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I try to use the next few hours productively. I watch a documentary on cinematography, make notes, and drink a crapton of water. I try to pretend not to notice how half the people I say hi to pretend not to hear me, while the others give me such blank, hateful stares that I stop dead in my tracks.
It shouldn’t matter, anyway. As much as I’d prefer to be on cordial, even friendly, terms with my coworkers, I’m here to work, not to make BFFs.
I’m just finishing up watching the documentary when I sense someone nearby. It’s Greyson, smiling oddly. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah, sure, of course! Not much to do right now.”
“About that: sorry. We’re just scrambling to get this new season up and out, and figure out ads and… we should get on the planning stage for the next episode soon, and you’ll be one of the first people I consult.”
“Oh. Really? I’m just the cinematographer, though.”
“You have a good, fresh perspective. Even better, you’re a fan. I’d love to know where you’d want us to film next.”
“Like now?”
“Why not? I mean…” Greyson pauses, remembering we’re still at my cubicle, in the middle of the office. “How about we go to my office first? There’s something else I want to talk to you about first.”
This ‘something else’ seems serious for whatever reason, but I can’t get the memo to the rest of my body: I feel tingly, light and silly with Greyson so close. Like even if, improbably and inappropriately, he swept me up in his arms and spirited me away to his office, I’d only be able to laugh and laugh and laugh.
“Follow me,” he says, his hand slipping easily in mine.
He freezes. Drops my hand.
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine,” I say, although my heart rate’s doubled.
We both take a circumspect look around, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed.
In his office, Greyson closes the door, then sits down. “So.”
“So”—I break into a smile: there’s our word again—“why not Australia? I’ve heard kangaroos can be neat, although a pain in the ass if you’re not careful. Plus, out in the desert there’s no forests for us to get lost in.”
“You hated getting lost so much in Costa Rica?” he asks, smirk teasing.
“Not with you,” I blurt out unthinkingly.
He tries to fight his growing grin, fails. “Wasn’t so bad.”
“You loved it,” I accuse him. “Admit it.”
Still that smile. “Nope. No can do.”
Although his gaze dips to my lips, peels away. Heat prickles between my legs.
Jesus. Every time I’m alone with the man, my hormones take over. It’s all I can do not to grab him, kiss him hard how right here and now.
Greyson swallows, places something in front of me. “This is for you.”
“Me?” I say blankly. It’s gorgeous, an adjective I never thought I’d use for a water bottle, but here I am. It’s pink-to-blue ombre exterior also shows off an adorable watercolor sloth.
“I noticed yours had a crack in it,” he explains. “This one is really good, too: includes a filter, is recyclable and biodegradable, the whole shebang.”
“You…” Do not hug him, do not kiss him. Do not. “…didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. But there’s something else.” Again, that change to stern tone that doesn’t seem to register for me.
He got me the cutest, fanciest, most environmentally friendly water bottle ever!
“I went to see a family friend, a lawyer, the other day, and he told me—” The door opens.
Clack-clack-clack
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Madeline says, firmly not looking at me. “Just, Greyson, we wanted to get your take on something before the ad is released this afternoon.”
“Can it wait?”
“Mmm… unfortunately not. I hate to break up this… meeting you had planned. But it really is urgent.”
“Fine.” Greyson’s tone is flat. He clearly has no other choice. What did he want to talk to me about, anyway? “Harley, it can wait until tomorrow.” He leaves out the door, throwing me a wink.
I get up and leave too. No point in sitting around here for no reason.
And that wink—it meant we’re still on for tonight, right? My lips compress together. I’ve never been in a ‘secret’ romance before, and I’m not sure I like it. Not that Greyson and I should be flaunting whatever we have together in the office. That would be inappropriate. But still. I don’t know.
When I check my phone a few minutes later, Greyson has texted me:
—I want to see you tonight. I’ll pick you up at 6 for CANOE, then we’ll see where the night takes us?
CANOE fired Hannah after her first shift back in the day, I text him back. You know you don’t have to take me to the classiest place in town.
—Alright. Rosalinda is probably more your style. Next time, Opus though.
I grin. I’ve never been to Rosalinda, but Opus is definitely fancy. What is it with Greyson and feeling like he has to treat me? Not that I’m complaining.
