Chapter 41: FYI: I Outpitched You
Chapter Seven
Callie hated how easily Roman’s grin had slipped under her skin. Not because he was charming—he absolutely was—but because he was part of Catalyst. And that made him dangerous.
Still, the week pressed forward. Tuesday morning brought a blur of coffee cups, marker fumes, and adrenaline.
Beacon & Wren’s conference room buzzed as Callie led the charge. She stood before the team with sleeves rolled, hair twisted into a low bun, and three prototype sketches taped to the glass wall behind her.
“Alright,” she said, tapping one with her stylus, “we turn a campus quad into a VitaRush pop-up zone. Think obstacle course, timer challenges, hydration checkpoints. Win swag, post content, build hype.”
Peyton leaned forward. “What about digital tie-in?”
“TikTok challenge,” Callie said. “Rush Face filter. Tag three friends. Add your timer score. VitaRush reposts the top videos of the day. Builds momentum and user-generated content.”
A chorus of nods.
It was a solid plan.
Still, Callie felt... off.
The anonymous message from yesterday hovered in her mind like static. She hadn’t told Peyton about it. Not yet. Not until she figured out where it came from.
Across town, the Catalyst Media office was just as alive.
Miles stood at a sleek black table surrounded by his team. A digital rendering of their “Rush Room” hovered on the touchscreen monitor.
“This is the entrance,” he said, swiping right. “They get a wristband, enter the space, and face three rush-themed challenges—speed, strategy, sensory.”
“Interactive leaderboard,” Elise added. “And we partner with fitness influencers to demo it in real time.”
Miles nodded. “We want people to feel like this brand is an experience—not just a drink.”
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “You seem weirdly Zen today. I figured you'd be pacing over last week.”
Miles shrugged. “What’s done is done. And I’ve still got five weeks to crush it.”
Just then, Roman strolled in, like he owned the place.
He dropped into a nearby chair without asking. “Nice sketchpad work,” he said casually. “Your competition’s got style.”
Miles’s brow ticked. “You talked to Callie?”
Roman smirked. “Bumped into her. Literally. She’s clever. Not hard on the eyes either.”
Elise raised an eyebrow. “You’re not seriously going to flirt with someone from Beacon & Wren, are you?”
Roman leaned back in his chair. “Why not? It’s not like she’s off-limits. Right, Miles?”
Miles didn’t answer right away. He focused on the display screen, jaw tightening slightly.
Elise looked between them. “Wait—do you two have history?”
Roman shrugged with a grin. “Maybe. Depends on what you call history.”
Elise tilted her head toward Miles. “You know what he’s talking about?”
Miles sighed through his nose, quiet but heavy. “Freshman year. We were... close. Then things changed.”
Roman nodded slowly. “Tragic, really. Could’ve been something.”
Elise's eyes narrowed, her gaze locked on Miles. “You okay with him pursuing her?”
“I’m not her gatekeeper,” Miles said, keeping his voice even. “She can date whoever she wants.”
“Even your stepbrother?” she muttered under her breath.
Miles didn’t flinch, but the muscle in his jaw ticked again.
Elise caught it and smirked. “Thought so.”
\---
By mid-afternoon, Callie sat in the corner booth of the breakroom, scrolling through campaign assets on her tablet. The sharp ding of her inbox broke her rhythm.
New Message: Anonymous
Subject: Tick Tock
Body: Hope you’re ready to lose this time. :)
That emoji.
Her blood ran cold.
It was the same one the ex-girlfriend had always used in group chats back in college—the one that had showed up in that final message just before Callie’s storyboard was “accidentally” replaced.
She shut her tablet. Her fingers trembled slightly.
No way this was a coincidence.
\---
Later that day, both agencies received a calendar notification from the VitaRush coordinator.
Subject: Thursday—Soft Preview Session
Details: Each team will present a 10-minute preview of their Week Two concept. Quick Q&A and feedback from the opposing team. Attendance is mandatory.
Peyton groaned audibly. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Forced collab?”
Callie scrolled through the invite. “Guess we’ll see what they’re working on.”
“And give them a peek at our work too,” Peyton muttered.
\---
Thursday came faster than expected.
Callie stood near the front of the makeshift presentation space, nerves humming beneath her blazer. The Beacon & Wren mockup stood ready—photos, overlays, a short animation. She glanced across the room where Miles leaned against a column, arms crossed.
When it was their turn, she stepped forward.
“Our concept builds from the theme ‘Fuel Your Rush,’” she began. “We’re launching a traveling experience tied directly to community energy—college campuses, athletic centers, places where the pulse never slows.”
She walked them through the obstacle run, the hydration stations, the filter challenge.
When she was done, Miles stepped forward, expression unreadable.
“Honestly?” he said. “It’s strong. Engaging. Very on-brand.”
She blinked. “Thank you.”
“But,” he added, “you might lose crowd traction if the physical component overshadows the shareability.”
Callie crossed her arms. “We’ve considered that. The social triggers are layered in. Subtle but intentional.”
He gave her a nod. “Then I look forward to seeing it play out.”
She stepped back. Confused. He was complimenting her again. Genuinely.
When Catalyst presented next, Callie watched with critical eyes. The Rush Room was slick, polished, and undeniably compelling. She hated how good it was.
And how good he was.
\---
That evening, Callie left the office with her sketchpad tucked beneath her arm. Her thoughts were a tangle—Roman, Miles, the anonymous emails, and this maddening pressure to prove herself all over again.
As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, her phone buzzed.
New Message: Roman
Drinks later? I’m intrigued. Let’s see what else you’re good at.
She stared at the message, heart ticking a little faster.
A second buzz followed—this time from an unknown sender.
New Message: Unknown
Nice pitch today. But you always play fair... don’t you, Callie?
She looked up suddenly, half-expecting to see someone watching her from the shadows.
But the street was empty.
The week was far from over.
And something told her the real game hadn’t even started yet.