7. Mireille
Mireille
The morning of the kite flying event arrives with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze—perfect conditions for getting a kite airborne. As I stand in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear, I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.
It's been three days since that lunch with Evander, where he made it clear that nothing could happen between us.
The past few days at work have been... awkward, to say the least. We've both been overly polite, careful not to cross any lines or create situations where we might be alone together.
It's been professional, but lacking the warmth and easy banter we once shared.
And now here I am, about to spend a day at the beach with him, flying a kite of all things. I groan, flopping back onto my bed. What was I thinking when I agreed to this?
My phone buzzes with a text from Lilian.
Lil: Good luck today! Remember, sun, sand, and a shirtless Evander. What could be better?
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. Leave it to Lil to try and cheer me up.
Finally settling on a cute sundress and sandals, I head out to meet Evander at the beach. As I approach our designated meeting spot, I see him standing there, looking decidedly out of place in his usual button-down shirt and slacks.
"Evander," I call out as I near him, "you do realize this is a beach event, right? Not a board meeting?"
He turns, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in my appearance. Is it my imagination, or does his gaze linger a bit longer than necessary?
"Mireille," he says, clearing his throat. "You look... nice."
"Thanks," I reply, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at his compliment. "You look... warm."
He glances down at his outfit and shrugs. "I don't exactly own 'beach attire'."
I can't help but laugh. "Well, you're in luck. I came prepared." I reach into my bag and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of board shorts I picked up for him yesterday. "Here. There are changing rooms over there. Go make yourself comfortable."
Evander looks at the clothes, then back at me, an unreadable expression on his face. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," I say softly. "I wanted to. Now go change before you melt."
He hesitates for a moment before taking the clothes and heading towards the changing rooms. As I watch him go, I can't help but wonder what he'll look like in more casual attire. The thought sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze.
When Evander returns, I have to remind myself to breathe. The t-shirt hugs his chest in all the right places, revealing muscular arms I never knew existed under those stuffy suits. The board shorts sit low on his hips, showing off a tantalizing strip of skin. He looks... well, he looks hot.
"Better?" I manage to ask, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
Evander nods, looking slightly uncomfortable but undeniably more relaxed. "Yes, thank you. This is... more suitable for the occasion."
I force myself to look away from his newly revealed physique and focus on the task at hand. "Right. Well, shall we go get our kite?"
We make our way to the registration table where Lilian is handing out kites to the participants. Her eyes widen as she takes in Evander's transformation.
"Well, well, Mr. Prescott," she says with a grin, "who knew you were hiding all that under those stuffy suits?"
I feel a surge of irrational jealousy at Lilian's open appreciation of Evander. Which is ridiculous, because I have no claim on him. He made that perfectly clear.
Evander, for his part, looks uncomfortable with the attention. "Yes, well. The kite?"
Lilian hands us a brightly colored kite with a knowing smirk. "Have fun, you two. And remember, it's all about teamwork."
As we walk away, I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Sorry about Lil," I mutter. "She can be a bit... much sometimes."
Evander shakes his head. "It's fine. She seems... enthusiastic."
We find a spot on the beach and start to unwind the kite string. I'm acutely aware of how close we're standing, of the way Evander's arm brushes against mine as we work.
"So," I say, trying to break the tension. "Have you ever flown a kite before?"
Evander shakes his head. "Can't say that I have. It wasn't exactly a priority in business school."
I laugh, the sound carrying on the ocean breeze. "Well, you're in luck. I used to fly kites all the time as a kid. I'll teach you."
I step behind him, reaching around to guide his hands on the string. I can feel the heat of his body against my chest, smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the salty air. It's intoxicating.
"Like this," I say softly. "You need to feel the wind; let it guide the kite."
Evander tenses for a moment before relaxing into my guidance. Together, we launch the kite into the air, watching as it soars higher and higher.
"We did it!" I exclaim, grinning up at him.
As we watch our kite soar through the sky, I can't help but feel a sense of joy. Evander, too, seems more relaxed than I've ever seen him, a small smile playing on his lips as he maneuvers the kite string.
"You're a natural," I tell him, grinning. "Are you sure you've never done this before?"
He chuckles, a sound that sends warmth spreading through my chest. "Beginner's luck, I suppose. Or maybe I just have a good teacher."
Our eyes meet for a moment, and I feel that familiar spark of electricity between us. But before I can dwell on it, a strong gust of wind catches our kite, pulling it sharply to the left.
"Oh no!" I exclaim, instinctively reaching out to help Evander control the string. In my haste, I forget about my injured arm and wince as pain shoots through my wrist.
"Mireille, be careful!" Evander says, concern evident in his voice.
But it's too late. In my attempt to grab the string with my good hand, I lose my balance on the soft sand. I stumble forward, crashing into Evander's chest. He tries to steady me, but the momentum is too much. We both go tumbling to the ground, me landing on top of him in a tangle of limbs.
For a moment, we just lie there, stunned. I'm acutely aware of every point where our bodies are touching—his firm chest against mine, our legs intertwined, his hands on my waist where he tried to catch me.
I lift my head to apologize, only to find Evander's face mere inches from mine. His blue eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, but I make no move to get up. "Are you okay?"
Evander nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm fine. Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, suddenly very aware of how close our lips are. The tension between us is palpable, electric. I see Evander's gaze flick down to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
And then, before I can think better of it, before I can remind myself of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.
For a heartbeat, Evander freezes. But then, with a low groan, he's kissing me back. His hand comes up to cup my face, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss. It's passionate, urgent, filled with all the pent-up longing we've been trying to ignore.
I lose myself in the sensation of his lips on mine, the taste of him, the feel of his body against mine.
For a moment, nothing else exists—not the beach, not the kite flying forgotten above us, not the crowd of people around us.
It's just Evander and me, finally giving in to what we've both wanted for so long.
But then, as suddenly as it began, it's over. Evander pulls away, his eyes wide with a mixture of desire and panic. "Mireille," he says, his voice rough. "We can't... this isn't..."
Reality comes crashing back. I scramble off him, my face burning with embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry," I stammer, not meeting his eyes. "I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again, I promise."
Evander stands, brushing sand from his clothes. His face is flushed, his hair disheveled, and I have to force myself not to think about how attractive he looks like this.
"It's... it's fine," he says, but his tone suggests it's anything but. "We should probably..."
"Yeah," I agree quickly, desperate for an escape. "We should get back to the kite."
But as we turn to look for our wayward kite, we realize it's long gone, probably carried off by the wind during our... distraction.
"Oh no," I groan. "Lil's going to kill us. That was a rental kite."
Evander runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of stress. "I'll pay for it. It's the least I can do, considering..."
He trails off, leaving the sentence hanging between us. Considering what? Considering he's my boss and we just crossed a major line? Considering he told me explicitly that nothing could happen between us?
An awkward silence falls as we make our way back to the registration table. Lilian takes one look at us—sand-covered, flushed, and kite-less—and raises an eyebrow.
"Do I want to know what happened to your kite?" she asks, a knowing smirk on her face.
"We lost it," I mumble, not meeting her eyes. "The wind... it was too strong."
Lilian looks like she doesn't believe a word, but thankfully doesn't push it. "Well, these things happen. Don't worry about it."
Evander insists on paying for the lost kite, despite Lilian's protests. As he handles the transaction, I find myself wondering how we're going to move past this. How can we go back to being just boss and employee after what just happened?
"Well," Evander says as we walk away from the registration table. "I suppose that's the end of our kite flying adventure."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The memory of his lips on mine is still too fresh, too vivid.
"Mireille," he begins, his voice low. "About what happened..."
"It's okay," I interrupt quickly. "You don't have to say anything. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again."
Evander looks at me, his blue eyes intense. "Mireille, I-"