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"Rough day?"
She shrugs, trying to downplay her fatigue. "Just another day in the paradise of corporate America."
I nod, attempting to hide the fact that I could use her help. But I can't give her that satisfaction. After all, I’m Logan, the cool guy who needs nobody.
Bailey continues to her office across the hall. I can hear the rustling of papers, the soft click of her laptop closing, and the sigh of relief that her day is over. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, trying to focus on my work.
It’s just some fucking numbers, Logan.
My eyes are burning with frustration, my head pounding hard enough to match the clock ticking away. The frustration turns into irritation, the irritation into anger. Each minute feels like an hour.
"Calm down, Logan," I tell myself, attempting to bring my focus back to the project.
I fucking hate this.
I hate the fact that I am struggling right now.
"You good?" I look up to find Bailey standing there, her dark eyes scanning my scattered papers.
Fuck.
There it is again...
It's... concern.
I don’t want her help, but I can see that she’s seen right through me and I don’t know what else to do. My brain is fried into mush, my insides are boiling, and I'm seconds away from throwing this whole fucking thing out of the window.
"I will be," I say with forced confidence.
She raises an eyebrow, calling me out on my bullshit. "Need some help?" Her tone is weirdly genuine.
I reluctantly gesture toward the empty chair across my desk.
Bailey takes a seat, her gaze never leaving mine. "So... what's got you pulling your hair out?"
How does she know I am at that level of insanity?
Can she read my mind?
I shrug, attempting to play it off.
"Come on, Logan. It's obvious that you're irritated. Maybe I can help."
I let out a laugh. "Bailey helping me? Now, that's a first."
She rolls her eyes at my comment. After a moment of silence, I finally cave. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be asking Bailey for help.
"It's these damn numbers. Can't make head or tail of them."
Bailey glances at the screen as she takes in the data. I watch as she starts to connect the dots that seemed to evade me. She points out patterns I hadn't noticed, breaks down complex calculations into simpler chunks, and before I know it, the puzzle pieces are falling into place. The frustration melts away, replaced with understanding.
Fuck. She's smart.
"See? Not so bad when you break it down, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
I hate to admit it.
