“Down, Fido.” Keri’s still laughing. I guess I’m not the only one to see the puppy similarity. “I’m a supporter of office romances.” She slides her gaze to rest on me for two beats before looking back at Derek. “I’ll switch. Who do you have?”
Derek beams, then readjusts his weight in his swivel chair and breaks eye contact. “I have Frank,” he mumbles.
“Come again?” Keri obviously didn’t hear Derek, but I did. I push back my chair, inching away so I don’t get caught in the crossfire.
Frank isn’t any of the female employees’ favorite. What he considers a compliment—usually how a part of our anatomy looks in an article of clothing we’re wearing—we consider highly inappropriate. He also feels entitled to our time, conversation, and personal space. If harassment were a flavor, Frank would be vanilla, and unfortunately we’ve all experienced worse, so we deal with his vanilla and count down the days until his retirement. Currently one hundred and seventy-three. There will be a big party, but it’s more for us than for him.
“Frank,” Derek repeats louder. “I drew Frank’s name.”
Keri presses her lips together so tightly they disappear. Her nostrils flare as she takes in a deep breath. “I was going to do an even swap, but I think I’m going to need those peppermint mochas if I’m forced to shop for Frank.”
“He’s—”
“If you’re going to finish that sentence with the wordsnot so bad, the deal is off.”
Derek holds up his hands in surrender. “I was going to say he’s the worst.”
“Good.” She nods her head once. Conversation closed. She takes another deep breath, this one to cleanse her mind of thoughts of Frank, if I know her at all. She forces a smile my way. “You ready now, Kenz?”
“Ready.” I shove my chair into its spot and palm my clutch. “See you guys on Monday.”
Derek nods, and Lincoln, the only other coworker who’s stayed late today, absently lifts a hand as he stares at his screen.
“Thanks again for being willing to stop at Heritage Hills. I really appreciate it,” I tell Keri as we head to the elevator.
She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “What are friends for? Besides, I’m not being completely magnanimous. Remember the nurse that helped me last time when I got lost? Alejandro.” She says his name with an exaggerated accent, rolling her R hard, but she does it with this flirty, dreamy look on her face. With the fifties-style A-line dress she has on plus her pin curls done like Betty Grable, she looks like someone’s rebellious daughter from Miami falling in love with a neighbor from the Caribbean south. VeryWest Side Storymeets the Cuban Missile Crisis. “I’m hoping he’ll be there again. Last time I definitely picked up a vibe.”
In theory, I know what she means. Intellectually, I realize that people send out signals to those they are interested in. Like radio waves or something. My internal antenna, however, is either broken or has never developed because I can never tune in to the right frequency to pick up those signals ... or send them, for that matter.
I am about to ask what Alejandro said or did specifically that could be considered a vibe when my gaze snags on a familiar profile.
Strong jaw and cleft chin. Straight nose. Perfectly styled hair. Jeremy waits for the elevator with one hand in his pocket, theother cradling his phone as he stares down at it. He looks up as we approach, and the force of his eyes in my general direction causes my steps to slow. I unconsciously drift to place myself in Keri’s shadow.
Jeremy glances at his phone one last time before slipping it into his pocket. The elevator doors open, and he offers us a smile. “Ladies first.”
Keri snaps her fingers. “Oh, shoot. I left my lunch container in the refrigerator. Don’t want to leave it over the weekend and have it grow mold.”
I feel a hand on my back, and then I’m stumbling forward. I grab the side of the elevator for support, turning to glare at my supposed best friend.
Her smile is sweet and innocent. “I’ll see you downstairs, Mackenzie. Have a nice weekend, Jeremy.”
“You too,” Jeremy says as he follows me into the soon-to-be enclosed space. The doors slide shut after he presses the button for the bottom floor.
The spicy scent I’d picked up on him earlier in the day is stronger in our cramped quarters, and now I can identify the undertones of citrus. Orange, to be exact. It’s fresh but also warm somehow.
“So.” Jeremy leans his shoulder against the elevator wall and regards me. “Crazy day, huh?”
I peek up at him through my lashes and nod. The numbers indicating which floor we’re on slowly count down, but not fast enough.
Outwardly, I stand still and try to keep my gaze from becoming a butterfly, flitting about the elevator but never landing on one thing. Inwardly, a civil war has been declared between the person I wish I was and the person I really am.
The person I wish I was would enjoy this one-on-one time with an attractive and available man. She’d look him boldly in the eye and smile. She wouldn’t feel nervous or grasp for thesimplest thing to say. She might even punch the emergency stop button and do something daring like ask him on a date. (Okay, in the back of my mind I was thinking grab him by the shirt and kiss him senseless, but apparently even my imaginative alter ego isn’t that intrepid.)
The person I am, however, is going to have a bruised rib from how hard my heart is pounding against it. If only I knew how to make small talk or if maintaining eye contact didn’t make me so uncomfortable. If only there was a third person in this elevator to take the pressure off of me. Then I could slink back into the shadows.
“Did you have any idea the meeting this morning would be about a promotion?” Jeremy continues to lean against the wall casually.
I shake my head. Yes, Keri had suggested it and past patterns show Sofiya will promote someone at the end of the year, but no, I didn’t think I’d be considered.
