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“Of course I am worried about you. I worry about everyone. How are you even going to get through all this?” I continue, as my eyes search his for answers, not just to this question but to many others now skirting around in my mind.
“With you.” His words are so self-assured, they are almost startling.
“Excuse me?” I pull back a little in question, wondering how he thinks I can help him.
“With you. With you by my side.” He closes the remaining distance between us again, and I feel his hand grab mine at our sides.
“Harrison, I can’t do anything to support you other than tag along, meet and greet, manage a few photographers…” I say, acutely aware of our hands, our fingers intertwining. No longer the friendly squeeze, but something more intimate that I long for.
“And be with me. Every step...” I know his words mean more than they sound as his eyes bore into mine.
“Harrison, I can’t be you. I can’t woo the people like you can.” I feel good in this new job, and I feel good with him. But I can’t command a room, not like Harrison.
“I don’t need you to be me. I need you to be you. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are great with people. You walk into a room and everyone smiles immediately. Including me. Your presence alone relaxes me and makes me want to do better,” he says softly, looking serious for a moment. His eyes graze over my face, and my heart sounds like it is punching out into the room so loudly that I am waiting for the walls to start vibrating.
There is no denying his feelings. His words push straight through the protective wall I had developed for keeping this daydreaming idea I had under wraps. I swallow as I watch him, standing firm, his body language reiterating exactly how sure he is. My fingernails pinch into my palm that’s not held in his, and I feel the sting. This is definitely reality.
Harrison Rothschild is saying he needs me. In his campaign and outside of it. I am stunned for a moment. Lost for words.
“You are beautiful, Beth, inside and out…” he whispers as his hand reaches out and cups my jaw. I momentarily stop breathing, my stomach dips, and it is only due to my sheer will that my legs keep me upright.
“Harrison…” I breathe out as we both edge closer, our faces now only inches apart. My heart is racing because we are in his office, meant to be finalizing his schedule. This is work and anyone could walk in. And I really need this job. I don’t need office gossip about our governor elect and his project manager to be the topic that kicks me into the unemployment line.
“Goddamn, I want my lips on yours,” he grits out like he is barely hanging on, his thumb moving to trail across my lip, pulling my bottom lip down a little, and a moan leaves my throat all on its own. He growls then, his nostrils flaring, his fingers on my jaw tightening. His other hand comes up and he cups my face, and his eyes are running from mine to my lips and back again, over and over. He is acting like he has been holding back his desire for a long time, like he is almost to breaking point.
“Harrison, we can’t…” the words are weak as they fall from my lips. I don’t believe them and neither does he. Because right here, right now, even though it is the last thing the two of us should be doing, kissing Harrison Rothschild has never felt so right.
He leans in just as I do. Our lips meeting softly in the middle and I hold my breath.
“Harrison!” Oscar says as he opens the office door and strides into the room, thankfully looking down at his cell phone. I jump three feet into the air and almost fall over, except Harrison’s strong hand grabs my elbow, making sure I am alright before I step away. I’m hoping we both look professional, even though only two seconds earlier, we almost certainly weren't.
“What is it?” Harrison asks, looking at me with concern, yet his words are voiced to Oscar.
“Looks like the photogs had a field day this morning at the Senior Center. Let me bring it up,” Oscar says, as he lifts his head up to look at us. He pauses mid-stride, his eyes flicking between me and Harrison, no doubt seeing the guilt written all over my face. Harrison stands tall, but his eyes remain on me.
I pull my shoulders back and nod to Harrison before looking back at the paperwork in my hands and shuffling them, pretending I am putting them into some sort of order, but they are all haphazardly bound together—much like the thoughts in my mind right now.
Oscar starts moving again, still eyeing us both suspiciously, as he makes his way to Harrison’s desk, tapping on his computer. Harrison and I stand behind him as Oscar brings up the Society News website, and there, right on the home page, is a large photo of… me.
The colors are vibrant, and the lighting just right, it looks almost airbrushed. I look over Oscar’s shoulder and take it in. It is me sitting playing chess with Garry, but looking up at Harrison behind me. Harrison is looking down at me, his hand on my shoulder. The image itself shows nothing but a friendly game of chess at a Senior Center, but the look in Harrison’s eyes as they bore into mine offers an alternative that I hope the public doesn’t investigate.
“What the fuck is this?” Oscar barks, and I startle.
“Watch your tone,” Harrison says, giving Oscar a look I haven’t seen from him before. Oscar nods before moving on.
“Harrison, you know what image we need to portray. Beth, I mean no disrespect, it is a great photo. A great story. But they are starting to really capture you both a lot more. The media are starting to have a field day about how good the two of you are together, even going so far as to suspect something more. I suggest that Beth hangs back on the next few visits, staying here at the office instead. Just to create a little space.” I give him a small nod in understanding, because I don’t want anything to overshadow Harrison's campaign. But Harrison bristles beside me.
“No,” Harrisons states, taking a seat back behind his desk as Oscar stands. I look at Harrison, his face is stern, his jaw clenching.
“Harrison, as a staff member, our jobs are to ensure you are in the limelight, not us,” Oscar pushes, and I watch their exchange with interest as Harrison’s eyes flick to mine before resting on Oscar again.
“I said no. Beth comes with me. Everywhere.” Harrison leaves no more room for questions as he looks at me again. I take a deep breath, letting the words slip over me and I swallow, the confidence Harrison places in me is almost as attractive as the man himself. Oscar gives me the side-eye, but I remain impartial, not knowing what to say or do.
“Fine. But perhaps less chess games next visit, Beth?” Oscar says to me, his tone sounding resigned.
“Sure. No problem. I can blend into the crowd more, but still offer a friendly face,” I say, smiling, hoping that pleases both of them.
“Oscar, give us a minute,” Harrison says, almost dismissing him, and I still, watching Oscar as he nods and silently leaves, closing the office door behind him.
