the air seemed to crackle with something unspoken—half amusement, half dare.
"I'm doing the building," Elijah said, his voice measured, almost too composed. A faint smile played on his lips, but it was clearly a deflection.
Rue raised an eyebrow, nudging him with her shoulder. "But you used to dance, didn't you?"
There was mischief in her voice, laced with nostalgia. She remembered—he had been that guy. The one who surprised everyone by tearing up the stage at the senior year variety show, moving with precision and swagger to Madcon's Beggin'. Girls swooned. Even she'd stolen a few songs off his playlist back then, just to feel a little closer.
Elijah didn't respond immediately. He shifted, focusing instead on pressing a popsicle stick into the structure. "Everyone's supposed to contribute," he said at last, tone light but with an edge—like there was something he wasn't ready to reopen.
It was strange, how someone could be both familiar and unfamiliar in the same breath. Maybe time had shaped them into new versions of themselves—people they hadn't yet fully introduced to each other.
Rue leaned back, feigning innocence. "And I'm not even supposed to be part of the activity. If you guys lose, you'll do the cleanup. I can get away with it."
"Hey, I am not doing cleanup," Charlotte groaned, rubbing her shoulder. "Ruru, do something."
Rue scratched her forehead, Charlotte's words stirring a wave of nostalgia. She had once been the leader during group projects, with Charlotte always tagging along. As class president, she was the problem solver, mediator, and top achiever. She knew everyone in class, even paying attention to the most reclusive students.
When Elijah transferred to their school, he knew no one except his equally shy cousin. Rue often offered them a spot in her group, and that's how they became close.
But now, those days felt distant. She no longer felt inclined to save the day; perhaps she didn't believe in herself anymore. After her mother passed, she blamed herself, thinking she could've done something to prevent it. Ever since, she'd become isolated. Charlotte had kept her sane during the darkest times, but ever since, Rue focused solely on herself, trying to stay away from her father and relatives.
With a sigh, she looked at the stage where Sir Matt sat, entertained by a participant beatboxing. She pitied herself, but her pride wouldn't allow it. She was strong and would confront her fears if she had to. Gathering her resolve, she shook her head and decided she was going to save the day, just like always.
As she was about to make her way toward the stage, Elijah gently grabbed her wrist, concern in his eyes and a soft expression.
"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing the tremors and sweat on her hand. His voice was low but tender, enough to cut through her nerves. For a moment, he looked familiar—the Elijah she knew from high school, the one who understood her. She steadied her breathing.
"Just nerves," Rue said, forcing a smile as she swallowed hard. She pulled her hand away and wiped the sweat from her palm. "I'm about to save the day."
"Not alone, you won't," Elijah said, his piercing brown eyes serious, jaw tightening with determination. His shoulders were broad and strong—just what she needed.
Rue's heart fluttered. She managed a smile, nodded at him, and together, they stepped onto the stage.