Page 56 of Mutual Discord

“Exactly,” I exclaimed. “Some of the women I’ve researched have made profound discoveries in science and mathematics, but others have used their ingenuity to make our lives easier. And I think those inventions deserve to be celebrated, too.”

Camila beamed a bright smile. “I completely agree, especially as an engineer.”

“Oh, that’s right. Alex mentioned you were an engineer.” I grabbed my backpack and threw it over my shoulders. “What engineering field are you in?”

“Structural.” Camila weaved her arm through mine and directed me toward the trail. “I’m sure it seems boring as hell, but I’ve always been fascinated with not just building design, but how to make them safe. How we construct a bridge or dam or, hell, even a freeway interchange to fit the various environments they’re needed in. And with our country’s dangerously crumbling infrastructure, I sadly think about it all the time.”

“I’m sure,” I murmured. Although I didn’t turn to look, I knew Alex walked close behind us. Knowing he was there made me slightly anxious, but I managed to keep my nerves at bay because Camila was so friendly and easy to chat with. “Do you work for a private company or a municipality?”

Camila and I continued to chat about the complexities of her job before she mentioned an engineer named Emily Warren Roebling, who was behind the completion of the Brooklyn Bridge, and how she thought Roebling would make an excellent subject for a video. And speaking of the Matildas sparked a conversation about what it was like to be a content creator.

“One thing I noticed,” Camila began, carefully navigating over scree on the trail, “is that you seem really comfortable being the type of content creator who focuses on a specific interest and only discusses that interest. You don’t talk about your personal life—heck, you’ve never revealed your real name. Your followers follow you because of the information you share.”

“And because she’s witty as hell,” Alex interjected from behind us. I glanced at him over my shoulder, and he shrugged. “You have great delivery. Anyone could film a video talking about the life of Ada Lovelace, but few people make her come alive quite like you do.”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” I said, turning to face forward again and hoping Alex didn’t notice how my ears turned pink.

“Alex is right, although I’m loath to admit it.” Camila cast her brother a withering look…which was ruined when her lips twitched. “What are your plans for the Matildas? Have you been approached about taking your videos to a larger audience? Maybe even writing a book?”

Just thinking about those possibilities made my stomach twist. “I’ve had a few entertainment agents reach out about representation, but I haven’t responded to them. This series was never supposed to be something serious. I started it, quite inadvertently, as a drunken rant—”

“Wait,” Camila said, laying a hand on my arm. She snatched her sunglasses from her face, her eyes wide. “That first video, about Jocelyn Bell Burnell? You were drunk?”

Snapping my teeth together, I clamped my eyes closed. “Yes.”

“Oh my God, you have to tell me about it.”

So I did. During the next twenty minutes of our climb, I explained to Camila about what led to me going viral on TikTok and the birth of the Matildas. And as it turned out, Camila had her own stories to share about terrible male coworkers. It was a tale as old as time, and when we reached the top of Camelback Mountain, Camila and I had bonded over our experiences with toxic coworkers as Latina women in the workforce.

“After your experience with your old employer, I can understand why you would want to take a break from the corporate world. Social media is its own hellscape, but at least you can turn off your phone to get away from the bullshit.” Camila put a hand to her brow to shield her gaze from the sun as she studied Scottsdale spread out in the valley before us. “But then I’m sure you run into all kinds of weirdos, racists, misogynists, and ableists online. I can imagine what your DMs were like after Alex’s viral video.”

“Ugh.” I faked a shudder as I rubbed sunblock between my palms and spread it along my cheeks. “I actually haven’t looked at my DMs since then. I’ve been too afraid of what’s waiting for me there.”

I was finally considering hiring an assistant to help with content scheduling, answering emails, and, specifically, sorting my DMs, and the more I thought of the sort of messages littering my inbox, the more determined I was to push off that particular chore to someone else.

“Sexually harassing DMs aside, would you ever give up content creation to return to a nine-to-five?” Alex asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth after taking a drink from his water bottle.

“Actually,” I began, trying to sound nonchalant and not at all nervous as hell, “I’m getting together with an old client to discuss…possibilities.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Camila’s head tilt to the side, but I suddenly couldn’t look away from Alex. His mirrored sunglasses blocked his gaze, and yet I still felt captured by his stare. “Sharon Collins?”

He was so sharp.

My head bobbed up and down. “I told Denise about how you said that Sharon had mentioned me, and she encouraged me to send her an email. So I did.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth tipped up. “I can imagine Sharon was thrilled to hear from you.”

“She called me the following morning after I sent the email. Said she was happy to hear from me, and we made plans to get together after Thanksgiving.” My laugh was self-deprecating. “Hopefully second impressions are as memorable as firsts.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Alex said staunchly. “You’re one of the most memorable people I’ve ever known.”

“Oh.” It seemed like such a silly response, but Alex had caught me off guard and my head felt six feet underwater. I glanced at Camila, finding her observing Alex before darting her inquisitive gaze to me. God, I needed to say something. “You’re just saying that because my videos don’t make you feel guilty about scrolling TikTok when you’re supposed to be working.”

“Hey,” Alex cried, clutching at his chest as dramatically as a telenovela star, “the content on my algorithm is between me and God.”

“You, God, and some billion-dollar corporation with no soul and a lust for plebeian blood,” I quipped.

Alex’s bark of laughter sent me into my own fit of giggles, and as I watched his dimple and his white teeth both flash in the bright sunshine, I realized how much I had missed my friend. Because whatever other emotions swelled inconveniently in my chest whenever I looked at Alex, I knew we could only ever be friends.