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To get hit? To getpunched?
I prefer my human contact to come through fighting. Fucking, if that’s not available.
I want to know why. This thing where he thinks he’s a monster feels connected to the fights at the warehouse. It feels connected to the fact that even with a concussion, he refused to accept a hug.
Italsofeels connected to the fact that he’s never mentioned his mother. Or his dad, come to think of it. Although…he did seem to understand what it was like to have a father who wasn’t up to the task.
I want to understand, because I care about him. I’m worried about him, though I don’t have any business being worried.
I’m passing the elevators when one of the sets of doors opens, and a blonde woman in a tight skirt suit steps off with a man in charcoal gray. “—from Costa Rica,” she’s saying to him in an urgent tone. “So I came in early to deal with it. I don’t know how we’re supposed to get coffee beans here by tomorrow morning, but I have the feeling—”
“Excuse me. Hi.” I’m feeling a little bold from the fucking, I guess. “My name is Bristol. Are you talking about the coffee that W—Mr. Leblanc likes? The coffee beans from Costa Rica?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Bristol Anderson. I used to work for him at Summit.” I stick out my hand, and she shakes it, her eyebrows going up. “You’ll probably want to order more beans soon regardless, but there’s a bag in the break room. Mislabeled in the move. And there’s almost a full pot already made.”
“Ah. You’re the temp who’s filling in for me at Greg’s office.”
“That’s me.”
“My name is Candy. This is Jim.” He shakes my hand while her eyes travel over my outfit. My face. I didn’t stop in the bathroom to check my hair when I left Will’s office. Does she…know? “Thanks for the tip about the coffee. Seems pretty important to him.”
“Oh, it is.” I also didn’t stop in the bathroom to make sure my clothes were still presentable. I just trusted in my mirrorless abilities. “It was nice to meet you. I should—”
Blonde, flawless Candy takes the opportunity to leave the conversation without even a second of hesitation. “Of course. Nice to meet you, too.”
We all step around each other. I wait until they’ve disappeared into the lounge, then hit the call button on the elevator. I don’t want to sit in the office waiting for Greg and his cheerful flirtiness. Can’t, in fact. It’s going to be impossible to focus on the promise of the permanent job when I’m still full-body blushing from having sex with Will in his office.
Which—yes,obviouslyI thought that something might happen. I came into work without panties for a reason. Some part of me was afraid that he’d shut me out, but that part was never louder than the part that wanted to go above and beyond Sean’s advice.
I take the elevator down to the lobby. A few minutes in the bathroom is enough to put on panties—I brought them, just tucked in my purse—and make sure my hair and outfit look fine.
They do.
It’s probably ironic that sex with mean, conflicted Will makes me look so good.
And actually, it doesn’t matter if I secretly care about him. He’s an asshole who thinks he’s a worthless monster, and Ishouldn’tcare.
The solution is to go buy a drink from the guy at the coffee cart and continue not caring.
Not caring very much, at least.
It’s an odd mix of people in the lobby with me. People leaving the third shift to go home. A couple of people who look up at the directory like they’re not sure if they should be here. A few early birds heading into their offices, heads bowed over their phones. One of them looks a little red in the face. He clears his throat as he walks by, then does it again. None of them pay any attention to me, which is nice. Working in Greg’s office feels like constantly being in the spotlight.
And being near Will is like the sun swooped down from its orbit. I should be more afraid that it’ll burn me to a crisp. That’s what he thinks. Or maybehe’sthe one who’s afraid.
Or maybe I’m so full of adrenaline that I can’t count on my thoughts to make sense until things settle down.
Out on the sidewalk, I take a deep breath of fresh air. A cold breeze sweeps down the street. It washes under the collar of my blazer. I shake off my shivers. That gust was colder than I dressed for today. Summer stays late in New York City, but when the fall comes, it comes on fast.
It’s nice and warm and comfortable up in Greg’s office, but seeing Candy in her more-designer-than-mine skirt suit and even being in Will’s office were stark reminders that I don’t actually belong at Hughes Financial Services. Not like they do. They’re guaranteed their spots there. I have to fight for mine, on just about every level.
That permanent, full-time job feels as far away as Greg’s office right now.
And that is no excuse to abandon my mission for coffee.Thatwould be letting Will and Hughes Financial Services get under my skin.
I head for the bright-orange cart down the block. Warm light from the glassed-in shelf where Nelson, who I learned yesterday is the cart guy, stores his full carafes is still a bit brighter than the sky. It’s like a beacon.Here. Buy yourself a paper cup full of warmth, and then it’s yours. You own it.
