32. Ana
CHAPTER 32
ANA
O n my first day back after the holiday break, another little white box greets me when I get to work. This time, it’s been placed on my chair, but of course, there’s no note. This dolphin, the fourth I’ve received, is painted a beautiful vivid blue and accented with colorful seashells at its base.
I add it to the collection, which I’ve arranged in the window. I keep waiting for someone to give it a certain look when they’re in my office, or avoid looking at them altogether, in a way that will tip me off to the sender’s identity, but that hasn’t happened.
I feel very weird about receiving all of these figurines. They’re beautiful, but the mystery behind them is beginning to give me a bad feeling, like there’s too much buildup now that this person has sent me so many of them.
Surely, there will be an inevitable reveal at some point, and I’m starting to feel like I’ll owe the person something I’m not prepared to give, like agreeing to go on a date with them, for example. It will be rude to try to give the gifts back, but simply saying thank you is going to seem awkward and inadequate.
Hopefully, I’m overthinking the situation, but I wish I could find a way to make the gifts stop.
When I go to the break room to store my lunch—which, of course, I’ve clearly marked with my name—there seems to be a special buzz in the air, which at first I assume has to do with the new year, and everyone still being in a festive mood, but it turns out there’s another reason.
“Have you tried the new beans yet?” Gloria asks. She’s just one of several people crowded into the room.
“What’s that?”
“We’re trying out a new blonde roast today. Derek and Jansen want to get everyone’s feedback.”
“Oh …” I know I’m not required to try it, but ever since my interlude with the men in the coffee-scented storage room downstairs, the aroma in the break room, with its freshly-ground beans, has been doing funny little things to my belly, as I remember how the men made me feel that day. “I guess I’ll try some.”
She reaches for a cup. “How do you like it?”
I glance at the screen, hoping options will appear so I can sound like I know what I’m talking about, but it’s just displaying size selection. “I’m in the mood to try something new. What’s your go-to?” I ask.
“I’m a girl who likes a little coffee with my cream and sugar, so I usually have a latte and add a lot of syrup.”
“Sure, a latte. That sounds good.”
People around me are sipping their morning beverages and talking about how they spent New Year’s Eve. Several of them went to special events and parties, and I’m grateful when no one questions me, because I spent the night at home reading.
“Do you want vanilla or caramel or …?” Gloria gestures to the rack of syrups, where there are several more options, but I opt for vanilla.
When she hands me the drink, I thank her and inhale the scent of it before taking a small sip. My pussy clenches as I remember my bosses fucking me so good up against that storage room wall that I was walking funny the next day. How odd is it to get turned on by the scent of coffee?
“Oh, this is good,” I say, surprised.
“Right?” Gloria says, sounding excited. “This new roast is going to be a great addition to our line.”
I meander back to my office, greeting people along the way, and stopping a couple of times to take more sips of my drink. Apparently, I’ve been missing out by not trying a latte sooner, because all this milk and sweet syrup makes a really tasty drink.
As the morning goes along, I find myself being extremely productive, but I suppose that’s typical after having time off. I feel refreshed and eager to tackle more goals during the remainder of my time here at Community Bean.
At lunch, the break room is busier than usual, with several people brewing more of the new coffee. I see a lot of the same energy and enthusiasm I’m feeling reflected in others, and maybe it’s the shared excitement of the new year.
On the way back to my desk, I hear strange sounds and identify them immediately. It’s Rob, singing, though it’s very different from before. He sounds like he’s having a fight with someone … in a vaguely rhythmic way. “I want to kill you … I’m going to smash you … you’re gonna die, die, die, motherfu–”
Before I can reach him to put a stop to his singing, two other people’s heads pop over the wall near his cubicle and yell, “Shut up!” at the same time.
Then Rob’s standing, too, yelling back at the people who complained. “You can’t talk to me that way!”
I’m afraid they’re about to get into a fight, but luckily, Charles hurries over from the other direction and gets involved, calling for everyone to calm down .
Since telling someone to calm down can sometimes have the opposite effect, I hurry over, ready to help diffuse the situation. I tell Rob that he probably didn’t realize how loud he was being, and to my relief, he mumbles an apology, sits back down, and returns to his work.
Once Rob’s back is turned, Charles shakes his head, more in irritation than amusement, even though the situation is pretty ridiculous. Rob must have the most eclectic playlists in existence.
“People need to calm down,” Charles mutters.
“Yeah, thanks for stepping in so quickly.”
He leans against the wall a few spaces down, appearing to settle in to talk. “Sure. Hey, you were off last week, weren’t you, Ana? How were your holidays?”
“Good. How about you?”
“Good, though I worked in between. It was quiet here, though.”
There’s a long beat of silence, and I fill it with questions about how his department’s doing and how they’re keeping up with project demands. He answers me, but the conversation is stilted, and he looks at me in a way that makes me vaguely uncomfortable, though even after knowing him for a couple of months now, I still can’t tell if he’s flirting or just interacts a bit differently than others do. After a few long minutes, I bring the discussion to an end and return to my office.
The next time I’m out in the wider office space, the buzz of energy persists. People seem to be moving faster, talking more, and are just generally busier than ever. As I’m walking up the aisle to return to my desk, someone bumps me as they rush past. It’s Imani, and as she hurries by, she calls out, “Watch where you’re going.”
Jackie sees the exchange and my bewilderment as Imani, a person I would have named as among the nicest in the office, leaves me in her dust.
“What’s going on today?”
I’m not expecting an answer, so I really feel like an idiot when Jackie says, “It’s the new blonde roast. Everyone’s on a caffeine high.”
Ahh. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The energy, the activity … the arguments. But … “But isn’t everyone here always hyped up on caffeine? Aren’t you all used to it?”
“I think everyone’s had an extra cup or two today,” Jackie explains. “And blonde roasts typically have a higher caffeine content. Even those of us with high tolerances are feeling it. A few minutes ago, my heart was skipping around like a kid with a new jump rope.”
All I can do is shake my head and laugh, though as I go back to my office, I’m left wondering if Derek and Jansen’s personalities would be any different if I substituted decaf for their usual high-octane drinks.
Later in the afternoon, I go to the break room to refill my water bottle one last time— not to get another latte—and Owen comes in.
“How’s your day been?” I ask. “Are you as highly caffeinated as everyone else?”
He grins. “Not quite. I used some restraint. How was your time off last week?”
“It was good. Very relaxing.”
“That’s good,” he says. “We missed you, though. Things weren’t quite the same here without you.”
“No?”
He leans back against the counter, assessing me. “You really brighten the place up.” The way he’s smiling at me makes me realize I shouldn’t have encouraged this conversation. His eyes even drop down to my lips once or twice.
“How were your holidays?” I ask.
“They were good. I got to spend time with my family.”
“That must have been nice.”
“It was, except my mom’s always asking when I’m going to bring a girlfriend home with me.”
The fact that he’s flirting couldn’t be more clear even if a neon sign was flashing the word above his head. On impulse, I decide to ask about the mystery gifts I’ve been receiving.
My water bottle is full, so I straighten the coffee cups and syrups on the shelves to keep busy. “Maybe you can help me with a problem.”
Owen nods, looking eager. “Sure.”
“It’s more of a mystery than a problem. Someone’s been anonymously leaving gifts on my desk every other week or so, and I wish I could figure out who, so I could thank the person.”
He appears genuinely surprised by this information, and so convincingly so, that I’d bet money he’s not the sender of the gifts. Maybe there’s someone I haven't considered?
“Have you asked around the office about the gifts?”
Just as Owen asks the question, and before I have a chance to answer, Derek comes in. “Is something wrong?”
“No, we’re just talking,” Owen says.
Derek doesn’t say anything, but he very pointedly checks his watch before looking back at Owen, making his message clear: you should be working and not standing around talking.
Owen either misses this obvious message or chooses to ignore it. “You’ve got a winner with the new blonde roast,” he tells Derek. “Everyone loves it. ”
Derek completely ignores him, turning his back on both of us as he pivots to the coffee machine.
Owen smiles at me and shrugs in a “what can you do” sort of way. He’s so easygoing; the contrast between him and the other man in the room is like night and day. “See you later, Ana.” He gives me a little wave. “If there's some way I can help you with your problem, just let me know.”
As soon as Owen’s out of the room, Derek’s deep voice cuts through the silence. “What problem?”
If he thought my helping Evelyn with a stolen lunch was trivial, there’s no way he’ll want to hear about me spending time trying to track down the source of mystery gifts. “No problem,” I say brightly, and he turns, narrowing his eyes on me, as if trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
He looks like he might press the issue, so before he can say more, I ask, “Any chance you and Jansen might have a few minutes to talk around five? I’d like to go over my goals for the month with you both.”
He continues to stare at me, his eyes dropping down my body briefly, though more in an appreciative way, than an “I want to rip your clothes off” kind of way.
Speaking of clothes, he’s in a pale blue shirt that looks new and makes his skin glow with warmth. Maybe he got some sun during the holidays, because he looks especially vibrant, and my fingers tingle with the urge to touch him.
Energy seems to vibrate between us, but maybe that’s my imagination, or all the caffeine pumping through both of our bodies. No doubt the very air in the room is filled with caffeine particles.
With me still trapped in his gaze, he finally says, “Come by when you’re ready.” He turns and strides out, though he doesn’t take a cup of coffee with him, so what was he even doing in here?