Chapter 8
By Thursday morning, Jamie had accepted that working under Blake Sterling was going to permanently raise his blood pressure.
Today, it was their team’s turn.
Blake had been doing coaching sessions all week – one department at a time – each one a whirlwind mix of high expectations, creative exercises, and just enough chaos to keep everyone slightly on edge.
Now, it was the writing team’s turn.
Jamie, Ryan, Elise, and Nora sat around the big glass table in one of the reconfigured “collaboration lounges” that had replaced the old, stuffy conference rooms. The walls were covered in sticky notes, mood boards, and caffeine-fueled dreams. In the corner sat a beanbag and a stress ball shaped like a croissant.
Blake arrived with two coffees in hand.
He placed one in front of Jamie without comment.
Latte. Regular milk. Foam. Perfect.
Of course he did.
“All right, team,” Blake said, sleeves rolled, eyes sharp. “Today we’re building a campaign for a new boutique coffee brand called Ritual.”
He tossed a sleek, matte-black bag of coffee beans onto the table.
“Target audience: Millennials and Gen Z. Think artisanal meets authentic. Moody meets modern. It’s called Ritual for a reason – it’s not just coffee. It’s a moment.”
Ryan muttered, “I swear this guy speaks in brand strategy poetry.”
Blake grinned. “Thank you.”
Jamie sipped his coffee, trying to focus and not blush.
Focus. Words. Not his hands. Definitely not his hands.
“We’re not starting with copy,” Blake continued. “We’re starting with your brains.”
Everyone blinked.
“Exercise one: Roleplay,” Blake announced. “Each of you – sell me this coffee as if you’re someone else. Ryan, you’re a surfer who just discovered espresso. Nora, you’re a grandmother with a TikTok account. Elise, you’re an angsty barista who writes slam poetry.”
He paused, smirking.
“Jamie… you’re me.”
Jamie stared. “You?”
“Yep,” Blake said, tossing him the stress croissant. “You’re the charming, brilliant COO with a British accent and a caffeine addiction. Impress me.”
Ryan cackled.
Jamie groaned. “I hate you.”
“You adore me,” Blake replied.
Unfortunately accurate.
The roleplays began – awkward, ridiculous, hilarious. Blake didn’t judge; he joined in. One moment a stressed office worker, the next a pretentious influencer, then a sleep-deprived student clinging to caffeine like it was life support.
The room loosened.
Ideas started landing.
People started laughing.
Then came the curveball.
“All right,” Blake said, tossing a small ball in the air and catching it casually. “New game. We’re crossing words. I’m going to throw this. Whoever catches it has to say a word they associate with coffee. Fast. No overthinking.”
He tossed the ball to Elise. “Bitterness.”
To Ryan. “Morning.”
To Nora. “Steam.”
To Jamie.
“Comfort.”
Blake caught the ball again, something in his expression shifting – just slightly.
“That’s our word,” he said. “Comfort.”
He turned to the board. “New prompt – what does that feel like? What does Ritual have to say about comfort?”
They brainstormed fast, voices overlapping, Blake writing on the whiteboard in quick, confident strokes.
“Coffee that remembers your name.”
“Steam rising, the world slowing down.”
“A moment you make for yourself.”
“Brewed to be held.”
Jamie watched the board fill.
This is actually… good.
And then, the final challenge.
Blake handed out a sheet of paper with a crossword puzzle.
“Now for something quiet. Everyone takes ten. This uses coffee-related language, mood words, emotional triggers. Loosen your minds. Winner gets the next assignment.”
They groaned – but got to work.
Jamie stared at the puzzle, focus snapping into place.
He loved word games.
There was something calming about hunting for language under pressure. Like solving tiny, satisfying mysteries.
The noise around him faded.
Letters. Patterns. Meaning.
He finished in six minutes.
Blake raised an eyebrow when Jamie handed it in. “That fast?”
Jamie shrugged. “I like puzzles.”
Blake glanced over it quickly.
Then looked back up.
“Good,” he said. “Because you just became lead writer on the Ritual campaign.”
Jamie blinked. “Wait. What?”
“You finished first. You nailed the roleplay. Your ‘comfort’ pitch sparked half this board.” Blake tossed him a pen. “You’ve got the voice. The rhythm. And you’re closer to this audience than half the execs upstairs.”
He held Jamie’s gaze.
“It’s yours.”
Jamie choked on his water.
Ryan slapped his back. “Breathe, Capulet.”
Jamie coughed, face burning. “I – I thought this was a group thing.”
“It is,” Blake said, smiling. “But someone has to set the tone. Build the draft.”
A beat.
“And you’re ready.”
Jamie stared at him.
Me?
“You really think I can do it?” he asked, quieter now.
Blake didn’t hesitate.
“I know you can.”
The room went still for a second.
And something shifted.
Because for once…
Jamie wasn’t performing.
Wasn’t guessing.
Wasn’t pretending.
He just… nodded.
“Okay.”
And for the first time in a long time…
It felt real.