4. Holly
4
HOLLY
DAYS LATER
T he fluorescent lights in the office buzzed faintly, the kind that successfully sucked the very energy out of you one second at a time. It matched the low hum of voices and the constant clacking of keyboards echoing throughout the office.
I shifted in my chair for the dozenth time within the past hour, the piece of furniture outdated and uncomfortable as hell. I tried to focus on my work, but my mind kept wandering to Stefan.
It had been a couple of days since my non-date with him, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it—or him.
Our first weird-turned-casual-and-comfortable exchange at the bar.
The little restaurant, where I grew even more comfortable with him and realized he was a genuinely good human I actually wanted to spend time with.
And then there was the ride home and the way we kept catching each other looking at one another. It warmed me and felt… significant, like something I shouldn’t brush off.
Hell, if he’d tried to kiss me goodnight, I knew I would have invited him inside so he could fuck me until I couldn’t walk straight the next day.
And because of all that, it unfortunately made sitting here and wondering what the hell I was going to do with this newfound obsession even harder. But as if fate wanted to let me know not to get too comfortable, I saw Marcus, the coworker who’d stood my ass up at the company holiday party.
I caught sight of him by the water cooler, casually chatting with someone like he hadn’t been an asshole. Hell, he had asked me to go.
My stomach twisted with annoyance at the very sight of him. After I’d sent Marcus a text—albeit an awkward one asking what happened—and only getting the response, Sorry, I had something come up , I'd washed my hands of even being cordial with the man.
I went back to focusing on work and trying not to think about Stefan, when I felt someone hovering over my cubicle. I didn’t need to look up to know who stood there, and my annoyance escalated.
“Hey, Holly,” Marcus said in a casual tone, like he wasn’t a douchebag who ghosted me a few days ago. “So… about the other night?—”
I glanced at him, already holding my hand up, palm facing him, and shook my head, trying to mask the irritation raging under my skin. “You had shit come up. I get it. Nothing more needs to be said.”
If he’d had an emergency, that would’ve been fine. I would have understood. But I’d heard through the office rumor mill that he'd gotten a booty call, and that's why he hadn’t shown up.
So, he stood me up to get a piece of ass and didn’t even warn me I would be on my own, nor sent me an apology until after I texted him first. I held his blank stare, refusing to be the one to break it.
He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... sorry about that. Like I said in the text….” He shrugged.
I laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, the one you sent me the day after the party,” I said sarcastically. “Standing me up is totally my favorite way to spend an evening. Thanks for the experience.”
His face reddened, and he actually had the nerve to look annoyed at me. “Look, I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”
“Not a thing,” I said sweetly, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Before he could respond, I turned back to my computer and ignored the way he hesitated for a second before walking away. As soon as he was out of sight, I grabbed my phone, my fingers itching to type out a message to one of my girlfriends to rant about the encounter with Marcus.
But I hesitated and instead ended up pulling up Stefan’s number, and I hit the Call button. My heart raced as I waited, listening to the faint ringing of the call going through before his voice came over the line—low, smooth, and deep.
“Holly,” he said, my name sounding like a secret on his lips.
I was shocked that he knew it was me, even though I had given him my number. I’d texted him that night, so he must’ve saved me in his Contacts.
“Hey,” I said, suddenly feeling a little nervous but determined. I glanced around, like I might be caught doing something oh-so bad. It was almost… exciting. Which was silly, since I was essentially just talking to someone on the phone. “Listen, I figured I could be the one to invite you out.” I felt my face heat, and I was glad he couldn’t see me. Truth was, I’d never actually asked a man out before. “If you’re free, maybe we could go out. Like, on a real date this time.”
Oh my God. I actually said that last part out loud.
There was a pause, and for a second, embarrassment filled me. Would he turn me down? That would be an extra cherry on top of the shit sundae of a week I’d been having.
“An actual date, huh?”
I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a small smile start to tug at my lips. “If you have time,” I tacked on.
He laughed. “I’d be crazy not to make time for you, Holly. When?”
I got little butterflies in my belly after he said that. It wasn’t often anyone made me feel like I was even worthy of their time, much less like they’d move things around if they had to in order just to see me. “How about tomorrow night?” I knew my attempts to sound casual were coming off more weird than anything else.
He chuckled again, smooth like an expensive whiskey. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He didn't phrase it like a question.
“It’s a date,” I responded softly, and I closed my eyes in mortification, because I’d just repeated what he said.
When I hung up, I leaned back in my chair, my annoyance with my asshole coworker completely forgotten.
This time, I wasn’t going to end the date with us parting ways without even a goodnight kiss. I was going to invite Stefan into my bed, not caring if it was a bad idea.
A terrible idea.
When it was only our first date.