by Megan Bryce
“No. I’m French,” she said, then mimicked her friend from yesterday. “And I can charge more if it’s in French.”
“How are you French?”
“My mother was born in France? Ergo, French?”
“Ergo?” He shook his head in defeat. “I’ll give you French-American.”
She chuckled, still trying not to smile and saying, “French-American? What does that make you, Geek-American?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I prefer Geekus Tyrannicus.”
“Geekus Tyrannicus?” She finally broke, her laugh escaping in little huffs, her smile lighting her entire face, her full lips opening slightly, and brown eyes warming.
Flynn’s breath caught and he just stared.
Nicole looked at the expression on his face and the smile disappeared. “Sorry.”
Flynn nodded mindlessly and tried restarting his brain. “Yeah.”
Nicole turned away. “Now you know why I don’t smile.”
He shook his head to clear it. “I can see how having all the men within your vicinity brainless would get old. I mean, you’re gorgeous all the time. But when you smile. . .”
“I know, I look like Nikita.”
And maybe that was it. Maybe having a living, breathing woman look at you just like the poster you’d had taped above your bed while growing up was what it was. Fantasy turned real.
Right here in front of him. Close enough to smell.
Stop sniffing her, you idiot!
Nicole reached across her desk and grabbed a box of Kleenex to hand back to him.
He flushed. “Sorry. I think it’s your perfume.”
“It’s vanilla body wash.”
“Smells good.”
She shook her head. “Just plain vanilla.”
He couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and took a long, long sniff.
He said softly, “Smells good.”
“That’s all I am, Flynn. Vanilla. Even if I look like a Nikita.” At his blank look, she added, “Nikita has a perfume.”
“Ah. You should make one, too. You’d make a fortune.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I’d make a fortune with plain vanilla?”
He’d give her all his money right now if she let him sniff her again. So he said, “Yes.”
She chuckled. “Well, thank you for the store. Maybe it’ll make me that fortune.”
He nodded. “It’s what I’m here for. To do everything, and nothing.”
She cocked her head. “You don’t do nothing. You do everything. Anytime we need anything, we call on you.”
“I thought that was because I did nothing and was available.”
She put her hand on his forearm. “You really think you do nothing here?”
“I have no idea why you hired me.”
She gave him a slight smile. “It’s funny how we think we know what others think of us. I don’t know how this place would stay running without you.”
Flynn digested that. Then said, “You should give me a raise.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
He raised a crooked eyebrow. “Can you guess what I’m thinking about you right now?”
She laughed at him, and maybe Flynn was getting used to his brain short-circuiting because he hardly stopped breathing at all.
She said, “I don’t have to guess what people think of me. I only have to read the tabloids to find out.”
“You don’t have to guess about me either since I already told you. I think you could sell plain old vanilla like it was diamonds, and any minute now I’m going to stop caring you’re not going to give me a raise just because you smell so good.”
She leaned toward him, waving her arm in front of him so he could smell her vanilla body wash, and whispered, “Any minute now?”
Flynn knew that right about here is where Nicole needed to whip out her Resting Bitch Face.
Stop. No. Not welcome.
Right before he did something stupid.
He stared down at her, and she looked up at him. And he was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking about her.
Pretty sure she was getting it right.
And then, she looked away. She cleared her throat. And slowly, sat back in her chair.
I can already tell that between the two of you, there’s no one to make the first move.
Sad thing was, Crazy Beautiful was right.
No one here was going to make the first move.
Flynn decided he’d be philosophical about it. He’d decide it was better this way.
He could look, and sniff, and dream.
And it was better.
Because getting zapped probably wasn’t as much fun as it sounded.
Megan BryceBoring Is The New Black
Thirteen
Flynn made the final touches on the store and Nicole approved it. The product images were uploaded and sizes marked available or sold out.
And then Nicole nodded to him to make it live.
He turned to her, finally, smiling. “Okay. We’re live.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Don’t worry. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
She could think of too many to pick just one but he said, “No one ever knows it’s there and nothing happens.”
“That’s the worst thing you can think of?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She shook her head, telling him to not sleep on his desk again tonight and she’d see him in the morning.
They’d see what the worst thing was tomorrow.
Because she was Nicole Bissette and no one ever knowing that it was there was never going to happen.
Megan BryceBoring Is The New Black
Fourteen
Nicole Bissette, daughter of famed supermodel Nikita, seems to be making a run for. . . something. She held her first NYFW runway only a few days ago and has now expanded her website to include an online store.
Yes, that’s right. You, too, can own this season’s hottest newest well, you can own one of this season’s offerings.
If you hurry, because most items are marked “sold out”.
Here’s a hint to a socialite designer flailing around trying to find a place to plant her feet: next time have the store up before the runway.
Here’s another hint: have product.
Meh. Seen palazzo pants before. I’m not paying $500 to wear Nicole Bissette’s name on my ass.
hahahaha hahahaha hahahaha
Ugh, another wanna-be celebrity designer. Seriously, is there nothing else for them to do?
Megan BryceBoring Is The New Black
Fifteen
Nicole hid behind her desk, her head on her knees and her back digging into a drawer handle and her tears flowing rapidly down her cheeks.
Candy wrappers littered the floor next to her and she kept her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see them.
She heard a knock on her door and ignored it like she’d ignored the half dozen before it, and then her eyes flew open when the door clicked open.
“Nicole?”
She stopped breathing, freezing at Flynn’s voice.
The door closed again but she knew he’d come inside.
She swiped at her cheeks– should have worn waterproof mascara, she was going to look like a raccoon– and then he came around her desk.
He stopped and stared at her, his lips squeezing together.
She looked away, cleared her throat. She was going to tell him to go away and instead said, “I don’t feel well.”
He sat down cross-legged next to her.
He fiddled his thumbs.
He picked up a candy wrapper and twisted it in his fingers.
Nicole said, “Gia said that candy makes everything better.”
Flynn nodded and Nicole clutched her stomach.
“It doesn’t.”
“Ah.”
“I’m going to vomit.”
He made a grab for the wastebasket and shoved it under her chin just in time.
She retched and Flynn pulled her hair back, twisting it in his hand to keep it out of the way.
She coughed and spit and cried and when she was done, she lay down weakly on the carpet, pillowing her head on his thigh.
She moaned. “I think I’m going to OD on candy.”
His hand stroked through her hair and Nicole closed her eyes.
He said, “I wonder if that’s even possible.”
“It feels like it. I don’t think I’d mind too much.”
“I can see the obituary now. Death by Tootsie Roll.”
Nicole said, “Don’t make me laugh.”
“No? Crying’s better?”
She nodded, her ear rubbing against his slacks and he shifted his leg.
They sat there in silence for a long minute, and then Flynn said softly, “What do they know? Really. What do they know?”
Nicole opened her eyes and stared at his cheap black dress shoes. And Darth Vader socks.
“You were right about prêt-à-porter. They called it port-a-pottay.”
His legs shook under her ear and she pushed herself up. “Are you laughing?”
He held his breath, his face turning red, and he shook his head with short, fast shakes.
She raised an eyebrow and he shook faster.
She turned until she was sitting next to him and thumped her back against the leg of the desk.
“It wasn’t funny.”
“It was kind of funny. Mean, but kind of funny. Maybe we should put a footnote underneath port-a-pottay that says, ‘Listen, yo. She’s French-American.’”
She laughed and then swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.
He reached above and behind him, searching for the box of Kleenex and pulling it down for her.
He said, “And maybe you should just consider everything they write about you as free advertising. I came in here to tell you that everything has sold out already.”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes and nose with the Kleenex, and then took a deep breath. “Really?”
He lifted his eyebrows, trying not to grin like a fool.
She tried to smile but it wobbled. And she didn’t know why that made her want to cry.
Flynn lifted his arm, putting it around her shoulders and giving her a friendly squeeze.
She grabbed another Kleenex. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.”
She put her head down on his shoulder and Flynn tried not to think about how good she smelled.
Much.
He cleared his throat quietly. “Want to watch a show? A good laugh will help.”
“Will it?”
“It always makes me feel better.”
“Okay.” She sat up, turning around and propping her back against the wall of cupboards, and Flynn cursed at himself for being so damn stupid.
She said, “But if this turns out like the sugar thing, I’m going to fire you.”
He pulled her laptop onto her chair, twisting it around so they could see and logged in to his account.
He sat down next to her, stretching out his legs.
“I’ve never puked after watching The IT Crowd. I think we’re both okay.”
Nicole covered her mouth quickly, like she’d just remembered. She glanced at the wastebasket, then jumped up to take it over to the door.
She tied the plastic bag up tight, then grabbed a water bottle from a desk drawer and swished and gargled.
She grabbed a piece of gum from her purse, then finally sat down again.
Flynn was sorry to say that she was farther away than she had been.
She said, embarrassed, “Sorry,” and Flynn shrugged. All he’d been smelling the last few minutes had been vanilla.
Hey, it’s really hard to notice anything when Nicole Bissette’s head is in your lap.
They watched the first episode, Nicole relaxing as the canned track laughter made her stop thinking.
And the first time Roy said, “Have you tried turning it off and on again,” Nicole looked at Flynn.
“You say that all the time.”
“It fixes a lot of problems.”
“Do you think it could fix me?”
“There’s nothing to fix.”
“I just ate all that.” She waved her hand at all the wrappers still littering the floor.
“Seems like a normal amount. That’s how much I ate last night for a bedtime snack.”
She chuckled, thought about how she shouldn’t, then chuckled again.
“Liar.”
“I eat this much before dinner, as a warm-up.”
“Then will you take the rest of it when you go?”
“Sure.”
“You’re going to eat it, aren’t you?”
“Won’t even make it to my closet.”
She scooted closer, her shoulder resting lightly against his, and she sighed softly. “You make me laugh.”
“I do?”
Nicole smiled at the screen and Flynn thought there was no shame in making a beautiful woman laugh. Especially when her eyes were still wet from her tears and her makeup had melted down her face.
She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “So which one are you? Roy or Moss?”
“Uhhh. . . Jen?”
Nicole laughed. “No.”
“And you’re the crazy boss who thinks I can build you a voice-activated computer.”
She twisted her head up, seeing if he was joking, then smiled and snuggled back down.
“Could you?”
“Well, I could try. But probably not.”
“I don’t know. You did a really great job on the store. They said so.”
“I don’t know how to take that since we decided they didn’t know anything. And they didn’t really say anything about the design.”
“Exactly. They would have skewered it if it hadn’t been great.”
He nodded, sighing. “Yeah. Me doing a good job means it’s invisible.”
She sniffed. “I’d give anything for invisibility.”
“It is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Neither is fame.”
That was probably true. But surely there was a happy medium between the two.
Nicole said softly, “First, they love you. Then, they hate you.”
“No, they don’t hate you. The ones who love you, still do. The ones who hate you are just the loudest right now.”
She whispered, “It hurts. I know it shouldn’t. But it hurts.”
He sucked in a breath, then wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. Tight. Protecting her from invisible barbs, from unseen words.
As if he could.
She was stiff in his arms and he was berating himself for being a moron and crossing a line, definitely crossed a line there, and then, suddenly, she relaxed against him.
Her breath sighed out against his neck and her plain vanilla body wash wafted up and short-circuited his brain and her arm came around to wrap around his waist.
The screen froze for an instant, the movie buffering, and Nicole whispered, “It’s not working.”
She lifted her head slightly. Her face right there, her eyes looking into his, her mouth so close.
Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss your boss.
And then, he remembered Hitch and was glad he’d watched it because he could go ninety percent. Ninety percent of the way and hold. With all women, but especially this one.
And if she didn’t want to kiss him, she didn’t have to.
He closed the distance between their lips by half and whispered back, “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”
She smiled. So slow, her lips pulling apart and her eyes crinkling. Her brown eyes melting into dark puddles.
Flynn’s heart stopped beating and he forgot to breathe, and he whispered, “Your eyes are the color of a Tootsie Roll.”
She blinked, wrinkled her forehead, and sat back.
“A Tootsie Roll?”
He let her go, grabbing a handful of candy and
picking out one to compare. He held it up next to her face.
“Yep, a Tootsie Roll.”
“Could you have at least picked real chocolate? Godiva? Ghirardelli? A Tootsie Roll?”
“I like Tootsie Rolls.”
“It’s chocolate flavor. You could have said I was 70% cacao. Rich, warm, smooth, intense.”
“No, I couldn’t have said that. That’s not anything I would have ever said.”
“A Tootsie Roll!”
She sounded so sincerely offended he just leaned forward and kissed her. Forgot about ninety percent, forgot about waiting, forgot that she was Nicole Bissette.
Just kissed her, his lips lightly touching hers. His eyes open and staring into hers. His hand reaching for hers.
She murmured, “I just threw up.”
He murmured back, “I’m going to have to tell you that I would put up with a lot to kiss you. Mint gum with hints of puke don’t really rate.”
She tried not to laugh but she did. And she pulled her lips from his but held on to his hand. “You’re disgusting.”
He shrugged. “All men are.”
“And you think I’m a Tootsie Roll.”
He laughed, saying, “It wasn’t an insult,” and she looked at him pointedly.
“And all I said was that your eyes were the color of a Tootsie Roll. That’s not what I think you are.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I think you are a goddess with Tootsie Roll colored eyes.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just looked at him, and he wondered what she could see with those Tootsie Roll colored eyes.
She said softly, “I think you’re Clark Kent. Superman in disguise.”
He blinked. “Superman? I think I love you.”
She laughed. “I was going to say Superman in a boring tie but changed my mind.”
“Oh, well, you know.” He looked down at his plain old black tie. “Boring is the new black, I guess.”
She smiled again and he said, “Yeah, you’re right. You should put that thing away.”
She didn’t.
Just smiled at him, looking. Watching. Waiting.
This wasn’t Resting Bitch Face.
This was Don’t stop and Yes and You’re welcome.
He leaned toward her again and Nicole whispered, “What about Lois Lane?”
