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“The offer of friendship still stands, if you can live with…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
Minutes pass by, but she says nothing. I’m thankful for the sound in the café, as her silence is killing me.
“How will a friendship even work when my name brings out all the nightmares you are trying to forget?”
It’s the first time her voice hasn’t trembled while speaking to me. Like that’s the one thing she believes wholeheartedly.
Her words rattle my core. I just mentioned a trigger, but she couldn’t have explained my reaction to her name any better.
What are your nightmares, couch girl?
“Because I’m here, talking to you, hoping hard that you’re not completely weirded out by me and would still consider my friendship.”
“Oh.” She looks at me in surprise for a second before she’s flustered again, pulling on those flannel cuffs.
“I know we’ve only met yesterday, but trust me, couch girl—”
“Couch girl?” She does a double take. Some of the lost color returns to her face, telling me she isn’t offended by the nickname.
“Yes, the mysterious girl I found sleeping on the office couch.”
Her lips make an adorable O.
“That’s the name I’m using when I’m thinking about you,” I admit. “But of course, I have the copyright on that.”
When I give her a small smile, she blushes a beautiful shade of pink, and my heart soars in delight. I release a deep breath of relief, knowing that a major part of the crisis is averted.
“You can’t call me that…there.” She tilts her head toward the office building. “Everyone will think I’m some crazy couch lady.”
I bring my attention back to her face from her fingers, which are lightly tapping on the empty coffee cup.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone think of you as crazy, Ms. Marlin.” An inspiration hits me as I push my chair back. “Would you like to share a piece of pie with me to celebrate our new friendship, Marr?”
Her eyes widen at my swift use of her new nickname. “S-s-sure. They make, um…very good custard pie here.”
“One custard pie coming right up.”
As I walk to the counter, my chest inflates. Given all the weirdness, I’m so damn happy with how this morning is turning out with my new friend
Sweet and cute couch girl. Marr.
I return with a piece of pie and two forks. When I place the small plate between us, using her fork she divides it into two halves. She even pulls her piece a little more toward her, creating a small gap.
I cock an eyebrow at her, but she just ducks her head.
I let her actions slide. If she’s cool with my weirdness, I’m cool with hers.
As we enjoy the pie, I ask more about her.
She starts hesitantly, telling me about her recent projects, then swiftly moves to her colleagues until she’s raving about the town.
Finally, I have to interrupt her. “So Marr, in the past thirty minutes, I’ve learned about almost everything except you. I’m more interested in knowing you.” I point the tiny fork to her, but my simple words have an undesirable effect. Her blushing pink face pales, slowly turning white. “Hey, I’m only asking little details that friends know about each other. Like, maybe your age. Or your phone number.”
“Oh.” She slowly relaxes back in her chair and whispers, “I’m twenty-six.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“I know.” Her eyes widen before she plays with her cuffs. “I mean…I didn’t know know, but I assumed. You are the CEO…you should be thirty-one…thirty-two.”
