6
“Of course not.”
Scott opens the door and I step inside, already excited by the first display I see. I immediately gravitate to a rack full of sketchbooks, picking up a hardbound, toned gray sketchbook, my favorite kind of paper to work on. As I flip through the gloriously blank pages, Scott steps up beside me, leaning over my shoulder slightly to look at the sketchbook. His cologne smells good; a warm, sharp scent that makes my heart flutter.
“So, you like art?”
I nod, closing the sketchbook as I glance up at him. I blush at how close he is and take a small step back.
“I used to draw all the time in high school,” I admit, putting the sketchbook back to flip through another. “I thought I wanted a career of some kind in art, so I worked really hard to improve my skills. I spent most of my free time doing it. But then, I worked so hard to get better and was so critical of my own work that I sort of ended up hating it.”
“Do you ever draw now?” He asks.
I straighten back up. “Sometimes. I think about drawing often, but… I don’t know. I guess I still only see the flaws when I draw.”
Scott studies me for a few seconds until I turn to scan the sketchbooks once more. He walks a few steps away to another stand and stares at something, clearly confused.
“What are these for?”
I move to get a closer look as he lifts up a small bag of paper blending stumps.
“You use those to blend graphite or charcoal,” I say, picking up another set. “It’s… like a pencil without lead. You hold it the same way; it just spreads the graphite around instead of adding more to the page.”
“Huh. Do you ever use these?”
I shake my head. “No. Tissues and cotton balls do the same thing, and they work better. In my opinion, I mean.”
Scott glances at them once more. “You know, these look like they’d be great for picking your nose.”
I blink. “…what?”
Scott just smiles and puts them back.
“How do you come up with these things?” I laugh.
He shrugs, his eyes sparkling. “Can I see some of your drawings?”
“No way,” I frown, then move towards a display of alcohol-based markers.
Yikes, the price has really gone up since I last bought some of these.
“Oh come on, Lucy!” Scott leans into my line of sight, tapping me on the arm. “Please?”
My eyes meet his, and I can’t help giving in. “Maybe sometime.”
“Sometime… So does that mean you’d be open to going out with me again? You know, sometime?”
The butterflies in my stomach all take off in mass migration, and my eyes widen.
He wants to know if I would go out with him again? So this means he wants go out with me again?
Yes. Yes yes yes.
“I’d lo—” Just as I start to answer, my pocket starts to buzz, and I instantly pull my phone out. It’s a knee jerk reaction. I get several calls and texts a day, almost always from Monica, and it’s part of my job to answer them as quickly as I can. But why would she be calling me now?
That’s when I realize I’ve made a mistake.
Today is Saturday. I’m supposed to have picked up catering and set up dinner for her board meeting, none of which I have done. Is it time for the meeting already? Just how late am I?
I swallow hard. “Scott, what time is it?”
“It’s… a quarter after four,” he says.
Okay. Okay, dinner isn’t until six o’clock. She isn’t calling because you forgot. You still have time.
I take a deep breath, trying to get my frazzled self to chill out before answering the phone.
“Lucy?” Scott watches me, his brow furrowed in concern. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just have to take this.”
“No problem,” he says.
I tap the button and raise my phone to my ear.
“Hi, Monica.”
“Hi, did you order catering for tonight yet?”
Shoot, I should have placed the order much earlier. I’m never this late.
“No, not yet,” I answer.
“Great. Can you order from that new sushi restaurant instead? Just text the board members the menu and ask them for their orders. Use my card, as usual. And get yourself something if you want.”
“Right, will do.” I switch to speaker as I Google sushi restaurants in the area, completely relieved that she isn’t upset that I haven’t ordered the food yet. I find the newest restaurant and pull up the menu. “Do you need the menu or do you have your order?”
“Get me the spicy salmon roll.”
“Got it.” I type out a note. “Is the meeting still at six?”
“I need to move it to five. My daughter is having friends over tonight.”
I pause. Five? That only gives me thirty minutes to get the orders from everyone, pick the food up, and set up the meeting room. How am I going to get this done in time?
I squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn’t matter, worrying doesn’t help. I just have to get it done.
“Okay, I’ll have it ready at five.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I hang up and shoot the menu off to each of the board members, nearly forgetting about Scott.
“Hey, everything okay?”
I jump and glance up at him, then back down at my phone as everyone starts texting me their orders. “I’m sorry, that was my boss. I have to go.”
“Isn’t today your day off?”
I shake my head, still tapping away at my screen. “Not really. I work a little on Saturday evenings.”
“Every Saturday evening?”
“Most.” The last order comes in (thank goodness these people always have their phones on them), and I pull up the number of the restaurant. “I’m really sorry, Scott.” I look up at him, feeling awful for cutting the day short, but also feeling the mounting stress from the need to get going. “I have to get food ordered and set up by five. I have to go.”
Scott nods. “Okay, let’s go.”
I turn and move to the door, and he follows me out. I call the restaurant on speaker, reading off the orders as we walk back to the car.
“They’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” the woman says.
“Twenty minutes?” I purse my lips, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I put my phone in my pocket as we reach the parking lot of the café.
“How are you going to get this done by five? The food won’t even be ready. Do you want some help?” Scott asks. He’s being so patient.
“Thank you, but I’ll take care of it,” I say, reaching for my keys and moving to my car door. “I’m really sorry to cut things short. I was having a great time.”
Scott smiles, but there’s something else in his expression. Disappointment? Concern? Or maybe he’s annoyed?
“Me too. I’m sorry you have to work tonight.”
“It’s my job. It’s fine,” I smile. But for the first time in a long time, working on my sort of day off doesn’t feel fine at all.
“Have a good night,” Scott says.
I nod as I pull open the door to my car and slide in, distracted by my lack of time. “You too.”
I pull up to the office at four forty-five p.m. and hurry inside. I have to get the meeting room setup, and since the food won’t be ready for another five minutes anyway, I might as well make the most of my time.
I whip my keys out of my purse and open up the office door, hardly noticing that the alarm is already turned off as I rush inside. In the meeting room, I pull the coffee maker out of the cabinet and plug it in, then reach for the mugs and coffee grounds.
“What’s the rush?”
I startle, slamming my nose into the edge of the cabinet. My eyes immediately start watering as I land back on my rear. “Shoot!”
“Woah, I’m sorry,” Jeremiah says. “I thought you knew I was here.”
“Now I do,” I grumble, quickly pushing myself up on my feet and sniffling as I grab the mugs I dropped. “I’m in a rush right now, Monica changed the restaurant she wanted me to order from and moved the meeting up to five today.”
“Yikes. Need help?”
I shake my head, then stop. “Actually…” I turn to look at Jeremiah, chewing my lip in indecision. He sighs as his shoulders droop.
“What? What do you want me to do?”
“The food is supposed to be ready now, but I need to finish setting up the drinks and coffee bar,” I say, tapping the counter. “Do you think maybe you could—”
“What restaurant did you order from?”
I perk up immediately. “Jeremiah, you’re a lifesaver!”
“I know. Where do you want me to pick up the food from?”
“The new sushi place in town. The order was placed under Lucy Greene.” I dig out my wallet and hold the card out to him. “Here’s the card.”
“Got it. I’ll be back.”
“Thank you so much!”
Jeremiah heads out, and I continue setting up, pulling out cups, napkins, bottled waters, cans of sparkling water, single use creamers, stirring sticks, and everything else Monica likes to have available. The door opens again and Monica passes by.
“Hi, Lucy,” she says without stopping.
“Hey!” I call back. She’ll go to her office until the meeting starts.
With one minute to go, the first of the board members walks in, says a polite hello, then takes a seat at the table. Jeremiah follows in just behind. He must have been driving well over the speed limit to make it back so quickly.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper as two more board members file in.
He gives me a half smile as he hands over the food and the card, then waves as he leaves. He knows it’s better if Monica doesn’t see him helping me. She caught him helping me once, and she wasn’t too happy about it. Monica doesn’t pay him to do my job; she pays me to do it.
I pull the food out of the bags and set them on the counter for everyone to find their orders, then leave. I pass by Monica as she enters the meeting room, and she gives me a wave, her attention on the board members already. I grab my purse and slip back out the office door, once again jumping as Jeremiah reaches out and pats my arm.
“Geez!” I snap, taking a deep breath.
He shoots me a weird look. “You’re jumpy today.”
I sigh. “Just stressed, I guess.”
He nods silently, walking with me back to my car. “You look pretty dressed up. Been busy?”
“Yeah, I was meeting up with a friend. I had to leave early though. To setup the dinner.”
Jeremiah shrugs. “Gotta do what you gotta do. It’s your job.”
“Mhm,” I agree, though I don’t really feel I was fair to Scott. “Thank you for your help. Really. I couldn’t have had it ready in time without you.”
Jeremiah just shakes his head, looking away. “No problem. Hey… are you busy tonight?”
“Why?” I ask.
“Well, I was just about to go grab some dinner. You could come too, if you want. You could pick the restaurant.”
“Thanks, but after all this, I’m kinda tired. I think I’ll just go home and crash.”
“Oh. Sure, of course.”
“What were you even doing here tonight anyway?” I ask.
“I left my laptop here yesterday by accident. Came to pick it up.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I tilt my head, remembering how strange Jeremiah had been acting at the end of the wedding yesterday. “So, are you feeling better?”
His eyebrows draw together. “What?”
“It’s just—yesterday you seemed pretty upset when we left the wedding, and I was worried something might have been wrong.”
He scowls a bit. “No, I’m fine. Nothing is wrong.”
I stare at him, unconvinced. “Are you sure? Because all of a sudden you look just as angry as you did last night.”
“I’m fine, Lucy.”
He certainly doesn’t look fine.
“Do you need a hug or something?”
His eyebrows rise. “No! I’m fine. Really.”
“What was that reaction? Are you scared of hugs?”
“Shut up.”
I laugh, and the intensity of Jeremiah’s frown lessens.
“Thank you again for your help,” I say, then I hesitate. “You know… I am pretty hungry, and I owe you now for helping me tonight. I’m probably going to pick up something to eat anyway… I’ll take you up on dinner, as long as you let me pay.”
He perks up. “Really? Sweet. Where do you want to go?”
“How do you feel about Chinese food?”
“That’s fine.”
We discuss a few options in town, then decide on the most popular one.
I nod. “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”
“Cool,” he says, smiling, then he turns to go to his own car.
I fish my keys from my purse and unlock the door, then slide into my car, taking a moment to breathe before leaving for the restaurant. Once again, work crisis averted. Job well done.
But what about Scott? We were having such a great day, or at least, I was. He had just asked me if—
I freeze, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.
Scott had asked me if I wanted to go out with him again, and I never answered. Monica called and interrupted, and I didn’t tell Scott yes or no. I grab my phone, opening up my messages with him, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard…
Should I text him now and tell him yes? No… that would be weird, right? But I don’t want him to think I don’t want to go out with him. It was pretty rude of me to cut things so short, even if it was for work… But if I message him about it now, I’ll just sound desperate, then he really won’t want to go out with me. He probably changed his mind already anyway, after I just left like that. But what if…
My mood and thoughts continue to spiral for a few more minutes, until finally I lock my phone and chuck it on the passenger seat, no message sent, burying my face in my hands.
I think I just ruined things before they even started.
I burst through the office doors fifteen minutes later than I should be. Macy pops up from behind her computer and smiles.
“Is she here yet?” I ask.
Macy shakes her head. “Mm-mm, you’re good.”
I let out a massive sigh of relief and lean over the reception desk, finally returning Macy’s smile. “Good morning,” I say.
“I’m about to make it even good-er,” she says, lifting up a McDonald’s bag and holding it out to me.
My eyes widen as my stomach rumbles. I majorly overslept this morning and had to rush out of the apartment without breakfast. In this moment, a McDonald’s bag is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Macy laughs at my obvious elation at the sight of food. “Take it! I ordered extra so there would be some for you.”
I reach out for the bag and glance inside to find two hash browns (my favorite thing from McDonald’s), then glance back at Macy.
“I love you,” I say.
She grins and returns to work as I head to my desk.
I circle around to my cubicle, then set my bag down, pulling out my laptop and powering it on as I munch on a hash brown. I spin in my office chair and check my phone to find a text from Monica saying she’ll be in around ten thirty today.
Guess I didn’t need to go all “Speed Racer” in traffic this morning.
Once my laptop is on, I open my emails, scrolling through to make sure there isn’t anything too pressing, then I check for the daily to-do list Monica always sends. Today, there are six things she’s listed, plus another email adding something she forgot. Not too bad—I can probably finish most of these before she comes in and gives me the rest of the tasks for the day.
I stand, wiping my fingers free of hash brown grease on my jeans (I know, not very responsible-twenty-three-year-old-adult of me) and head to the break room to make a cup of coffee. I grab my favorite mug from the cabinet, then choose a coffee pod and slip it into the coffee maker. As it brews, I rub my temples, still trying to wake myself up. Unbidden, the image of Scott’s smile flashes in my mind, and any residual joy I feel from the surprise hash browns fades.
It’s Thursday now. That’s five days since I ruined our date on Saturday.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages with Scott. He hasn’t stopped talking to me completely, but I’m not sure where he’s at when it comes to going on another date. We’ve texted a bit over the past few days, mostly just inconsequential things. Scott started it on Sunday when he texted to ask if everything worked out alright for me on Saturday night. After that, we continued to text for a bit, and he texted me a couple of times over the following days as well.
But, unfortunately, there hasn’t been any talk of getting together again. I think I might have scared him off, or upset him, or maybe he just thinks I don’t really like him. I don’t know. If he ran off on me at the end of a date like I did to him, how would I feel?
The continuous stream of coffee turns to a drip, then stops as liquid reaches the brim of my mug. I stare at it for a few moments, lost in thought as the last few drops plop into the cup, sending ripples across the top.
I want to text him. I want to tell him I never got to answer his question, and that I very much would like to go out with him again…