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“Not funny, just proof that my little brother doesn’t know everything.”
I know he’s teasing, but the quip leaves a mark. As the only one in the family without a college degree, and the son of two scholars and twin brother to a third, I’m acutely aware that I lack that piece of paper. That’s why I work so hard, to prove it isn't necessary to have a degree to be successful. And while my bank account suggests that’s true, I want my business reputation to reflect that also. For years it did, but my new investment strategy has made people doubt that reputation, which makes my brother poking fun at it especially frustrating.
“And this?” I gesture to the envelope in my hand as a way to end the conversation. “What should I do with this?”
“Shoot, that’s the background information on competitors Lisa needs to finish the competitive analysis. She needs it today. I guess I’ll ask her to swing by? Or drop it on my way home tonight. She’s sort of on the way.”
I see my opportunity. “Your house is on the way to mine, I can drop it. I’m headed home after leaving here.”
Charlie looks skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“She needs it, right?” I ask, hoping my voice didn’t betray the thrill I feel in my stomach.
“Yeah,” Charlie exhales. “Okay, I’ll text you the address. And take a peek at that before you give it to her. I made a few notes, but make sure I didn’t leave out anything that she might need.”
Three hours later, thanks to Google Maps, I find myself staring at Lisa’s front porch. I’m typically pretty good with directions, but true to Charlie’s word, Simon had fried my brain, and I needed a little help from Google to find the place.
I jog up the front walk and ring the bell, hoping beyond hope that Lisa hadn’t watched me practically sprint to the front door. Apparently, the calm, confident guy who could attract a girl just by walking in the room has been replaced by his adolescent self, who wouldn’t impress anyone. Time to get my shit together. I nervously run my hand through my hair just as the door opens, and my run up the front walk is all but forgotten.
Her glasses are gone, making her eyes appear slightly smaller and darker than they seemed the night before. Her long hair cascades down her back, thick and shiny and just as beautiful down as it is up, although hanging loose I’m tempted to touch it. Don’t go there. My breath catches in my chest as I try, and fail, to remember what I had planned to say. I smile.
“Chris, what are you doing here?”
That is not the welcome I was hoping for. She has her guard up. Did I make that bad of an impression last night? Probably. First terrifying her, then flirting with her, then forgetting about the date that was waiting for me. I’d have my guard up, too, in her position. I lift the hand holding the envelope, gesturing to it with my eyes.
“Is that for me?” she asks.
“Yeah, Charlie forgot to give this to you yesterday,” I say, finding my voice.
“What is it?”
“Just some background on competitors. He thought you could use it for the competitive analysis. There’s some good information in there.”
She tentatively reaches for the envelope. “Thanks. I didn’t realize you were going to be working with us.”
“I’m not,” I say. “I was at the office when Charlie realized he forgot to give you that file. He asked me to drop if off on my way home.”
“But you looked at the file?”
“Yeah, Charlie had me take a peek to see if he forgot to include anything.”
“Why would he need your take?” She cocks her head.
Shit. How could I have been so stupid? Of course she’d pick up on that. “He doesn’t need my take, not really. He already knows who his competitors are and what they do. But he’s been studying competitors for months, and you kind of build a tolerance for the information that makes things run together after you’ve studied it long enough. Sometimes it just helps to have another set of eyes in case you missed something, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” She softens, meeting my eyes for the first time, and I feel a little jolt. “That happens with writing, too. I know what I want to write, and what I think I’ve written, but when I edit sometimes read what I meant to write instead of what’s actually on the page…” She trails off.
Standing one step lower on the porch while she’s inside puts her at roughly my height, making it impossible to see anything but how beautiful and intense her eyes are. I’m vaguely aware of her fidgeting with the folder in her hand, waiting for me to say something, but what? Nice neighborhood. Great weather we’re having. Sorry I flirted with you while I was on a date. Nothing seems right.
“Well, thanks for bringing this by.” She waves the folder. “I hope it wasn’t too far out of your way. I don’t want to hold up your plans for the evening.” She moves to shut the door.
“I don’t have any plans.”
“Really?” She pauses. “It’s Friday night.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have a date?” She frowns.
