We knelt on the floor together and collected the pages. He even helped me organize them before taking my hand and pulling me to my feet once more. This time I paid attention. He had a warm, solid grip. Protective. It sent a rush of fiery orange all the way up my arm and into my heart, making it beat faster and stronger.
And then came the really awkward part—that weird silent moment of smiling and shuffling feet because we weren’t sure what else to say. I mean, there was certainly something that could be said, but I didn’t take Reece for the type of guy who would embarrass me by bringing it up. “It” as in my highly-sexualized exhibition last Thursday.
“I think I saw you at The Reel Café,” he said after a moment.
Okay. Apparently Reece is the kind of guy who brings shit up to embarrass you.
“Really?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “I don’t know that I was there Thursday night.”
“You were dancing with your friend. You had on a little blue dress,” he said. I guess he felt the need to jog my memory.
“Ohhhh,” I replied, smacking my forehead with the heel of my palm. “That’s right! I was there. I had a lot to drink. Hard to remember where I was or what I did.” I giggled nervously.
He affected disappointment. “Oh, so that whole show wasn’t really about me.”
I couldn’t believe he actually said it! Yes, he went there. Went there.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I knew the jig was up, but I wasn’t ready to admit I flirted with him so blatantly. And anyway, I didn’t know it was him at the time.
“The dancing,” he said. “When you danced for me.”
He stared directly at my face, just like he did when he visited me at my cubicle for the first time. This guy had balls. Well, I mean, obviously he had balls. I hope he had balls. Bailey, stop thinking about his balls.
“I . . .” What could I say? I didn’t know if I should feel aggravated that he was so clearly embarrassing me or jump his bones because he looked really hot in that tailored striped button-up.
He leaned over to get eye level with me. “I’m just messin’ with you,” he said softly.
I smiled and relaxed a little. “My friend, Erica.”
“What about her?” he asked. He was still bent over, inches from my face.
“She put me up to it. She said there was a hot guy looking at me.” I couldn’t believe my boldness. I also couldn’t believe that my statement came out as a question. On purpose. I wanted to know if he’d been looking at me all night.
He stood up and inhaled deeply. “Well, that’s awfully flattering of your friend. And yes, I was looking at you. You caught me.”
“Well, I shook my ass for you, so I guess we can both be a little embarrassed,” I said lightly.
Reece chuckled.
“That won’t make things weird here at work, right?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I do wish you wouldn’t have run out of the bar, though.”
I hung my head. “That was really immature, I know. But I was humiliated. You don’t understand. I’m talking instantly sober. And everything looks different when you’re instantly sober.”
“Yuck. I hate instant sobriety. My friend got punched in a bar once. Bam! I went from drunk to splitting the atom in three seconds flat.” He winked at me.
I blushed.
“Hope it didn’t ruin your night,” he said. “Your instant sobriety.”
Brian flashed in my brain. “No,” I muttered. “Something else took care of that.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly.
He had the good sense not to press me for details.
“So, are we cool?” he asked.
“Completely.”
“Then I’ll see you later for lunch?”
I gulped. “Lunch?”
“Yeah. I thought we could eat together,” Reece said.
I didn’t know what this meant. I knew my female brain was already reading way too much into it, but I didn’t care. And here’s why: He had the best head of hair on any man I’d ever seen.
“I eat at noon,” I said.
“I know.”
He gently pushed me aside and started down the hallway. I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew I ate at noon, but another question came out instead.
“How did Haute Digital like your campaign?” I asked.
He paused and turned around. “They . . . dig it.” He stood there buzzing with suppressed excitement. Something big was about to happen. I felt it. I felt it from him. The current escaped through his feet, traveled under the carpeted hallway, and zapped me.
***
Reece paid attention. He watched her for an entire week, arriving to work at exactly 7:58 every morning. Eating lunch at noon on the dot. He found excuses to visit her cubicle just to see if her pens would be in the same order in which she lined them up the first time he met her. Without fail, they lay on her desk in their red-blue-black-green-purple order of importance.
Another week passed, and he thought they were actually becoming friends. He didn’t need excuses to visit her anymore. It became habitual to stop by and ask about her weekend, see if she wanted a soda from the vending machine, find out where her favorite restaurants were. After all, he was still new to Wilmington, and there was a lot to discover. And he wanted to discover it with her.
“I’m in love with a coworker,” Reece confessed to his friend, Camden, on trivia night at a local bar.
“Not wise,” Camden replied, and chugged his beer.
“And I’m pretty sure she’s OCD,” Reece went on.
Camden stared at his friend. “Dude. No.”
“I find it uncomfortably sexy,” Reece admitted.
“That you like a coworker or that she’s OCD?”
“The second one. There’s something strangely erotic about it. What the hell is wrong with me?” Reece shoved a cheese fry in his mouth.
“Look Reece, I’m your best friend. And as your best friend, it’s my job to give it to you straight. So here’s the deal: Don’t even think about going there. Do you have any idea what those people are like? I mean, what? Is she your age?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Okay. So she’s maybe thirty, thirty-one. And single.” He paused for effect. “For a reason.” He shot Reece a “Hello? Don’t be a moron” look.
“But I’m single, too.”
“By choice, man.”
Reece grunted. “That’s debatable.”