6.
Emily
M y first week at Northington Tech flies by.
Then the second.
Before I know it, I’ve been working with Hillary for an entire month, and she hasn’t so much as glanced as me in a romantic way. It’s driving me absolutely crazy. We had something great. I know we had something great. The potential there was just absolutely unbeatable.
So, why the cold shoulder?
There’s a part of me that knows she’s probably just anxious about keeping her job, but another part of me thinks that maybe she’s just scared.
I know there’s something between us.
I just know it.
We work together daily, but she doesn’t linger. Her eyes don’t lock on mine. She doesn’t stare at me longingly.
I sure as fuck stare at her.
Do people notice?
I don’t think people notice.
I think I’m being fine, discreet.
Maybe I’m not.
For the most part, I try to keep my mind off of things when I’m not at work. I write. I journal. I try my hand at poetry. I spend time with friends, I volunteer at the animal shelter, and of course, I take a lot of long, hot baths. I try to stay busy. I try to stay out of my own head.
None of it works.
At the end of the month, I’m still just as crazy obsessed with her.
It’s so many different things, too. I love her laugh. I like her smile. I like the way she tells me about the books she reads over the weekend. I like how kind she is to everyone who works here. Although she avoids talking to me one-on-one as much as possible, I still get to know her in groups. We still spend a lot of time together.
This can’t be another Abigail situation, though.
This can’t be like the last time.
I can’t let myself get hurt again.
Finally, we have a meeting with some of the higher ups. This is my moment to shine, I know. I prepare everything we need for the meeting, including Hillary’s talking points, Power Point slides, and her introduction.
Then, halfway through the meeting, Jessica asks her a question she doesn’t know the answer to.
A pause.
Shit.
This is one I didn’t prepare her for.
She turns to me, raises an eyebrow, and I know this is the moment I step in. I’ve trained for this. I’ve prepared.
I’m ready to make Hillary and the company look great.
Only, I catch her gaze, and all I can think about is kissing her.
Only, I seem to forget every word I’ve ever learned.
Only, I freeze instead of answering.
Hillary hesitates for only half of a second before she turns back to the board. She squares her shoulders, juts her chin forward. She’s done this a thousand times before. She makes this look easy.
“I’ll get those stats to you, folks. Expect an email from me in about half an hour.”
The meeting ends, everyone leaves, and Hillary stays where she is.
So do I.
Without her even saying a damn thing, I know she’s pissed. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears, and I know I’ve failed.
Shit.
Jessica leaves, Montgomery leaves, William leaves.
Everyone goes.
As they pass by me, a few people give me looks that say, “Glad it’s not me.”
Fuck.
So, everyone knows I totally botched that question.
Everyone knows I made my boss look silly.
Once the last person is gone, once the door to the conference room is closed, she turns to me. I stare straight ahead, unwilling to meet Hillary’s gaze.
“What the hell was that?”
“What do you mean?”
She’s across the room in two seconds, and she’s standing next to me.
“Up.”
I don’t move.
“Get up, Emily.”
Again, I stay where I am.
I’m quiet, still. Every part of my body is at war. I want to get to my feet. I want to touch her, hold her. I want to grab her, kiss her. I want to say, “It’s our turn. It’s our time. It’s going to be fine.”
But I don’t.
“Em.”
This time, I push back from the table, and I stand. I look at Hillary, and I wait.
“What was that?” Hillary asks again.
I don’t feel intimidated, but I should. Instead, I’m looking at her long hair. It’s pulled back in a bun. It’s a dark shade of brown now. No more blonde. She dyed it recently. Nobody else seems surprised, so I guess this is just something she does.
I don’t want her hair back like this, though.
I want it down.
I want it in my hands.
I want to see what happens when her hair is spread out on pillows and tangled with my own red locks.
These are the things that I want.
These are the things that I need.
“I mean, you were supposed to have that information for me, Em.”
Nobody calls me Em.
“Em?”
“Emily,” she says, correcting herself.
“No, it’s okay. I liked it.”
It’s a bold thing to say to my boss, especially to one I don’t know very well.
“You liked it.”
“I liked it.”
“Em.” Hillary says the word again. Somehow, everything else seems to fade away, and right now, it’s just the two of us locked together in this moment.
I want to touch her.
I need to touch her.
My entire body feels like it’s on fire and burning up and falling apart just for her.
“What is it?” My words come out choked, a whisper.
“You let me down,” she says.
Shame washes over me, wrapping itself around me. I feel like I’m choking, but then she steps closer.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know.”
“It won’t happen again,” she says.
“Because I’m fired?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because you always make the right choices,” she says.
“I don’t,” I say.
“You do.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m bad.”
“You’re not.”
“I could be.”
“Prove it,” she says, and I kiss her.