32. KAYLA
32
I don’t typically get flushed cheeks, but I’m sure a tomato would be jealous standing next to me right now.
I stare at my screen, my gaze fixed on infinity, head low to make sure I don’t let my eyes wander to Agnes across from me.
My heart thumps vigorously for more than one reason, preventing me from refocusing on what I was doing before Bodi did the unthinkable and pressed his lips against mine. In the office. In front of Agnes, and– holy fucking shit.
He’s been adamant about not crossing that line, knowing it could lead to a lot of backlash not just for him, but also for me. If word goes out I’m fucking the boss in his office, the publishing world will have a field day with that. Not to mention how it would tarnish what little reputation I build at KPI.
But not that he did, I’m both giddy and worried. The depth of that kiss reverberates through every ounce of energy I possess, filling me with hope that perhaps he’s ready to take the next step. It was filled with need, an unspoken plea for support, and part of me wanted to snatch my jacket and go with him. The only reason I didn’t is because he told me not to, and the expression on his handsome yet troublesome face made it clear he needed to do this alone.
My thoughts are interrupted by the squeaking of Agnes’s chair as she gets up, and I duck deeper into my screen.
I know she saw that, and I have no idea how she will respond. I like Agnes, and I think she likes me too. She reminds me of Nana, just sweeter, and I’d hate for her to change her opinion on me because of my involvement with her boss.
God, it sounds so bad when I put it like that.
I’ve been fearlessly voicing to Bodi how I don’t care what the world will think if they did find out about us, but I understand. But now that the cat is out of the bag with the one woman at KPI I respect like a family member, I feel jittery as fuck.
Her soft steps round her desk, before they lead her to me, standing beside me.
“Kayla?”
I hum, my gaze staring at the word on my screen, though not reading a fucking word it says.
“Look at me,” her caring voice tempts me.
“I’d rather not.”
She takes a seat on my desk, resting her warm palm on my wrist to force my attention her way. I suck in a deep breath, bracing myself for what I’m about to find in her matured gaze before I slowly twist my chin in her direction.
“I’m not judging.” The tender smile sitting on her burgundy lips shows no lies, and I exhale in relief when her coffee brown eyes radiate the same kindness behind her glasses.
“You’re not?”
She squeezes my arm. “Honey, I applaud you for keeping it behind closed doors for so long, but I knew the second you strolled out of here with a suitcase behind you to live with Bodi. This is nothing new to my ears. What is new is the fact that you’re embarrassed about it. You’re not the kind of girl that hides stuff.”
My heart stops for just a second, thinking about the secret no one knows except my Stanford friends. None of whom has called me since I left months ago though.
“You never call him Bodi,” I quip, doing my best to push my gloom away.
Her grin expands, and she winks. “Not when he’s around, but the boy could be my son. I sure as hell don’t call him Mr. McKay when I’m at home with my husband.”
I laugh, loving her spunk. I hope I’m this fiery when I’m her age.
“You wanna tell me what’s got you all awkward and worked up about it, though?”
I whine, giving her a tortured expression. “Do I have to?”
I don’t mind spilling my whole life story to this woman, but I’d rather do it over a bottle of wine and I’m still a fucking minor. Which is bullshit if you ask me. A fucking technicality.
“Are you kidding me, girl?” Her eyebrows rise above the rim of her spectacles. “I’ve been looking for a moment to get to the bottom of this for months! I’m not going to let it pass before you give me some answers.” Her expression brims with hopes and anticipation, and I burst out in laughter.
Fuck, this woman reminds me of myself so much.
“Fine!” I fake grumble. “What do you wanna know?”
“First time?”
I cast my eyes downward, suppressing the urge to lift my cheeks. “New Years party.”
“I knew it! You two were gone for way too long, after I saw you both disappear.”
Oh, god . I should’ve known Agnes would notice.
“It’s not the first time, though,” I emphasize. “We had a fling last summer. He’s best friends with my cousin’s boyfriend. I didn’t think I’d sleep with him again, let alone whatever we’re doing now. It was just some silly infatuation. An amazing memory of a hot summer with an older man before I went back to school. But when he walked out of that elevator that first day, I knew whatever I felt for him wasn’t gone. And it spread like wildfire the moment I moved in with him.”
She nods in agreement. “Are you together?”
Are we together ?
I like to think we are. I mean, technically we are. We eat together, sleep together, go out together, talk, live and breathe the same space. But we haven't talked about being together. I’m afraid to bring it up, though moments like just now make me wonder if I should.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “We made rules after the New Years party. No flirting at the office. No PDA. Friends . But we didn’t want to label it.”
“Both of you? Or just him?”
This woman is way too perceptive.
“Him,” I confess. “I want to be brave and ask him what’s going on between us, but I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Her kind eyes encourage me.
To feel stupid, mostly. What if I push him to cross a line he has been very clear he doesn’t want to cross and I ruin everything? You dumb bitch. You keep following me around like a puppy.
Bodi never spoke to me like that, but it still lingers in my head everytime I’m tempted to have the conversation we’re both dreading. What if this is nothing more than an itch he needs to scratch? What if he likes to have me as a friend, enjoying the benefits but me wanting more will have him pushing me out the door?
What if he doesn’t feel the same?
What if he thinks I’m just a young girl obsessed with her boss?
I suck in a deep breath, straightening my spine. “I’m scared he’ll think I’m just a silly little girl falling in love with her boss and this was always just fun for him.” I exhale every little bit of air as soon as the last word rolls off my lips.
There. I said it. I confessed, and as much as I’m keeping my brows pinched together, afraid she’ll confirm my suspicions with her own observations, it also feels good to let it out.
“Oh, honey.” Her smile is warm, her eyes filled with a motherly expression. “You don’t really think that’s the case when he just kissed you like you were his fucking life line?”
My eyes widen. “You just said fucking .”
“I’m aware,” she chortles, “don’t change the subject.”
I hold her gaze, her words slowly settling in my brain.
“The boy has a lot on his plate. I’ve seen him change last year, his energy becoming darker by the day, and after you told me about his father’s condition, I understood why. But I also saw his smile become brighter every day since you walked through that door,” she points at the elevator, “suitcase and all. You’re not just fun for him.”
“I really want to believe that.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
“Fucking head over heels.” I really wish I wasn’t but I can’t sit here and lie to her.
She nods, a pleased frown on her lips. “I know I’m just an old woman, sitting here five days a week because I can’t stand doing nothing all day, but let me tell you something. I’ve seen numerous people in my life fall in love. There’s a certain look, a typical expression that falls over people’s eyes when caring for someone…changes to loving someone. And let me tell you something, girl. That boy? He’s been in love with you long before he took you to his office to do dirty things with him.”
“Agnes!” I gasp, squealing in laughter as I slap her leg.
“You don’t have to deny it, child. I might be old, but I’m well experienced.”
And just like that, my tomato shade returns in its full glory.
“I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty mouth!”
“Please! If I were your age, we’d be besties.”
I smile, eyes sparkling. “I think we already are.”
“Good, then listen to me.” Her head turns downward to find my eyes, her voice lowering. “He might not be ready to admit he’s in love with you, but he is. It’s all dripping from his smitten gaze when you enter a room. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”