Ethan took the bottle from the table, its matte finish cool against his fingers, and brought it to his lips. The drink hit his tongue with a fizzy rush that tingled sharply, almost playfully. It was bold and vibrant, a burst of tropical tang with a hint of citrus. Not overly artificial, but definitely engineered—like something designed to wake you up, to energize you with flavor alone. There was a slight aftertaste, clean and lingering. But under it all was the unmistakable taste profile that couldn't be denied.
Too sweet.
He hadn't said it out loud yet, but the thought lingered. Still, he hesitated. As he lowered the bottle, Bill's voice cut through the moment.
"So, how is it?"
Ethan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shifted slightly, about to respond. "Uhm—"
Before he could gather his words, his eyes landed on Max and Trey, standing a few feet ahead. They weren't just watching—they were watching. Eyes locked, expressions brimming with anticipation. The kind of look that said: This could be our moment. Say something good. Please.
Ethan faltered.
"It's uhm..."
He trailed off, tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth. He didn't want to lie. The drink had merit. It was refreshing, had a decent mouthfeel, the branding was clean, the presentation—professional. But...
Before he could articulate anything else, another voice entered the fray, unfiltered and immediate.
"It's too sweet."
Rebecca.
Of course it was.
Ethan turned slightly to see her approaching, arms folded, expression unreadable except for that trademark sharp edge. Max and Trey both flinched. Trey especially looked like someone had just insulted his entire family lineage.
"Well, thank goodness we didn't ask you," he snapped, voice rising with more bite than he'd intended. Even Max, standing beside him, instinctively nudged his friend with a wide-eyed expression that screamed what the hell are you doing?
The room shifted.
Ethan's brows lifted in surprise. It wasn't just Rebecca who was blunt now. Trey had actually given it back. Not many people had the nerve to challenge her like that. And oddly... Ethan didn't entirely disagree with him.
Yes, Rebecca was harsh—too harsh sometimes—but it came from a place of loyalty. She had always fought to protect Ethan's brand, sometimes more fiercely than he could himself. And yet, Trey had a point. It was their drink. He had every right to defend his work, his vision, his effort.
But Ethan couldn't let the tension escalate. Not in this setting.
He put the drink down with a soft clink and said firmly, "Well... I also feel it's too sweet."
Silence.
All eyes turned to him.
"And," Ethan continued, leveling a gaze at the group, "this is a professional meeting. Let's keep it that way."
Trey's posture softened immediately. He exchanged a quick look with Max before turning to Rebecca.
"Yes, and I apologize for my outburst," he said, voice level but sincere.
Ethan nodded approvingly, then looked to Rebecca. His tone sharpened just slightly, not unkind, but commanding.
"Be professional."
She met his gaze. For a moment, her eyes narrowed—searching, maybe even a little surprised. But then, with a small sigh, she relented.
"No, it's fine. I also apologize for my tone," she said, her voice still cool but measured.
Ethan smiled. "Good."
Across the room, Bill leaned back in his chair, arms folded, watching. There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. Ethan had handled that well—better than expected, perhaps. The exchange had shown leadership, emotional intelligence, and tact. Bill had underestimated him, and now he knew it.
He decided to chime in.
"Yes, I also felt it was too sweet," Bill added casually, as if tossing in a comment about the weather.
Max and Trey turned toward him with almost cartoonish expressions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt.
Bill chuckled lightly. "Don't get me wrong, fellas. The drink is nice. Just... a little on the sweet side."
Rebecca nodded quickly. "Yes. Exactly."
she leaned forward, her tone calm and genuinely curious. "So, just to clarify," she began, looking directly at both Max and Trey, "the targeted audience for this drink... is who, exactly? Sports people and kids? Even Ethan's demographic, right?"
Max nodded eagerly. "Yes! Definitely. Teens, athletes, gym-goers. Basically anyone who wants something clean and refreshing."
Trey chimed in. "Exactly. That whole high-energy, health-conscious, image-aware crowd."
Rebecca nodded slowly, then took another small sip. Her lips pressed together thoughtfully. "It's too sweet."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, and Bill blinked. That wasn't as harsh as he expected. And she was right.
Max leaned in, confused. "But we didn't use any sugar. It's all natural sweeteners. Monk fruit and erythritol."
Trey added, "And don't young people like sweet stuff? Like, the sweeter the better, right?"
Rebecca tilted her head. "Normally, yes. That would be true. But not when they want to believe they're being healthy or trying to make a change. It's subconscious. You can't just give them what they think they want. You have to match what they believe they should want."
She tapped her nail against the bottle lightly. "There's a line to walk. Sweet enough that it doesn't turn off the kids, but not so sweet that athletes or image-conscious youth feel it's indulgent. You need a balance. A fine one."
She gave them a pointed look. "You guys really do need a marketing team. This is still rooted in PR, you know that, right?"
Max and Trey looked at each other, nodding quickly, suddenly much more humble. "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense," Max muttered.
Ethan blinked at Rebecca, then looked at Bill, who looked... impressed? Ethan was impressed too. This wasn't her being difficult. She was actually helping. And doing it with precision.
Then Max tapped Trey on the arm. "Bring the other ones," he said.
"Oh! Yes!" Trey lit up and reached into a duffel bag under the table.
To Rebecca and Ethan's surprise, four more bottles appeared on the table, each with a different label color and scent wafting from the caps as Trey lined them up. "These are the other four flavors," Max announced proudly. "Grape, Orange, Lemon Lime, and Tropical Punch. The one you guys had earlier was Blue Raspberry."
Rebecca and Ethan both stared, slightly stunned.
"You made five?" Ethan asked.
"Of course," Trey grinned. "Gotta have variety."
They passed the bottles around. One by one, everyone took a sip. Grape was bold and sweet. Orange leaned into citrus zest. Lemon Lime was sharp but refreshing. Tropical Punch was... confusing.
After each taste, Max and Trey did something curious. They turned to Rebecca.
"How was it?"
Rebecca blinked. Then smirked. "Okay. Grape's too strong. Tone it down, or it'll feel like candy. Orange is solid. Maybe lean into a bit more of a natural zest profile—make it feel like it came from actual oranges. Lemon Lime is close to perfect. Clean, crisp, not too sweet. Tropical Punch..." She paused, brow furrowed. "What exactly is in that?"
Max scratched his head. "Uh... pineapple, passionfruit, cherry, mango, and... something blue."
"It tastes like confusion and poor decisions at a beach party," Rebecca said dryly.
Bill snorted. Ethan bit back a laugh. Max and Trey looked mortified, but only for a second.
"Okay then," Max said, clapping his hands. "We'll make the changes and get back to you. Got it."
They stood, shaking hands with Ethan, then Bill, and lastly, Rebecca.
"Thank you, especially to you," Trey said, sounding sincere.
As they stepped outside the restaurant, they were already deep in conversation.
"I didn't know marketing teams were that important," Trey muttered.
"Right?" Max replied. "That chick just made me rethink everything."
"What about the other ones though?" Trey asked nervously. "We already made, like, thousands of bottles of this formula. How are we supposed to fix that? We don't even have money to make more batches."
Max gave him a look. "We go all in. Call our families. Borrow what we can. This is the moment. It has to hit. We change the taste accordingly."
Trey hesitated. "And the ones we already made?"
Max grinned wickedly. "We're not trashing it. Talking to Rebecca opened up a whole new way of thinking for me. I've been looking at marketing all wrong."
He slapped Trey's back. "With the old ones? Easy. We spin it as a limited-time, pre-launch promo batch. 'Before the Final Formula.' It'll sell just off the exclusivity."
His eyes sparkled with a sudden fire, already seeing the campaign play out in his mind.
Then something caught his eye.
A sleek convoy of black SUVs rolled up in front of the restaurant. Security stepped out, followed by a tall man dressed in designer black and flanked by a small entourage of young girls, some holding phones, others squealing.
Max froze.
"Isn't that—"
A/N
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