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Dear god, don’t do this…
Nick-fucking-Stafford walked through the large, windowed door, his face stern from the cold wind outside, but it softened as he made eyes at me.
“Nick!” I smiled, laughed—maybe a little too hard— crossing one leg over the other. I tried not to stumble, my holiday drinks already making their way down to my wobbly posture.
“Elena?” He said surprised, scanning me up and down, assessing me, my outfit, my face. “I, uh… thought you…” he shook his head, stopping his thought. “How are you?”
“I’m god,” I said, shutting my eyes. “Good. I mean, I’m good.”
Silence followed as Nick shifted his weight. He muscled over large plastic bags he carried from one hand to the other, balancing a paper grocery sack between his bicep and chest. I watched as he carefully bit down on the tip of his black leather gloves, snatching them free, letting them loose into the bag before licking his lips.
“Still have that deadline tonight?”
“Yes.” I peered over Camilla’s carefully wrapped package that rested on the floor. “Actually I have more to do than I thought. It’s going to be a busy night.”
“It’s already pretty late, isn’t it?”
I nodded, checking how his black chinos and boots matched perfectly with his long topcoat and heather-gray sweater. I appreciated how long his hair started to become, his duck tails swooped back into perfect waves. He was dressed nice, neat even, a sobering contrast to his equally sexy, rugged, morning look from earlier.
The elevator door opened up as Nick gestured for me to go first. I grinned, lifting Camilla’s present into my arms, entering. Somehow inside felt even quieter, as we both reached for the same button. What a gentlemen, pressing my level before his. We each pulled back and laughed.
God. More silence.
Was he thinking about me liking his posts? Had he seen it already? I wondered, suddenly feeling too warm as I unbuttoned my coat.
“No family party tonight?” I finally asked, the elevator creaking in the background.
Nick smiled to himself. “I kind of bailed on that.”
“Not in the mood?”
“Not exactly. I love my sister, love my nephews… just wanted to try something different tonight.”
“Like compete in an eating contest?” I joked, noticing the familiar Sichuan Garden logo on his plastic bags. He looked to be carrying nearly ten pounds of my favorite Chinese food.
“Thought I would give it a try… besides, Marty loves the leftovers.”
“He seems like a chow-mien kinda dog.”
“Think more broccoli and beef.” Nick tilted his head, his eyes shifting. He suddenly seemed so self-conscious of the bags, staring at them, his face washed with indifference.
He reached for the pocket in his jacket, for what I assumed was his phone.
I panicked, my stomach instantly twisting into a knot.
This was it, he was going to see the notifications now, if he hadn’t already.
“I didn’t mean to like your posts!” I blurted out, leaning against the railing of the elevator wall.
Nick pulled out a stick of gum from his pocket, sticking it into his mouth. He chewed, just letting my random statement float around with no response.
“What post?” he asked curiously, almost confused.
“Oh…”
“You liked one of my posts? Like on Instagram?”
“Well, a friend did… I mean I like them, too, but…”
