Chapter 8 Molly
Molly
There’s something weird about Elijah.
I knew he was eccentric, a bizarre guy with unsociable tendencies, but I thought I could ascribe some of that to being English.
I’ve consumed a generous amount of British media in the last week (GBBO, Bridget Jones’s Diary, The Holiday–yes, it counts–and three Pride and Prejudice adaptations) and I’ve determined that his cultural differences cannot explain the strangeness that is Elijah Thorne.
‘He’s got the weirdest fucking way of speaking.
Yesterday I watched him google the word swag,’ I gripe to Devi.
I’m especially fired up after having to fix how royally he messed up the TV in one of the third-floor conference rooms. As someone with a master’s degree from an arts school, I’ve been around a lot of dramatic people, but he might take the cake.
With Elijah it’s never Thanks, I owe you one, it’s always, I’m eternally in your debt and no amount of gratitude will be enough to repay your generosity and wisdom.
Like, okay dude. You can cool it.
‘Maybe he’s older than he looks?’ Devi offers. ‘A full head of hair and a good skincare routine can go a long way; he could be somewhere north of forty?’
‘No way,’ Kenneth pipes in, uninvited, as he loves to do. ‘Eli isn’t a day over thirty-five. Have you noticed he’s fucking jacked? How much do you think he benches?’
‘I couldn’t care less about that if you held me at gunpoint, Kenneth,’ I tell him.
Elijah chooses that moment to stalk out of his office and Devi calls for him to come over. He dutifully obliges.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask without moving my mouth.
‘It’s fine, he’s nice,’ she whispers. Then, to Elijah. ‘Hey, Elijah. Quick question, how old are you?’
I press my fingertips into the middle of my forehead, trying not to groan.
‘Thirty-four,’ he says simply, not fazed by Devi’s invasive and random inquiry.
Okay so, again, he’s just weird as hell.
‘See? Told you,’ Kenneth says. ‘I got your back, bro. Molly was trying to say you were sixty.’
I throw a balled-up sticky note at Kenneth’s face. He acts like it hurt. ‘He misheard. I said seventy.’
Elijah’s lips tip up into an amused smile, the one dimple making itself known. I dutifully ignore the cursed thing.
‘I don’t think you look a day over twenty-seven,’ Devi says. ‘Molly’s entering her thirties soon–any advice for her?’
‘Get out more,’ Kenneth answers before Elijah can.
I throw another sticky note ball at him then raise an eyebrow at Elijah, daring him to oblige Devi’s ridiculous request and offer some advice on my illustrious thirties.
I guess he’ll say something about investing in my retirement young, or if he was in cahoots with my mother, he’d beg me to freeze my eggs.
Instead, he looks off for a moment, ostensibly giving the question some thought, before settling his eyes on mine.
Even though it makes my heart rate pick up, I don’t look away. Won’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Fail often. Laugh more,’ he says, like a throw pillow. ‘And I think it’s easy to believe you have forever to do what you love, but you only have the one life. So, if you aren’t chasing what your heart desires most, you ought to get started.’
I blink at the earnest message, the one that latches onto so many of the fears and insecurities he certainly can’t know about. My throat feels dry, but I give a jerky nod.
What does your heart desire most? I want to ask. This? A career at Drummond with slim growth potential and decent benefits? Is this what sets your soul on fire?
‘That was poetic,’ Devi says. ‘Have you considered writing?’
‘Or life coaching?’ Kenneth adds.
I inhale and rise from my desk. It’s too early to take my lunch, but I need some air, so I grab my phone before excusing myself from the group surrounding my cubicle.
As the elevator doors slide shut, I let my shoulders deflate and rub the back of my neck. Before they can close completely, though, a hand reaches through the crack, and the doors slide back open. I blink up at Elijah, whose concerned eyes are directly on mine.
He steps into the elevator next to me, both of our backs to the wall, and we’re silent as the doors shut. I scan my badge and click the button for the top floor. There’s a roof patio with some lunch tables and some plants.
‘What floor?’ I ask.
‘Oh, um…’ Elijah runs a palm over his hair, the reason it always looks artfully messy. ‘Same as you.’
‘Why are you following me?’ I ask as the metal box slides up the building.
‘Was worried I overstepped. I wanted to apologise.’ ‘No need.’ I shrug. ‘Was fine advice.’
The elevator stops, letting in a group of five, and Elijah steps closer to make room for them.
I pretend that him standing so near doesn’t make me tense and aware of every place on my body where we might touch.
He pisses me off. Looking at him inspires images that embarrass me–like in the kitchen last Friday when he was being insanely annoying but standing close enough that it would’ve taken nothing to close the distance between us and press my lips against his, which look soft and plump.
All of him looks smooth, like I might find the world’s nicest skin if he held my hand in his.
Okay, see, what the fuck is wrong with me?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second to clear the unbidden horny ass thoughts for the tall man who is quite literally my corporate enemy.
He’s done nothing but make my job harder for the last three weeks; I can’t count the number of things he’s messed up that I’ve had to fix behind him.
And yet, everyone is obsessed with him. It’s like he’s got the whole of Drummond under some sort of spell that possesses them to be friendly to IT employees who mess their laptops up worse.
I can barely get people to say thank you when I fix their stupid problems, but Elijah waltzes in, breaks their shit, calls me to help him, and they act like he’s the paragon of technical support and genius.
Sure, he’s hot, but good looks and a friendly desk-side manner doesn’t absolve incompetence. What am I missing?
The group of five steps off on one of the big boardroom floors, and as soon as they do, Elijah returns to his spot a polite distance away from me, which makes me feel at least like I can breathe easier.
It’s a silent ride to the top floor, and when we get there, Elijah follows me down the hall to one of the roof’s access doors. He hesitates, peering out the window, but ultimately pushes through the door at my side.
It’s overcast today, another gloomy Wednesday, with grey clouds thick and heavy overhead.
I wish our department wasn’t in the basement.
I love when it rains so hard that the windows shake with it.
It’s my favourite kind of day, though always better enjoyed at home in sweatpants instead of these slacks which have gotten a little too tight on my thighs lately.
‘I’ve never been up here,’ Elijah remarks as we come to stand under an awning near the edge where we can look out at the city with its varying heights and architecture. I imagine the thousands of people living their own little lives inside each of the buildings, and I wish every one of them well.
I wonder if Elijah feels as small in this city as I do, if he also moved here looking for home only to find loneliness, abandoned dreams, and the best bagels he’s ever tasted.
‘Should’ve warned you that you’d need your hat,’ I say of the black cap he’s worn every day.
Elijah gives a tense chuckle–he’s embarrassed, I think.
‘I burn easily,’ Elijah says by way of explanation. He lifts his arm like the three inches of silky pale forearm I can see proves his point. To be fair, it does help; his skin looks exceptionally sensitive. ‘Your birthday is soon?’
‘Yeah.’ I sigh. I used to love my birthday and all the celebrating that came with it.
Now, though, it feels like a reminder of how far I am from where I thought I’d be when I moved here.
I was so naive, and so very hopeful; I had these epic dreams of being a full-time writer, one who wins international awards and keynotes conferences.
I miss that version of myself, the bright-eyed girl who wanted to do what she loved.
If you aren’t chasing what your heart desires most, you ought to get started.
I clear my throat and cross my arms. ‘It’s the first week of November. If Devi starts trying to plan a surprise party, tell me immediately.’
I say this last part all intense and commanding, like he did last week when asking me about the VPN. His eyes light up at the idea, a grin taking over his face as he looks down at me. ‘I haven’t been to a surprise party in years.’
‘I’ll pour coffee on your laptop if you let mine be the first.’
Elijah holds a hand over his heart. ‘You have my word.
Though all bets are off if she mentions karaoke.’
I laugh, surprising us both. Elijah looks pleased.
‘How will you celebrate?’
I shrug. ‘Go see a musical. Get three orders of crab ran-goons after. The usual.’
‘The usual,’ he agrees. ‘Is your family here to celebrate with you?’
‘No, it’s just me. My parents are in Utah, but they’ve come out here a handful of times.’
‘Far from home,’ he remarks. Home. I grew up in sunny, semi-rural Utah and felt homesickness when I first came to New York, but I’m not sure I think of it as home.
My only brother and his wife bought a house near my parents a few years ago and he says that the town feels like his forever place, much to my mother’s delight.
I don’t know that I feel that way about New York, even after eight years.
‘Not as far as you are.’
‘I suppose so.’
We let the city sounds filter up to us in the comfortable quiet.
A drop of rain hits the toe of my boot and then another.
I hold my palm out, up to the sky as cool drops fall on my skin.
I smile, breathing in the smell of the rain for a moment.
When I look at Elijah, he’s already watching me with that curious, intense look he gets sometimes. I turn away quickly.
‘Molly,’ he starts. I wish I didn’t like how good my name sounds with his accent, his deep yet soft voice. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. ‘I want to thank you for all the help. Drummond doesn’t deserve you. And neither do I.’
‘True,’ I say, but I am almost–and I mean almost–reluctantly touched by his gratitude. He’s always so effusively thankful when I help him. ‘But whatever. You’re welcome.’
Him being charming and smiley on a dreary rooftop is not helping remind me that he’s got the digital literacy of a newborn. He’s not supposed to be funny and thoughtful and gracious. He’s supposed to be smelly and evil.
‘How long have you worked here?’ he asks.
‘Three years. Not that long.’
Elijah puffs an exhale. ‘Ten per cent of your life.’
‘Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like a lot.’ I shift, a little uncomfortable at the thought. When I started here, I hoped it was a temporary gig. A year max. Now, approaching year four, I feel so far away from my goals, I don’t even know what they are any more.
‘Do you enjoy it?’ he asks, his voice gentle.
I shrug. ‘Does anyone?’
Elijah blinks and of course he has perfect, long, dark eyelashes. Hailey sits for eyelash extensions every three weeks to get hers to look like that.
‘But you’re so good at it,’ he says. I’m as surprised by his words as I am by the heat that rises to my face.
‘I mean, I don’t mind the job, and yeah I can hold my own, but I think people tend to work the best job they can tolerate so they can afford to do things they enjoy.’
He looks stricken now, like this truth of capitalism put simply for him is astounding. Is that why he’s here? Because he thinks he’ll really enjoy it? Even though he’s so bad at it?
‘I think I’m just cynical,’ I add quietly.
The wriggling feeling in the back of my mind that something is wrong with me returns–the thought that normal people are happy with well-enough, and that I’ll probably never be comfortable and content, even if I had everything I thought I wanted. I think it’s me that’s the problem.
‘I’m going to go back in,’ I say, nodding towards the door. The rain is picking up now and that’s excuse enough, plus it’s better to go now before Elijah’s button-up takes a turn for the translucent.
He follows close behind me, and obviously doesn’t feel as done with the conversation as I do. ‘Are you? Cynical? You’re very pleasant.’
I scoff, sure he must be teasing me, but when I look over my shoulder, he’s as earnest as he always seems. Is that his secret? Is Elijah just… genuine?
‘Sometimes. Drummond doesn’t care about me, not really.
I do good work, but if they decided my position wasn’t necessary, I’d get laid off and I’d have to find a job at another company where I would be a cog in their machine of increasing shareholder value,’ I explain as we get back into the elevator.
When I say it out loud, I really do sound cynical.
‘But the commute isn’t bad, the pay is enough to live on, there’s a gym I can use, a free snack and soda room, health benefits, an okay 401(k) match, and I like some of the people I work with.
And, yes, I am good at it. So, I guess I enjoy it well enough. ’
‘And that’s enough?’ he asks, his body turned to face mine, elevator etiquette be damned.
‘If I want to live in the city, then yes. It has to be.’
Elijah looks at me in the same way he looks at an IT request he doesn’t understand, a single crease between his eyebrows.
The elevator dings on our floor before he can carry on his inquisition, and Kenneth and Devi stand on the other side, Kenneth pushing a cart with a computer on it.
They look surprised to see us, and Devi’s eyes are wide, probably at the sight of Elijah turned towards me as he is.
I anticipate that she’s going to be very uncool about this.
‘Oh, perfect. Elijah, I’ll show you around the extra permission set-up for legal if you want to come with me,’ Kenneth says in a rare display of productivity.
I don’t give Elijah a chance to say no, instead brushing past Kenneth and heading for the office. Devi follows, speed walking to catch up with me.
‘What was going on there?’ she whispers, not quietly.
‘He was torturing me.’
‘Didn’t look like it,’ she mutters.
When someone waves me over for a question, I’m thankful to have the distraction, for once.
Texts between Hailey and Molly, 15 October 2026
Hailey: Hi Moll
Hailey: wyd
Hailey: Molllllyyyyyy plz respondddd
Molly: Working
Hailey: Can you Facetime? I need help with my audition outfit.
Molly: please refer to my last text
Hailey: You are so boring, booooo.
Hailey: Are you free tonight?
Molly: For what? I thought you had a date?
Hailey: I do. Hoping you’ll want to come out of your cave and make it a double
Molly: no
Hailey: PLEASEEEE MOLLY! He’s hot! And a director.
Molly: oh well if that’s the case, then hell no
Hailey: I am so afflicted.
Molly: Loveyoubyeeeee