by Jamie Howard
Oh, so we’re friends now? I’ll take it.
“The Yankees? Please. The Braves are where it’s at.”
“The Braves?” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, it’s been what? Twenty years since they won the World Series? Not really something to brag about.”
I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. “Someone knows their stuff.”
Her expression tightens and the wide smile she’s been comfortably wearing fades away. “I used to watch a lot of baseball with my dad.”
My heart sinks with how sad her words are. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“No, it’s not that. He’s fine. I just haven’t seen him in a while.” For the first time today she won’t meet my gaze. After a few uncomfortable seconds, she clears her throat and nods toward her computer. “Almost done?”
Taking a hint, I swing the chair back around, tap a few last buttons, and push the chair back, getting to my feet.
“All good.”
She slips by me and folds herself back into the chair. “Thanks so much. Apparently I’ve already got e-mails I need to be reading and projects I need to be working on. Don’t want to get behind the eight ball on my first day.”
“Anytime. Your technology woes are mine to fix.”
For God’s sake, are these words really coming out of my mouth?
Luckily she laughs instead of giving me the side-eye. I hesitate, caught between bailing for the safety of my keypad-guarded IT room and putting myself out there, even if it’s just the tiniest step forward. I still haven’t convinced myself to take a chance on someone new since things went up in flames with Stacy.
Now or never.
“Uh, Haley? Since we’re, um, friends and you’re new, if you wanted to, uh, eat lunch with me later, in the cafeteria, I’d be available for that.”
Have I mentioned how smooth I am?
She pinches her lips together to hide her smile, and she’s pretty subtle about it, but I can see her stop and look at me. Her eyes scroll from the top of my neatly styled hair to the soles of my black dress shoes. Hold on, is she checking me out?
“I’d really like that.” Her lips finally curve into the grin she’s been fighting.
Somewhere inside someone cued up The Mexican Hat Dance and is shaking the maracas, but realistically, a part of me is wondering whether she’s one of those girls. The ones who are too nice to say no. Christ, even though she’s been nothing but sweet to me, now I’m thinking about Stacy again and comparing them. Wondering if I’ve learned my lesson enough not to go down the same road again.
I opt to go with enthusiasm and save the pity party for later. Words start tumbling out of my mouth without the go-ahead from my brain: “Awesome. Let me give you my number. I’ve got like three of them—work, work cell, regular cell. Should I give you all three? Or maybe you should give me yours?” I snap my mouth together and fight the urge to bang my head with the heel of my hand. Hastily, I try to recover and play it cool. “I mean we’re just going downstairs so you can always send me an e-mail or just swing by the IT room. You know where that is?”
Laughter dances in her eyes. It seems genuine though, not like she’s laughing at me. “How about you come get me when you’re ready to get some food. I don’t think I’m going to be wandering too far from my cubicle.”
“Right. That works for me.”
“I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“Unless you have a computer emergency before then.”
“Right, well let’s hope not.”
My mouth curves up in a halfhearted smile. Even though she just agreed to have lunch with me, I can’t help but wonder if she meant she didn’t want her computer to crap out in the next few hours or if she didn’t want to see me before then.
Chapter 4
Haley
Coffee scalds my tongue, singeing my throat on the way down. The fiery heat settles in my stomach, but barely spreads any farther than that. I shiver underneath my sweater, readjusting my space heater with a toe so that it’s practically pumping hot air up my pants. You’d think after being here a full week my body would start adjusting to the cold. Well, you’d be wrong.
I skim another e-mail before typing out a quick reply. Or semi-quick. My fingers are only so cooperative when they’re about as bendable as matchsticks.
A feminine giggle drifts my way, perking my ears. With a quick shove against the floor, I let my chair glide over to the edge of my cubicle so I can peek around the side.
Cubicles stretch out in a long row in front of me, the gray panels not creating much contrast against the slightly less gray walls. Somewhere down the hallway there must be a window, because a small square of light dances across the, you guessed it, gray carpet. About halfway between my desk and the sunlight, a woman props her hip against her cubicle wall. She’s mid- to late twenties with dark red hair, and equally dark lipstick staining her lips. There are maybe one too many buttons undone on her blouse to be considered decent for the workplace, and as I watch, she lets out another throaty laugh at whatever or whoever’s inside her cube.
My mind shuffles through the names and faces that were thrown at me on my first day. It’s something with an S. Stephanie? No. Scarlett, Sherri … Sabrina. That’s it.
She steps back, but only enough to let Kyle squeeze by while still brushing against her. Seeing him makes my lips quirk into an instant smile. Everyone here is friendly; Mr. Marchelli, or Mr. March as everyone calls him, is easy to work with, and the work itself isn’t anything I can’t handle, but Kyle is definitely the bright spot in my days. There’s nothing worse than being the new girl at a place and being forced to eat your paper-bag lunch huddled at your desk.
With a quick step backward, Kyle almost stumbles into the wall, but his smile never fluctuates. He misses it since he turns away, but I get an eyeful of the way Sabrina grins after him, her eyes taking a long, slow sweep down his body. I duck back into my cube as he heads my way. A few seconds later there’s a quick tap-tap against my wall and I’m greeted with his bright smile up close and personal.
He continues to drum his fingers. “So, lunch?”
“Yup, just let me…” I wrap up the e-mail I’m writing and hit Send. “Alright, let’s go.”
It’s only been a handful of times, but we’ve already fallen into a routine—he swings by my desk around twelve thirty and we ride the elevator down to the cafeteria together. We each go our separate ways to buy our lunches and then meet back at the same table, the one that’s off to the side and partially hidden by this palm-tree-looking plant. The first day was a little awkward, trying to feel each other out, getting to know each other. By the third day, the conversation was flowing so easily that we accidentally talked twenty minutes past our allotted lunch break. Oops.
Today’s lunch features a lovely Caesar salad with soggy croutons and wilted lettuce. Picking at it with the plastic tines of my fork, I ask, “So, what’s up with you and Sabrina?”
Kyle promptly chokes on his sandwich. He clears his throat. “Sabrina in Accounting?”
“Is there another Sabrina?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then yes, Sabrina-in-Accounting.” I roll my eyes at him.
He shrugs. “Nothing’s going on. I mean, other than the fact that she can’t remember how to reset her password for her life.”
Something inside of me eases, but I don’t let myself contemplate why all of a sudden I’m feeling the tiniest bit relieved that there’s nothing going on between them. It’s definitely not because I’m interested in Kyle. I’m not, am I? I glance across the table at him and a tiny dimple peeks out from his left cheek as he looks back at me.
“What? Do I have mayonnaise on my face or something?” He dabs at his cheek with a napkin.
I snap my eyes back to my plate. Alright, so there’s definitely something there. Maybe. Kinda like that tickle in the back of your nose you get when you think you might need to sneeze, but you’re not entirely sure. And if
it weren’t for Tara making me doubt myself, and this five-dates thing, I might encourage the feeling and see where it goes. Then again, workplace romances are almost always a bad idea.
“Earth to Haley?” Kyle waves his hand in front of my face.
“Sorry. No mayo.” I pop a crouton in my mouth. “Is it the whole working-together thing?”
He blinks at me, his sandwich frozen in mid-motion to his mouth. “Is … what?”
Belatedly I realize the question that popped out of my mouth had more to do with my thoughts than our actual conversation. No wonder he’s confused. “I was just wondering if it’s the whole coworker thing that’s the issue. I mean, I know some people are really against dating someone you work with because it can get really uncomfortable if things don’t work out.”
Uncomfortable—kinda like this.
His mouth opens, but then he shuts it again without actually saying anything.
I take a quick sip from my water through the red-striped straw, trying to refresh my suddenly dry mouth. “Sorry, what I meant was: Is that one of your rules? Not dating coworkers?”
Actually, that’s definitely not what I meant. Not at all. I specifically meant to ask him if he hasn’t asked Sabrina out yet because they work together and that could be awkward. Except, I’m definitely more interested in hearing his answer to this question instead.
Chapter 5
Kyle
What is happening?
We were talking about Sabrina, then Haley was looking really hard at my mouth, and now she’s asking me about my policy on dating coworkers? I’d one-hundred-percent believe her question is related to the issue of Sabrina if it weren’t for that brief stop at my lips in the middle. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope her question had something to do with her instead.
I finally find my voice. “I’ve never dated someone I worked with in the past, but it’s not like I wouldn’t consider it. In the future.”
I watch her carefully, but her expression barely changes at all. She nods and sticks a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. “I guess that’s good news then.” She covers her mouth with her hand to add, “For Sabrina.”
My heart droops a little. “Why Sabrina?”
She grins at me, and whatever weirdness was just circulating in the air between us completely vanishes. “You’re kidding, right? You really haven’t picked up on the way she looks at you?”
I lean back in my chair and fold my hands behind my neck. “Honestly? I can’t say that I’ve paid all that much attention.”
Haley cocks an eyebrow at me. “Not your type?”
I shrug, trying to bring a picture of Sabrina up in my head. She’s got dark hair, right? “Not really.”
“Alright.” Haley wipes her hands on a napkin and then tosses it into her half-empty salad container. “So what is Kyle Lawson’s type?”
Scratching a hand through my hair, I twist my lips to the side. “I’m not sure I have a ‘type.’” I air-quote the word.
“Every guy has a type.” She scoots her chair in a little closer and leans her elbows on the table. “C’mon, spill.”
Alright, so we’re actually going to do this. “I guess … I don’t know, I like brunettes. I like girls who are nice, funny. Bonus points if we have similar taste in music or movies or if she has a thing for board games.”
Haley frowns at that last one so I wave it away with my hand.
“Um, a pretty smile. Legs, I’m definitely partial to a nice pair of legs.” Oh God, I’m rambling. Eyes front, do not look at Haley’s legs. “I don’t know.” I blow out a breath. “I try not to break women down into their components; I look at the big picture. I look for that … spark.” My eyes drift up to meet hers and without me even realizing it, one corner of my mouth curves up in a smile. “Doesn’t hurt if she happens to be a fan of baseball.”
A smile creeps across her face slowly, one tiny centimeter at a time. The entire time her gaze stays locked on to mine, and that spark I was just talking about? Yeah, it’s sizzling right through me.
She leans a little closer. “As long as she’s not a Mets fan, right?”
“Well…” I draw the word out like it’s got twelve “l”s tacked on to the end of it. “Depending on the person I might be persuaded to make an exception.”
That gets her to laugh, but a second later it’s replaced with a frown. Reaching into her purse, she fishes out her cell phone and squints at the screen.
She groans. “Tell me today isn’t Friday.”
“You may be the first person I’ve ever heard complain about that.”
“I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for my stupid roommate.” Haley blows out a breath. “I’ve got a date tonight.”
I freeze my smile in place, since all of a sudden it’s ready to disappear. “Again, not the typical response.”
“I know, I should be excited, right? And I am, kind of. But it’ll be the first real date that I’ve been on since I broke up with my ex, and well, I can’t say that I’ve ever been a huge fan of online dating.”
There are so many things in those few sentences that are making my brain spin. “You met this guy online?”
“Yes?” She grimaces, and her nose scrunches up in a way that makes her look fricken adorable. “It’s my roommate’s fault. She thinks I need to get out there more so we made this deal that I have to go on five dates that she sets up. She picks the guys, arranges the dates, and I just have to show up.” Her head finds its way down into her hands and she shakes it, the tips of her long brown hair brushing against the table. “I never should have agreed to it, but it’s just five dates, right?” She bounces her gaze back to mine, looking for reassurance.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, technically, you could have the whole thing over within a week if you really wanted to.” My fingers tap out an anxious rhythm against the fabric of my pants. “Is there a uh, particular reason for these five dates?”
“Tara thinks I need more experience.”
I try not to let it, but my mind takes an immediate dive into the gutter.
And it must show on my face because in the next instant Haley blurts out, “Dating experience, not…” Her face flames bright red. “Not that.” She grabs her phone again. “Oh, look at that. Lunch is over.”
She’s out of her seat and hustling across the cafeteria before my brain even comes back online and I get my legs working. Hurrying, I just manage to slip through the elevator doors before they close.
The elevator lurches up, but it takes a few seconds for Haley to drag her gaze off of the floor and to finally meet mine. Her teeth sink into her lower lip; I pinch my lips together. And then we’re both laughing.
Through laughs I manage to say, “The look on your face.”
“My face?” She snorts. “You should have seen yours.”
With a whoosh, the doors slide open, and I stick one arm across them, letting her exit in front of me. This is typically where we part ways, but I slip a hand around her arm, drawing her attention. “Come with me for a second?”
She tilts her head to the side in question, but follows after me. I stop outside the IT room just long enough to punch in the code, then push through inside. The door closes behind Haley, but I’ve got my attention focused on the Post-it in front of me.
Ripping it off, I toss my pen back on my desk, and pass the little yellow square over to her. “It’s my number. Just my regular cell.”
She laughs, clearly remembering her first day here when I tried to load her down with all my numbers and my e-mail address just so we could go to lunch together.
I fold my arms across my chest, then change my mind and rub one hand over my other arm. “I’m sure everything will be fine tonight, but just in case, if anything feels off or I don’t know, well you’ve got my number. You can call me if you need me.”
Her eyes go soft, her smile deepening. “That’s really sweet of you.”
“Yeah, well.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “I’ve got a little sister and I hope
someone would do the same for her.”
Did I seriously just compare Haley to my sister? Why yes, yes I did.
A small frown works its way across her lips, digging a small V in her forehead. “Well, thanks for this.” She holds up the Post-it and then slips it in her purse. The door drifts shut behind her, but she catches it with one hand. “Have a nice weekend, Kyle.”
I force my face to bust out a smile. “You too.”
Just, maybe, not too good of a weekend.
Chapter 6
Haley
Tara pops her head through my bedroom door as I’m fastening on some fake diamond studs. She bounces on the balls of her UGG-clad feet. “So, are you excited?”
I shrug, battling down the little beasts that are swarming in my stomach. “Kind of.”
Delia brushes by Tara and plops on my bed, making herself at home on my pastel purple down comforter. “I still think it’s a bad idea. Online dating never ends well. Trust me. Isn’t there someone in real life you could go out with? I mean, you just started a new job, there aren’t any hot guys there?”
My mind immediate flashes to Kyle, but I don’t get a chance to respond.
“Please,” Tara says. “Like workplace romances are ever a good idea.”
“Says the girl I’m dating, who I met in class.” Delia rolls her eyes, but her lips are set in a playful smile.
“Work and class are not the same thing.”
“Close enough.”
They stare at each other, eyes twinkling in silent argument.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “Brown boots or black?” I hold up both pairs toward them.
At the same time Tara says, “Black,” Delia says, “Brown.” This time they’re arguing not so silently. I glance down at myself—medium-wash skinny jeans and a burgundy blouse.
While they continue to debate it out, I grab my phone and shoot off a quick text.
Me: Brown or black?
A few seconds later my phone buzzes.
Clark: Always black.
