Chapter Twenty-One #2
Shannon and Dan need no further prompting; I let them loose in the cafeteria to plunder its spoils.
—
I don’t know if I decide it or Connor does, but we silently collude to give Dan and Shannon the impression that we must get back to work, and they agree to head back to their hotel, where I promise to meet them at the end of the workday.
We wave goodbye at the elevators. My smile drops the second the doors slide shut.
“You have to come to dinner,” I say as the two of us make our way back to DatStrat.
Connor gives a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Connor.”
“Annie.”
“You’re the one who wants me to be the bigger person,” I reason as we get back to our desks. “How am I supposed to do that without you?”
John and Martin are working from home today, so it’s only Ben there to greet us. He pulls his headphones off.
“Brad was looking for you,” he says to Connor. “I told him you were gone.”
“Thank god for that,” Connor mutters, and then turning back to me, “I’m busy.”
“I’m begging you.”
He shrugs.
“Please,” I wheedle. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll even go talk to Brad.”
Ben perks up at this briefly, tilting his head toward Connor like maybe not a bad idea?
Connor is unmoved. “No. It would be a little weird to bring your boss to dinner, don’t you think?”
He logs back into his computer.
I open my mouth to reply, then shut it again. Is he…mad?
Across from us, Ben is not even pretending not to eavesdrop. I look back at him. All he does is raise his eyebrows like well?
I sheepishly avoid his gaze and take the conversation to messenger.
ANNIE: Are you…………. mad that I called you my boss
CONNOR: No.
He is. He so is. How the tables have turned!
ANNIE: I’m sensing a bit of a tone there.
ANNIE: How would you like me to introduce you, just for future reference?
He does not dignify this with a response, but I can see the messenger open on his screen. He’s listening.
ANNIE: I’m sorry Connor
ANNIE: You’re so much more than my boss. You’re my….
ANNIE: Line manager.
I can’t believe it. Calling him my boss hurt his feelings. I find this absolutely delicious.
ANNIE: My…mentor
CONNOR: Can you stop
ANNIE: My fearless leader
CONNOR: Trying to focus here
I sneak a glance at him. I sense his defenses weakening. I can’t say for certain, but it feels like he’s trying not to smile.
ANNIE: My…. overseer?
CONNOR: Friend would have been fine, for the record
ANNIE: Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer…my inspiration?
CONNOR: Get back to work
ANNIE: Really getting some mixed messages here
ANNIE: Should I be following your orders or not?
CONNOR: OK that’s enough
CONNOR: Settle down
ANNIE: Yes BOSS;)
In the end, Connor never agrees to come with me, only asks me the name of the hotel they’re staying at, and then ten minutes after that, gives me an address and instructs me to tell Shannon and Dan to meet us there after work.
I feel a huge wave of relief, both at the fact Connor is coming, and that he has once again swooped in to make the plans.
Maybe this night won’t be a disaster after all.
—
In general, Fridays can only ever go one of two ways.
It’s either extremely quiet because most people have already checked out for the weekend, or it’s manically busy while people overcompensate for all they didn’t accomplish earlier in the week.
Today, it’s the second one. I’m shocked when I look up from my spreadsheet to see Ben shucking on his backpack.
It feels like I blinked and lost four hours.
“Have a good one,” Ben says to me, pushing in his chair.
“You too. Up to anything good this evening?”
“Nah,” he says with a crooked smile. “My friend bailed out on me last minute so I’m just going to head home.”
“Oh, that sucks—” I stop when I realize he’s referring to Connor. “Sorry.”
Ben laughs, patting me on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s all good. You two crazy kids have fun.”
“Where is Connor, anyway? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Hiding from Brad in the sound booths, I think.”
“Ah.”
He salutes me and then is gone, his bright head of hair bobbing down the corridor.
My phone buzzes, Shannon’s name flashing across the screen. I texted her earlier with the details of where to meet for dinner. She’s only just replied.
SHANNON: We’re just in Times Square. Dan says the Hard Rock Cafe here is supposed to be really good?
Ah yes, Dan who has been in New York for one day. Thank god he’s here to be our tour guide. Where would we be without his amazing suggestions?
ANNIE: Trust me when I tell you it won’t be worth it. This place is a lot less touristy and also close to your hotel
I watch as she types, then stops, then starts again.
SHANNON: Dan wants to have a drink here first so we’ll need to meet a bit later. 7:30 instead?
Everything about this message is annoying.
How have I become the third wheel on my own girls’ weekend?
Last time I checked, she was here to visit me.
There’s absolutely no point arguing with her, so I don’t.
It would be easier, geographically, for both her and me to meet at Times Square, but I decide to stay petty and let them experience the joys of trying to get from midtown to Brooklyn at this hour.
Seems only fair to Dan—he is, after all, very passionate about Ubers.
I’d hate to deprive him of the surcharge.
I text her back with a thumbs-up and then quickly check my sister’s Instagram. Just as I predicted: she’s already posted a picture of her standing in Times Square. I stand and go looking for Connor. I want to tell him I was right.
—
Of all the styles of meeting rooms we have in this building, these ones are extra insane—a corridor filled with compact, windowless rooms designed for recording audio and video.
Each has a little screen beside the door to say who’s booked it, plus a lightbulb that flashes red or green, depending on whether or not they’re in use.
It doesn’t take me long to find Connor’s name on the door, and I listen before knocking to make sure he is in fact hiding, as Ben suggested, and not on a video call that I’m about to rudely interrupt. When I’m confident, I rap a knuckle lightly on the door and then poke my head around it.
He looks up at me, and I hold my hand up to my ear in the universal sign for are you on the phone?
When he smiles and shakes his head, I let myself in.
The room is extremely simple, just a table with two chairs, pushed up against a wall with a TV mounted above it.
There’s padding on the walls for soundproofing.
“Just came to tell you I’m not such a bad tour guide after all. Look at this,” I say, handing my phone to him. He squints down at the screen then laughs.
“Looks like you know your sister better than you think,” he says, smiling at me.
How I wish that were true.
“Not wearing any of their Taskio merch, I notice,” he says, passing the phone back to me.
“I bet they binned it instantly.”
“Oh, no doubt,” he agrees. “Probably before they’d even left the building.”
He smiles and I smile, the glow of our shared joke passing between us.
I look around us. “So you’re hiding from Brad in here?”
“Hiding from you,” he says, then adds: “You’re very distracting.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You seem to get plenty of work done.”
“It’s a constant battle.”
It doesn’t feel like he’s kidding. I clear my throat.
“They’re having a drink at the Hard Rock.”
He nods. “Are we meeting them there?”
I shake my head. “I told them to stick with the plan. They’ll meet us in Brooklyn.”
“Evil,” he says. I only shrug.
“So you’ve got some extra time on your hands,” I tell him. “To…work.”
He closes his laptop. The look he’s giving me is heated.
“I’m done.”
“Oh?”
He stands. Steps toward me.
“So, um—how should we pass the time?”
Another step closer. Then another. It’s like there’s a circuit looping between us, from him to me and back to him again. I can feel the charge.
At the edge of my vision I see his arm move. A second later the sound of the lock clicking into place.
“I don’t know,” he says, voice low. “Any ideas?”
So many. Judging by the way he’s staring at me, I’d say his are much the same as mine.
I’m cross-eyed from watching him at close range.
He’s near enough that I could count his freckles, but I’m too busy having an almost-out-of-body experience to try.
He hovers there a moment, his mouth a millimeter away.
When he grazes his nose against mine, I’m not sure, but I might actually whimper.
Then he kisses me, and I definitely do.
Kissing Connor is every bit as amazing as I remember.
He is methodical, mapping the contours of my mouth, then sliding along my jaw, down my neck.
I have never been kissed like this, ever.
It’s slow and firm and certain, like he’s pouring a world of feeling into every movement, and I’m overwhelmed. By all of it.
When he returns to my mouth and bites down gently on my bottom lip, I’m done for.
It goes from chaste to raunchy in a heartbeat.
I can feel his hard-on press against me.
I’m scrabbling for purchase; my hands on his face, in his hair, clinging to his shoulders.
I’m seconds away from climbing him when he peels me off the wall.
I’m vaguely aware that we’re moving, but it’s not until my ass meets the edge of the desk that I realize we’ve changed direction.
I lift myself onto it—he offers a helping hand, gripping the back of my thighs to give me the boost I need, those extra few inches lining us up in a way that feels almost indecent.
He releases my mouth while his hands find my waist and slide me farther up the table.
I have no patience for this interruption.
I pull him back to me with force, my legs locking around him. He laughs into my mouth.
“No teasing,” I say breathlessly.
“No teasing,” he agrees, his lips sliding back against mine.