9
“Yes.”
Jeremiah stiffens a bit. “With who?”
My brow furrows. “Since when did you get so nosy?” I don’t really feel like telling Jeremiah about my date with Scott right now. Macy hasn’t mentioned anything to me, meaning she probably doesn’t know Scott and I have been talking lately. If Scott hasn’t said anything to her yet, I’m certainly not going to leak the information, and telling Jeremiah guarantees Macy will hear about it.
“Why are you being so weird about it?” he snaps.
“I’m not being weird,” I say, glaring at him, even though maybe I am a little. “You’re the one who’s been weird lately. You keep getting upset with me out of nowhere. If something’s bothering you, just tell me.”
“Whatever. I’m going to lunch.”
I watch as Jeremiah shuffles off, shoving his hands in his pockets.
What is going on with him?
I purse my lips in frustration, then shake it off and get back to work. If he won’t talk to me, there’s nothing I can do, and right now I don’t have time to chase him down and try to force an answer out of him.
I keep working through my lunch, munching on an apple as I go, being careful not to get any of the juice on my laptop. My coffee has gone cold (as usual) and the mug is still almost full.
At the end of the break, Jeremiah comes back from lunch and passes by my cubicle without a word. My heart sinks a little as I start to worry that I did or said something really wrong.
How can I fix it if I don’t know what I did?
I stare down at my fingers resting on the keyboard of my laptop, chewing my lip as I try to recall my past few interactions with him. Maybe I’ve just been asking too much of him lately? But he said he didn’t mind…
I sigh and get back to work. Thankfully, I’m able to finish up all my tasks and the few scattered requests Monica sends me throughout the day. I grab my mug and take it to the kitchen, once again dumping my un-drunk coffee in the sink. Macy comes in behind me, carrying two cups of her own.
“You worked through lunch again,” she says, setting her cups next to the sink. “You should really stop doing that. You need to eat at least two meals a day, and I know you always skip breakfast.”
I shrug.
“Long day?”
“Sort of,” I say, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms. “Hey, has something been going on with Jeremiah?”
Macy cocks her head. “Jeremiah? I don’t think so… Why do you ask?”
“Well, lately he’s been so grouchy.”
“Lucy, he’s always grouchy.”
I snort. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then, what?”
I bounce my head from side to side, searching for the right words. “He seems fine one second, then the next he gets angry out of nowhere. I can’t get him to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Really? I don’t know. He’s never been very talkative with me, only with you.”
“I just don’t know what I could have done,” I say, staring down at my feet.
Macy taps my arm to get my attention. “Don’t worry about it. He’s, like, the equivalent of Oscar the Grouch. Whatever’s bothering him, he’ll get over it.”
“You really think so?”
“For sure.”
“Okay. Thanks, Macy.”
She smiles and nods, then pauses. “Hey, did you happen to get any text messages this week?”
I blink at her. “Yeah, only about five million from Monica.”
Macy laughs awkwardly. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. You didn’t get any… other texts?” She’s watching me expectantly, and I suddenly realize what she’s asking.
Scott got my number from Macy. She wants to know if Scott ever texted me without asking if Scott ever texted me, in case he didn’t.
Just as I start to scramble for an answer, Monica calls me from somewhere in the office.
“Oh, I need to go.”
“Sure,” Macy turns back to wash her mugs as I head for Monica’s office. I poke my head in and she glances up from a pad of paper in front of her.
“Hi. Do you have your notebook?”
“I’ll grab it right now,” I say. I slip over to my desk and swipe my notebook and pen, then return to Monica’s office. I sit down on one of the white chairs, easing onto it. When she first ordered them, she sent me out to get this fabric protector spray to prevent stains. I sprayed the heck out of these things, but to this day sitting on them still freaks me out.
“I need you to facilitate an online meeting with the marketing team tonight at six o’clock. I just emailed you the list of everyone who should be attending and the points I plan to go over.”
My frantic scribbling comes to a halt. “Tonight?”
Monica glances up at me. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
My nerves kick in as she locks eyes with me. I’ve never said no to working late before. I either notify her well in advance of my plans and add it to her calendar, or I just move my own schedule around to suit hers. I’m expected to be available; that’s part of my job.
But there’s no way I’m cancelling my first real date with Scott.
“Um, I have some important plans tonight.”
“Then, who will facilitate the meeting?”
I squeeze my notebook in my hands. “I can set everything up ahead of time. All you would need to do is start the meeting.”
“And who will take notes on what we discuss?”
My mind races for a second as I quickly come up with a solution. “I can set the meeting to automatically record so I can watch it back and take notes after the fact.”
Monica watches me for a moment, then nods. “Fine. Although, I prefer you to attend those meetings. I like for you to know what’s going on so we don’t need to backtrack when I give you tasks.”
I don’t answer, looking at my notebook as I write down the details of the meeting.
“Do you have a date?”
I freeze, my head whipping up to face her. How on earth does she know?
“Um, yes, I do.”
She nods, all business. “I assumed so. You’ve never had qualms moving your schedule around before.”
“Sorry…” I say, lamely.
“It’s fine. Have a good evening. Email everyone the details for the meeting, please.”
“Of course,” I say as I stand and go back to my desk. I work quickly, a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Something just shifted between Monica and I. I don’t know what.
“Where are you guys going?”
I sigh, unplugging my curling iron and taking one last look in the mirror. “I told you, Jessie, I don’t know. He said it’s a surprise.”
“What specifically did he say when you asked?”
“He said, ‘Tell Jessie it’s none of her business.’”
“Oh, come on, Lucy! He didn’t say that.”
I grin. “No, but I’m saying it.”
“Fiiiine,” she sighs dramatically and follows me to the kitchen, where Stephanie is cooking dinner for herself.
“Steph, how do I look?” I’m wearing a simple maroon dress, the one I wore to Macy’s wedding. It’s one of the few fancier things I own.
Stephanie turns her head and looks me up and down, then nods. “You look good.”
It might not seem like it, but that’s high praise coming from her.
“Hey, you could’ve asked me how you look,” Jessie says, putting her hands on her hips in annoyance.
I smile and turn to her. “I could’ve, but you’re so nice you would have said I looked pretty even if I was wearing a potato sack, and while I appreciate the support, I wanted an honest opinion.”
“Hey, Little Miss Sunshine,” Stephanie says, glancing at Jessie. “You want some spaghetti? I made way too much.”
“Heck yes!”
Just as Jessie answers, a knock sounds at the door. All three of us turn to look, and Jessie lets out a little excited squeal as she grabs my arm.
“Don’t say anything weird, okay?” I say, pulling my arm away as I go for the door.
Jessie’s forehead creases in confusion. “Why would I say anything weird?”
Stephanie snorts as she grins and rolls her eyes. I reach the door, resting a hand on the doorknob and taking a breath.
Here we go.
I pull it open, and Scott makes my breath catch.
“Hey, Lucy.”
I look up, his soft, green eyes meeting mine. His hair is styled decently, though it’s still a bit ruffled on top. Honestly, I think it makes him look that much cuter. His outfit consists of a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up partway, a belt, and black pants.
“Hi,” I smile, feeling myself becoming a pile of mush already.
“You look beautiful,” he says, smiling brightly. “Oh, uh, these are for you.” He whips a bouquet out from behind his back, some petals falling softly to the floor.
My eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, they’re beautiful!” I stare at the roses, their petals a mix of orange and a pinkish red. “This is my favorite flower. Not roses in general, I mean, this specific color.”
“Really? Good,” he smiles, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. “I called Macy when I was at the store to see if she knew what your favorite flowers are. She told me these and peonies, but I couldn’t find peonies. To be honest, I have no idea what peonies even are.”
I laugh. “These are perfect.”
Stephanie appears at my side and reaches out for the flowers. “I’ll put them in a vase for you.”
I give her an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
“Hi, Scott!” Jessie calls from over her plate of spaghetti.
He looks up and waves. “Hey.”
“Ready to go?” I ask.
“Yup.”
“Okay.” I grab my purse off the hook it’s hanging on by the door and throw it over my shoulder. I wave goodbye to Jessie and Stephanie as we step out of the apartment, then stop in front of the door and look up at Scott.
“So, what’s the plan?”
He straightens, then gives a little nod. “‘I’ve got some ideas.’” Once he says it, he turns on his heels and heads for the stairs, leaving me behind.
I blink at him, bewildered. Then, I remember.
“Hold on, did you just quote that scene from Elf?”
He stops and turns around, a bright grin breaking out on his face. “I knew you’d get it!”
I laugh and catch up with him, and we walk side by side down the stairs.
“That was risky,” I say. “Not everybody has the Elf movie practically memorized.”
“That’s because not everyone is as great as you.” I blush as Scott continues. “We used to talk about movies all the time at the café, remember?”
“We did, didn’t we?” I think back. It seems like a lifetime ago. “Working with you was a lot of fun.”
He puffs out his chest and brushes off his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”
I laugh and playfully shove him as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Really, though, where are we going?”
“Do you like burritos?”
My eyebrows lift. “Um, better question: who doesn’t like burritos?”
Scott smiles. “Good point.”
“Wait, so, you told me to get all dressed up so we could have takeout burritos in a random park on a picnic blanket?”
“Yep,” Scott nods, pulling the tinfoil off his burrito, then hesitates, turning to me. “Did I totally screw this up?”
I can’t help but laugh at the concern and utter terror in his expression. “Absolutely not. This is great.”
“You’re sure you’re not upset I didn’t plan something fancier?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I ate fast-food three times yesterday and walked around Party City with a leprechaun hat on my head. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m a fancy lady.’”
He watches me for a few more moments with worry, which makes my insides melt even more. I tilt my head and smile, leaning my shoulder into his arm. “Really, Scott, don’t worry.”
He nods gently, his gaze locked on my eyes. My minuscule movement has brought us infinitely closer, his face just inches from mine.
“I’m really glad I ran into you at the wedding, Lucy,” he whispers.
My face heats as I force my brain to function enough to respond. “Me too.”
A shout from somewhere else in the park startles me and pulls my attention away to see some kids roughhousing. When I turn back to Scott, he has his burrito unwrapped, holding it flat in one hand. He glances at me, then holds the burrito up. He lifts his other hand, hovering it directly above the burrito, then…
SMACK
I blink. “Did you just… slap your burrito?”
He nods, then slaps it again. “It’s the best way to tell if it’s a good one.”
I shoot him an amused look. “Really?”
“Mhm,” he nods confidently.
“Then, is it?”
“Is it what?”
“A good one.”
He clears his throat, scrunches his face into a serious expression, lifts the burrito once more, then gives it a good whack.
“Yup. It’s perfect.” He takes a massive bite and munches for a minute, then glances over. “Your turn.”
“My turn to what?” I raise my eyebrows. “You want me to slap my burrito?”
Instead of answering, he takes another bite of his, then motions to mine, which is still wrapped in foil. After a second, I pick it up and begin to unwrap it, unable to hide the smile slowly growing on my face.
“You’re so weird,” I say.
“Hey, I’m just trying to teach you the best ways to find good food.”
“And what makes you such a food expert?”
He gets that look of faux pride on his face again. “I’m pretty much a master chef.”
“Really?” My eyebrows rise. “You’re good at cooking?”
“Mhm,” he nods, more serious this time. “Tell me your favorite food and I’ll make it for you next time.”
Next time.
My heart beats a little faster, and I smile brightly. “Deal.”
I turn my attention back to my burrito and hold it flat in my hand like he’d done.
“I really don’t want to slap my burrito.”
Scott looks at me, then my food. “Okay, then I’ll do it for you.”
Before I realize what’s happening, he reaches over and slaps my burrito.
“Wha— hey!” I exclaim, whipping my burrito away from him. “You can’t just slap other people’s food!”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you whack mine,” he says, holding his half eaten burrito out to me.
“That doesn’t… Why would that make me feel better?”
“Come on, just do it!”
My eyebrows knit together in bemusement. I lift my hand to hit his burrito, but just as I reach out, he catches my hand and kisses it, then just as quickly releases it and goes back to eating, his cheeks tinged pink.
I gape at him, then at my hand.
What just happened?
I have to admit, that did make me feel better.
After a few more moments, I pick up my burrito, although the butterflies flying somersaults in my stomach have made me significantly less hungry. I stare hard at it, then slap it, just like Scott had done. He stops chewing and glances at me, his eyes bright with excitement, then he lets out a goofy laugh. “You did it!”
I can’t help but laugh as well as I finally start to eat.
“You know, I thought I’d be more mature by the time I was twenty-three,” I say after swallowing my mouthful of food.
Scott shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with having fun.”
“Speaking of fun,” I say, swallowing another bite of burrito, “what are your hobbies?”