Page 23 of Fangs with Benefits

‘No, it’s just me. My parents are in Utah, but they’ve come out here a handful of times.’

‘Far from home,’ he remarks. Home. I grew up in sunny, semi-rural Utah and felt homesickness when I first came to New York, but I’m not sure I think of it as home. My only brother and his wife bought a house near my parents a few years ago and he says that the town feels like his forever place, much to my mother’s delight. I don’t know that I feel that way about New York, even after eight years.

‘Not as far as you are.’

‘I suppose so.’

We let the city sounds filter up to us in the comfortable quiet. A drop of rain hits the toe of my boot and then another. I hold my palm out, up to the sky as cool drops fall on my skin. I smile, breathing in the smell of the rain for a moment. When I look at Elijah, he’s already watching me with that curious, intense look he gets sometimes. I turn away quickly.

‘Molly,’ he starts. I wish I didn’t like how good my name sounds with his accent, his deep yet soft voice. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. ‘I want to thank you for all the help. Drummond doesn’t deserve you. And neither do I.’

‘True,’ I say, but I am almost–and I mean almost–reluctantly touched by his gratitude. He’s always so effusively thankful when I help him. ‘But whatever. You’re welcome.’

Him being charming and smiley on a dreary rooftop is not helping remind me that he’s got the digital literacy of a newborn. He’s not supposed to be funny and thoughtful and gracious. He’s supposed to be smelly and evil.

‘How long have you worked here?’ he asks.

‘Three years. Not that long.’

Elijah puffs an exhale. ‘Ten per cent of your life.’

‘Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like a lot.’ I shift, a little uncomfortable at the thought. When I started here, I hoped it was a temporary gig. A year max. Now, approaching year four, I feel so far away from my goals, I don’t even know what they are any more.

‘Do you enjoy it?’ he asks, his voice gentle.

I shrug. ‘Does anyone?’

Elijah blinks and of course he has perfect, long, dark eyelashes. Hailey sits for eyelash extensions every three weeks to get hers to look like that.

‘But you’re so good at it,’ he says. I’m as surprised by his words as I am by the heat that rises to my face.

‘I mean, I don’t mind the job, and yeah I can hold my own, but I think people tend to work the best job they can tolerate so they can afford to do things they enjoy.’

He looks stricken now, like this truth of capitalism put simply for him is astounding. Is that why he’s here? Because he thinks he’ll really enjoy it? Even though he’s so bad at it?

‘I think I’m just cynical,’ I add quietly.

The wriggling feeling in the back of my mind that something is wrong with me returns–the thought that normal people are happy with well-enough, and that I’ll probably never be comfortable and content, even if I had everything I thought I wanted. I think it’s me that’s the problem.

‘I’m going to go back in,’ I say, nodding towards the door. The rain is picking up now and that’s excuse enough, plus it’s better to go now before Elijah’s button-up takes a turn for the translucent.

He follows close behind me, and obviously doesn’t feel as done with the conversation as I do. ‘Are you? Cynical? You’re very pleasant.’

I scoff, sure he must be teasing me, but when I look over my shoulder, he’s as earnest as he always seems. Is that his secret? Is Elijah just… genuine?

‘Sometimes. Drummond doesn’t care about me, not really. I do good work, but if they decided my position wasn’t necessary, I’d get laid off and I’d have to find a job at another company where I would be a cog in their machine of increasing shareholder value,’ I explain as we get back into the elevator. When I say it out loud, I really do sound cynical. ‘But the commute isn’t bad, the pay is enough to live on, there’s a gym I can use, a free snack and soda room, health benefits, an okay 401(k) match, and I like some of the people I work with. And, yes, I am good at it. So, I guess I enjoy it well enough.’

‘And that’s enough?’ he asks, his body turned to face mine, elevator etiquette be damned.

‘If I want to live in the city, then yes. It has to be.’

Elijah looks at me in the same way he looks at an IT request he doesn’t understand, a single crease between his eyebrows.

The elevator dings on our floor before he can carry on his inquisition, and Kenneth and Devi stand on the other side, Kenneth pushing a cart with a computer on it. They look surprised to see us, and Devi’s eyes are wide, probably at the sight of Elijah turned towards me as he is. I anticipate that she’s going to be very uncool about this.

‘Oh, perfect. Elijah, I’ll show you around the extra permission set-up for legal if you want to come with me,’ Kenneth says in a rare display of productivity.

I don’t give Elijah a chance to say no, instead brushing past Kenneth and heading for the office. Devi follows, speed walking to catch up with me.