6. Victor
Victor
All I can think about is earlier today. About him.
It’s ridiculous, really. We just talked. That’s it.
But I haven’t been able to shake him from my thoughts. And I don’t want to.
I have a meeting in front of me, numbers spread across my desk, three people arguing over their quarterly projections. I should be paying attention to them. Making sure they understand the impact the first quarter had on their company and the impact of the second if things don’t change.
It’s hard telling someone their business is basically headed for financial ruin, but it’s part of my job. The part I hate.
But instead of giving the meeting my full attention, I keep looking at my phone. Not because I’m waiting for an important email or expecting a work call.
It’s something far better.
Because there’s a number sitting in my contacts that wasn’t there this morning. A number that can change my life.
His number.
I still can’t believe I have it. That, for a second, I almost didn’t. I was walking away and if it wasn’t for him, I’d be here regretting not taking a bigger chance. That’s the part that keeps replaying in my head.
Today was a fluke. I had no plans of stepping foot inside the café, but when I walked by and smelled the rich aroma, I needed it.
In and out. That is my plan since I need to get back home. I have an online meeting, one that I’ve been dreading, then some customer accounts I need to input some receipts on.
It’s all going as planned, as I walk in the door, until I see the crowd. Busy as fucking hell. My eyes scan the room debating if the coffee is really worth it no matter how good it smells.
Then I see him.
He’s sitting at one of the tables near the window, one hand wrapped around his coffee, the other holding his phone. Completely oblivious to everything happening around him.
Including me staring at him. And for some reason, I can’t look away.
He’s got dark hair, cut short, the ends sticking all over the place like he just ran his fingers through it. Or he just didn’t bother to style it. There’s something rugged about him. His shirt hugs his shoulders and arms, making it painfully obvious that he works out.
In one word, he’s gorgeous.
With how crowded it is, I should be turning around and walking out the door. But I don’t. I head straight to the counter and get in line. The whole time I’m standing there, inching forward slowly, I keep my eyes on him.
He never looks up. Every once in a while he glances out the window, but his eyes go right back to his phone. Even when he lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a sip, he never looks up.
“Can I help you, sir?” a soft, feminine voice asks.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say awkwardly as I step up to the counter. “Can I get a large Caramel Macchiato with an extra shot of espresso?” “Got it. Would you care for anything else today?” “No, thank you.”
She gets my name and tells me the total, and with my wallet already out, I swipe my card and step to the side. I make sure to angle my body so that I can still see his table without looking like a crazed lunatic looking over my shoulder.
He’s got an empty chair at his table and no one seems to be with him. I could easily go over there and sit down for a few minutes. We don’t have to talk. But I could get to look at him up close.
It’s a fucking crazy idea. And I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. I need to get home and prepare for the meeting, but a quick look at my watch tells me I can spare a little bit of time.
Instead, my feet start moving before my brain can protest, and they’re guiding me right to his table.
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even seem to notice I’m standing there.
It takes clearing my throat to get his attention, but when I ask if I can sit down, he says yes.
From there, we ended up talking. Awkward at first, but it didn't last long. I even flirted. And I think he did too, in a weird way. Whatever the case, I ended up walking out of there with him asking me for and getting my phone number.
Did we make concrete plans? No. But he did ask.
It should’ve just been a thought in the passing. But all afternoon all I can do is obsess over our interaction. Over him asking me out and having my number. The fact that he hasn’t made any other contact.
During the meeting, I’m supposed to be discussing quarterly numbers, but my attention keeps wandering to the phone sitting beside my laptop.
I glance at it again.
Then again.
I tell myself I’m only checking the time. But I know it’s a lie. I’m dying inside waiting for him to message me again. I’m lying.
Could I message him? Absolutely.
But maybe that’s not what I want. I want to be chased, desired. Him reaching out to me would show that.
Yes, he asked for my number, and technically that means he made the first move. But did he?
If I hadn’t walked over to his table and asked to sit down, he wouldn’t even know I existed.
I flirted and made it pretty damn obvious I was interested.
Maybe that’s why some small, irrational part of me wants him to chase me now. I want to know that I'm not the only one replaying the conversation. That he’s looking at his phone, at my number, and thinking of me.
I shift in my chair and force myself to pay attention to the meeting.
“Are you listening?” My client’s question pulls me from my musings.
“Absolutely.”
He raises an eyebrow and I know he doesn’t believe it.
“I think rebranding would help, but that’s an additional cost that you’ll have to weigh, especially with the company already being in the red.”
He stares at me and I gaze back with confidence. Finally, he must accept that I’m fully listening and continues with the other ideas he has. I make sure to pay attention in case any other financial questions arise.
I reach out to pick up my bottle of water when my phone vibrates on my desk.
Excitement overtakes me and my eyes immediately drop to see that it’s only a calendar notification for the meeting I’m fucking on. Yep, guess I put that in at the wrong time.
“Okay, that’s it for today. We’ll take these ideas and get back to you. Hopefully, these changes can turn the company around.” My client gives a wave and the video conference disconnects.
I lean back in my chair and let out a heavy sigh. This is the worst part of being an accountant and financial advisor. When your clients are great, but the business doesn’t really have a potential of surviving. Secretly, I pray these ideas yield an improvement to their second quarter.
Sitting up, I place my hands on the corner of the desk and push my chair back. Once I stand, I reach my hands above my head and stretch. A ten minute call ended up turning into two and a half damn hours.
I’m fucking drained. I make my way to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, and take an Alani off the shelf. It’s my new favorite flavor, Cosmic Stardust. No time is wasted popping the lid and taking the first glorious sip of grape goodness.
“Okay, back to work.” Drink in hand, I head back to my office, also known as what was the spare bedroom. I have some new receipts I need to enter from one of my clients so that their records are up to date.
While I love being my own boss, I miss being around people. One day, when I’m making more money, I plan to move to an actual building and hire some employees. My dream is to sit back and make the money while others do the work.
I’m thirty minutes into entering receipts and have a good steady rhythm going when I hear my phone ding again.
A quick glance at the screen tells me it’s a message. Just not the one I want. It’s my sister, Nellie.
I smile despite myself and pick it up.
Nellie: Hey what are you doing this weekend?
I stare at the message. Hopefully going on a date. But she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t even know I met someone.
I type back.
Me: I met someone. So hopefully a date.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Nellie: ARE YOU BUSY?????
I barely have time to read it before my phone starts ringing. It’s her. Of course she doesn’t want to hear an update of my life through messages.
I answer.
“What?!” She squeals into the line before I can even say hello. “Tell me everything.”
I lean back in my chair.
“First, hello to you, Nellie. Second, only if you take your voice down like five hundred octaves.”
“Fine, I can’t help it that I’m excited that my brother has finally met someone. It’s about time you forgot about him and moved on. So, start talking.”
“I'm at work,” I tell her.
“I don't care. Besides, you fucking work from home, so who’s going to turn you in? And, you’re your own damn boss. Now start spilling, or I’m jumping in my car and driving to you.”
“You’re ten hours away. It’ll take a while,” I remind her. Because I know for a fact she’d be here.
“Then I’ll fly.”
All I can do is laugh. I love my sister more than life itself. She’s my Irish twin. Eleven months apart. And she never forgets to remind me she’s older.
“Was he hot?” She doesn’t skip a beat and asks.
I bite back a laugh.
“Fine, yes, he was hot. Gorgeous.”
“How hot?”
“I don't know. Hot.”
“That is not a measurement. On a scale of ‘puppy dog to bend me over the table and fucking ravage me until I scream his name coming for the hundredth time hot’, how hot was he?”
I don’t answer right away because her scale is weird as hell, and because I don’t exactly know how to answer.
“I just met him, Nellie. So that scale is not helpful. He’s hot and that’s the only answer you're getting."
She gasps dramatically.
“How dare you mock the scale.” I can just see her, hand on her chest, mouth open in sheer shock. “But from your lack of answering, I’m going with the latter. Now, tell me what he looks like? How did you meet? Who initiated? I need all the tea.”
“Dark hair, chiseled jaw, muscular.” Just thinking about him has my cock stirring.
“He sounds so hot,” she coos. “Did he have an ass that could crack a walnut?”
I choke.
“He was sitting when we met and the only time he stood, his front was to me.”
“Booo,” she manages through laughter.
“You're pregnant,” I remind her. “And happily married.”
“I know. And your point is?”
“That you shouldn’t be obsessing over if his ass could crack a walnut.”
“You're unbelievable, Victor. I’m just looking out for you. And being married doesn’t mean I can’t look. Only that I can’t touch.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile.
“And I'm trying to be the best wing-sister out there.”
“You're the only sister I have.”
“Exactly. And I'm taking the responsibility seriously. So when are you going out?”
Before I can answer, my phone pings and I pull it away to see what it is and I freeze. It’s Jake. He’s messaged me.
My heart starts pounding so rapidly in my chest, I’m afraid I’m going to crack a rib or worse, have a heart attack.
“Oh my God.” I don’t even realize I said it out loud until Nellie speaks.
“What?”
“He messaged me,” I tell her, knowing she won’t stop asking if I don’t. And if I lie, well, she’s always been able to see through them. Even on the phone.
“What did he say?” I can hear the excitement in her voice.
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?” she blurts.
“I haven't read it.”
“You haven't read it?”
“No, I don't want to seem eager.”
“You went to his table!”
“I know.”
“You asked to sit with him!”
“Yeah.”
“You flirted with him! And he asked for your number!”
“And your point is?”
“Read the damn message!” The words come out slow and staccato.
“No, Nellie.”
“READ IT!” she screams and I flinch, pulling the phone away from my head to save my eardrums.
“You're insane.”
“So help me God if you don’t read the message, Victor, I’m going to be on a plane just so I can put my foot up your ass.”
“Fine.”
“Thank God,” she mumbles.
I tap the notification.
His message opens.
Jake: Hey, it's Jake. Just wanted to say it was really nice meeting you today. Hope the rest of your afternoon went well.
My stomach is flipping as I read the words over and over.
“You're quiet,” Nellie says.
I swallow.
“He said it was nice to meet me today. And he hopes my day is going well.”
“Okay. So what are you going to say?”
“I don't know.”
“You need something flirty.”
“I can't be too flirty.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“I don’t know, okay. In person I’m good. Texting is hard. A message can be taken in entirely the wrong way.”
Nellie laughs.
“Tell him you've been thinking about him too.”
“No.” I shut her down immediately.
“Tell him you’re glad he gave you his number.”
“Nellie, no. I’ve got to go.” I don’t really, but I need to get off the phone with her.
“What? No!” she pleads.
“I have work.”
“Wait! I want to hear what you say!”
“I'll tell you later,” I finally say, knowing I’m just going to hang up. “I love you, sis.”
“Don't you dare hang up—”
I end the call.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the screen.
My heart’s beating so fast, I feel lightheaded. My thumb hovers over the screen as I read the message again. Then my fingers start moving.
Me: I’m glad I asked to sit down. The day’s been good. I had the meeting, did some more work and then my sister called.
I stare at it. It isn't too eager or too cold that he’d think I didn’t want to talk to him.
It’s a safe message. I hit send before I can change my mind.
Then I set the phone down on my desk, and I wait. Immediately, two checks show up, and I know he’s gotten it and read it.
Jake: I'm glad you did too. It turned my whole day around.
I can’t help but smile. Because Jake’s sitting somewhere holding his phone in his hand and hopefully smiling just as much as I am.