8. Nicole
Chapter eight
Nicole
I squeal as soon as I open the email from Herb. It’s been two weeks since Thanksgiving. This is the last week of the semester, and the library is shutting down after next Wednesday for the winter break. I was afraid Herb would keep us waiting on the graphic novel pilot proposal until January.
But here it is! The email saying that he approves of the pilot project, and we can move forward.
I jump up from my desk and dart down the hall to Adam’s office. The door is open, so I poke my head inside. He’s focused on his computer screen, his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth in a serious line. For the first year I knew Adam, this is exactly the face I most associated with him—serious and grumpy. But, in these last few weeks where I’ve worked with him more closely, I’ve realized that the frowning, serious Adam is actually the exception rather than the rule. As if that thought has heralded my presence, Adam looks up just then. When he sees me, his whole demeanor changes. His brown eyes brighten, appearing almost amber in color, and his lips curve into an immediately pleased smile. His brows unfurrow as he removes his glasses and rubs his eyes before regarding me again.
“Hey!” he says.
“Hi,” I answer, suddenly feeling shy about standing here at his office door uninvited. My face heats with his eyes on me, my stomach flipping in a way that feels almost like butterflies. Still standing in the doorway, I push my words forward into the room.
“Did you see Herb’s email?”
“No.” He frowns, and his eyes return to his computer screen as he clicks into the email program. “What did he say?”
“He said yes!” I step forward until I’m just in front of his desk. My hands are clasped together where I’m holding them just below my chin.
“What!” Adam jumps up. “That’s amazing!” Suddenly, he’s right next to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders until my clasped hands are wedged between our chests. I freeze, then slowly relax into the brief hug. Coworkers hug, right? Coworkers can hug.
A warm feeling settles inside of me. A hug from a coworker shouldn’t feel like that , a pesky voice inside me says. I push the thought away.
“Congratulations,” he says into my forehead before releasing me and stepping away.
I clear my throat. “Thanks,” I say. And then, “Hey, you too!”
He shakes his head. “It’s your project, Nicole. This is your win. ”
I grin. “I’ll take it!”
“Is there anything we can get done before the break?”
“Not really.” I shrug. “The next step is to order the books, and I don’t want them to come in while the campus is closed. We can regroup in January.”
Adam watches me carefully, his serious face back in place. “Why don’t we have lunch together next week,” he suggests. “Just to review next steps so we can dive right in when we’re back in January?”
“Sure. That could work,” I answer.
It’s Wednesday before we can make lunch happen—the last day before the long break. I have a suitcase sitting in my office since an airport shuttle is picking me up right from Parker Library for my flight tonight.
Adam and I walk to a local café for lunch. It’s a small place that’s open at breakfast for bagels and at lunch for sandwiches and cookies. The variety isn’t huge, but what they do have is excellent. The bagels are freshly made every day. A small line snakes back from the order counter, but we don’t have to wait long. When we reach the front, I order a turkey sandwich on an everything bagel. I skip the Swiss cheese, thinking about all the Christmas treats my mom undoubtedly already has piling up in the kitchen back home, but I can’t pass up their signature herb cream cheese spread. Mmmm.
Adam insists on paying for my sandwich as a celebration of Herb approving the graphic novel project, and I’m only a little reluctant about letting him. He orders some sort of veggie sandwich on a whole wheat bagel.
The inside of the café only fits about three small tables and two of those are full during the lunch rush. The weather is gorgeous—seventy degrees with a cloudless blue sky and plenty of sunshine—so we opt to sit on the patio outside. Well, I opt to sit outside, and Adam follows me. Out here, ten two-top tables are interspersed with short trees all contained within a hip-high picket fence supporting a network of vines. I settle at a table near a part of the fence that overlooks the sidewalk. Adam sits across from me and without talking, we both dig in.
I’m thinking about the long evening of travel in store for me—the shuttle to the airport an hour away and then by some miracle I managed to find a nonstop flight to Austin. The flight’s about three hours long, but I’ll be switching into central time, so it won’t be too much past my dad’s bedtime when he picks me up.
Adam clears his throat. As if he’s reading my mind, he asks, “When do you fly home?”
I’m just about to answer when a ping from my phone distracts me. I glance at it and see a message from the airport shuttle company, so I pick the phone up from the table and squint at it through the glare from the sun.
“No! Oh no!” I wail, as the words in the message sink into my brain.
“What’s wrong?” I look up at Adam, and his forehead is creased with worry .
“Ugh. The airport shuttle I booked a month ago to take me to the airport after work tonight just canceled! One of their vans broke down, apparently the one I was supposed to be on.” I rub my fingers across my forehead as I think. “I don’t have a car, and, ugh, a rideshare will be so expensive, but I don’t see any way around it — ”
“I’ll take you,” Adam says quickly, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.
I freeze. “What?”
“I’ll take you,” he says again, surer this time.
“Adam, the closest airport is an hour away. You don’t want to drive two hours after work tonight.”
“For you, I do,” he says. “I’m happy to.”
“But,” I hedge, “don’t you have plans?”
He shrugs. “Not really. I was just going to pack. I leave tomorrow to drive to Naples.”
It’s really too kind and I shouldn’t accept, but … oof, I really don’t want to spend the money for a rideshare.
“I’ll give you gas money,” I promise. Adam looks like he’s about to protest, so I repeat in a firm voice, “I’ll give you gas money.”
He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Deal.”
Around four that afternoon, Adam appears in my office doorway. “You about ready?” he asks.
“Perfect timing.” I smile at him from my desk chair. My laptop has just finished shutting down, so I snap the lid closed and slide it into my tote bag. I sling the tote over my shoulder as I stand and then retrieve my rolling suitcase from the corner, scanning my desk for anything I might have forgotten.
Adam steps into my office and reaches out his hand, taking hold of the suitcase handle. “I can take that,” he says.
“Such a gentleman,” I tease.
His car is a practical four-door sedan, white and wide, and I notice as I slide into the front seat, immaculately clean. Pretty on brand.
As soon as we hit the highway, traffic is slow. I check the maps app on my phone and it’s still saying I’ll get to the airport about an hour and half before the flight leaves, so that’s good. Sure enough, the traffic thins, and our pace picks up.
Adam and I chat about our Christmas plans, the graphic novel project, and other odds and ends. It’s comfortable, which is strange seeing how we’ve only been working closely with each other for a few weeks. Before I know it, we’re pulling into the departures section of the airport and I’m directing Adam to my airline. He pulls up alongside the walkway and puts the car in park.
I hesitate before opening the car door. “You know,” I say, “I won’t be checking my work messages during the break, but I’d hate to miss any memes…”
Adam’s ears turn pink. “Oh?” he says, keeping his eyes steady on mine.
“What if I give you my phone number and if you find any good ones, you can text me?”
He shrugs, picking up his phone. “I could do that. ”
I grin, rattling off my number as I fling the door open. “Thanks again, Adam. See you in a few weeks.”
“Have a safe trip, Nicole.”
The way he says my name, a little growly, makes me turn around and look at him again, but his face is impassive, so I push it out of my mind. The trunk pops open when I reach the back of the car, and I pull out my suitcase. I slam the lid down and step onto the sidewalk. With one last wave to Adam, I turn to walk through the automatic doors. I glance back over my shoulder; Adam doesn’t pull away until I’m fully inside the airport. It’s not until the plane is halfway to Austin that I realize I never gave him gas money.