10. Corey
10
COREY
S eth drones on about quarterly projections while I check my phone under the conference table. Another message from Abbie lights up my screen.
Psychology lecture is so boring tonight. Save me.
My lips twitch. I type back: Pay attention. I don't want to pay my therapist anymore.
"You couldn't afford my rates ;)"
The winking emoji makes my chest flutter. I glance up as Seth changes slides, pretending to take notes.
When's your next shift? Need to ensure proper supervision of my investment.
Saturday night. Not enough time for my bloody mary to have improved.
I'll fall on the sword. Someone needs to taste test.
Seth clears his throat. I look up to find him staring at me, one eyebrow raised.
"Something more important than our profit margins, Corey?"
"Just checking some numbers." I slip the phone into my pocket, ignoring the vibration of her reply.
The meeting drags for another twenty minutes. I catch maybe every third word, my mind wandering to dark curls and hazel eyes. When Seth finally dismisses everyone, I look at my phone again.
Her last message reads: Better bring your A-game critiquing skills then. I've been practicing.
Looking forward to it. I might need multiple samples to give a proper assessment.
Careful, Mr. King. That sounds dangerously close to flirting.
The formality of "Mr. King" shouldn't affect me like this. I'm too old to get butterflies from a text message. And yet…
Would that be so terrible?
Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear again. My heart shouldn't race waiting for a response from someone nearly half my age.
I suppose not. RIP Bloody Mary.
"Corey?" Seth's voice breaks through my Abbie-induced haze. "Your thoughts on the Miller account?"
"Hmm?" I tap my pen against the legal pad, which contains exactly two words: 'quarterly review.' "Sorry, run that by me again?"
His eyes narrow. He clicks to the next slide, but I'm already back to composing my text response.
"Earth to Corey." A wadded-up post-it note bounces off the table near me. "The projections for Q3?"
"Right, yes. Let's table that for now. I need to review the numbers more thoroughly."
The rest of the board files out, leaving Seth and me alone in the conference room. He relaxes against the table, arms crossed.
"Okay, what’s going on? You've been grinning at your phone like a teenager for the past hour. What gives?"
"Nothing gives." I stuff my phone in my pocket, but it vibrates again.
"Bullshit. I haven't seen you this distracted since..." He pauses, thinking. "Actually, I've never seen you this distracted. Who is she?"
"What makes you think it's a she?"
"Because I know that look. That's the 'I met someone' look." He drops into the chair next to me. "Come on, man. We've been friends for fifteen years. Give me something here."
I run a fist through my hair. "She's... young."
"How young are we talking?"
"Twenty-four."
He whistles low. "Damn. Where'd you meet her?"
"The speakeasy."
"Our speakeasy? Please tell me she's not an employee."
The silence stretches between us.
"Christ, man."
"She's practically my son's age," I mutter, rubbing my temples. My leather chair creaks as I shift my weight. "Hell, she could've gone to school with him."
"And?" Seth lounges back, loosening his tie. "Last I checked, your son was spending daddy's money on tow truck fees and trashed hotel rooms, while this girl's working nights and going to school. Age is just a number, my friend."
My phone shows notifications again. I try not to check it.
"Silver foxes are in, haven't you heard?" His grin spreads wider. "Besides, not everyone his age is as..." He pauses, searching for the right word.
"Immature as fuck?"
"I was going to say 'developmentally challenged,' but yours works too." He stands, straightening his jacket. "Look, you're not exactly robbing the cradle here. She's an adult with a job and goals. When's the last time you met someone who actually interested you?"
The conference room feels suddenly too warm. I pull at my collar. "That's not the point."
"That's exactly the point. You've spent the last hour smiling at your phone like a fucking virgin. I…” He trails off, knowing better than to finish that thought. "Just don't overthink it."
"Too late." I reach for my phone, Abbie's last message still waiting for a response. "What if-"
"Nope." Seth snatches the phone from my hand. "No what-ifs. You like her. She's clearly into you. Stop making it complicated."
"Since when are you the voice of reason?"
"Since you started acting like a nervous freshman asking someone to prom." He tosses my phone back. "Now, are we done with this heart-to-heart? Because I've hit my emotional support quota for the month."
Seth drops back into his chair, propping his feet on the conference table. "So, what's she look like? Please tell me she's not another Karen type."
"Hell no." The image of Abbie tending bar floods my mind. "She's..." My fingers tap against the armrest, searching for words that won't sound completely lovesick. "She has this wild curly hair, dark brown. When she gets flustered, she tucks it behind her ear, but it never stays put."
"Ah shit, you're already gone, aren't you?"
"Her eyes are this impossible shade of hazel. They catch the light overhead and..." I trail off, catching Seth's smirk. "What?"
"Nothing. Please, continue waxing poetic about her eyes."
"Fuck off." I loosen my tie. "She's got curves that make me forget how to form complete sentences. And when she smiles..." I shake my head. "It's not just physical though. She's smart. Working on her psychology degree. Has this dry wit that catches me off guard."
"Sounds like someone's finally met their match in the sass department."
"The other night, she told this drunk frat boy who wouldn't leave her alone that she'd already met her quota for psychoanalyzing daddy issues for the evening."
Seth barks out a laugh. "I like her already."
"She's... different. Real. No pretense, no agenda. Just trying to make it through school and build something for herself."
"Jesus." Seth kicks his feet off the table. “You’re being ridiculous and over the top. When are you seeing her again?"
"Saturday. She's working."
"You mean you're going to creep on her and pretend you're just there to check on business?"
"Something like that."
"That settles it, then." Seth sets his tablet down on the table with a firm clap. "I'm going with you."
"Oh no. Absolutely not." I gather my papers from the conference table. "You'll scare her off."
"Me?" Seth presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm a hellish delight. Besides, I need to meet the woman who's got you checking your phone every two seconds."
"Your version of 'delight' usually involves inappropriate questions and borderline harassment."
"Come on." He trails me to my office. "I'll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor."
"You were never a scout. Not then, not now."
"Details." He drops into the chair opposite my desk. "What are you afraid of? That I'll tell her about the time you drunk-dialed the CEO of Microsoft?"
"That was fifteen years ago."
"And it's still hilarious." Seth leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Look, we own the place. It's perfectly reasonable for both partners to check in on a Saturday night."
I loosen my tie, considering. "I swear to god, If you embarrass me-"
"I would never." His grin widens. "Much."
"Seth."
"Fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman. No embarrassing stories. No inappropriate questions. Just a casual drink at our establishment while I observe what's got my best friend acting like a lovesick puppy."
"I do not act like-"
"It's a date. Saturday night." He stands, straightening his jacket. "Though not literally, since you'll be too busy making eyes at the hot bartender."
"Get out of my office."
His laughter echoes down the hall as he leaves. I check my phone, finding another message from Abbie.
Just aced my psych exam.
My reply is immediate: Really proud of you.
Awww……thanks, Dad
Why am I getting turned on at the though of her calling me “Dad”? The thought of her in a subservient position does funny things to my pants. The weekend can’t come soon enough.