Chapter 9 Molly #2
I mentally shake myself, remembering my purpose here. It’s not to chat about passions and smutty novels, it is to convey a message so I can get back to my own slacking off.
‘Did you see the email about happy hour tonight? Jen sent an invite.’
He nods. ‘I did.’ I think he’s going to go on, but that’s the end of it. He saw the invitation. Period.
‘So… are you going?’
Elijah rubs his jaw, visibly considering an answer to my very simple yes or no question. He can never just have a simple conversation, can he? Once again, I must ask, is it a British thing?
‘I’ve never been to happy hour,’ he says. ‘What does one do there?’
‘It’s not a place, it’s an event. Like meeting up for drinks, but with your coworkers instead of your friends.’
‘Your coworkers aren’t your friends?’ he asks, and I would think he’s kidding if he didn’t look as earnestly interested in my answer as he always does.
‘Some of them,’ I say. ‘Others I wouldn’t necessarily choose to get drinks with on a normal Thursday evening. But the department gets the first drink for everyone, and it’s good for company culture or whatever. Morale boosting.’
‘Fascinating,’ he mutters. Not how I would describe department happy hour, where Kenneth follows Devi around like a mosquito and Ryan tells annoying stories much too loudly, but to each their own. ‘And must I drink something?’
‘No, some people just do soda or water. It’s more of the social aspect. Seeing each other in a non-work setting.’
His eyes light up at this notion and that fucking dimple shows on his cheek as he grins. ‘In non-work attire? No suits?’
It occurs to me that I’ve never imagined him in anything other than a suit.
On his first day he had that sunhat of course, but ever since, the same Met baseball cap hangs on a hook with his shoulder bag.
I can’t imagine what kind of clothes he wears when he’s not wearing a crisp, fitted button-up and slacks.
Is he the type to wear flip-flops with jeans?
Or constant athleisure? He could be really into leather, for all I know, or wear exclusively cargo shorts with trinkets and tiny knives in his pockets.
‘It’s right after work, so we usually go as we are, slacks and all,’ I say. ‘But it’s chill. Just drinks and chatting. This bar has good nachos, so sometimes I get those. Did your last jobs really never do anything like this?’
Elijah shakes his head. ‘Not quite.’
The more I learn about his past work experience, the surer I am that this man has never set foot in a corporate environment.
‘Well, Jen and Kenneth will bully me if you don’t come, so if you’re busy, you better tell them I didn’t scare you off.’ I point a finger at him in as intimidating a way as I can muster, but he just looks amused and delighted.
‘You bet,’ he says.
Despite myself, I smile as I walk away.
Happy hour is as it always is; Ryan annoys the shit out of me when he’s sober, and he’s even worse tipsy, so Devi and I sit at least two tables away from him at any given time.
Thing is, Devi is fun as hell, so everyone wants to sit with us.
Our table fills up quickly with Jen, Kenneth, and a couple of the developers.
We do a round of shots after Jen and Devi’s prompting, and then I order a glass of red wine.
Kenneth, as much as I tend to loathe him, is always down to share a plate of nachos with me, so we do.
Only, today is different because today Elijah is here too.
He gets pulled to Ryan’s table, and almost an hour passes before I see him again.
He’s extricated himself from Ryan’s boring clutches and sits at the bar, looking out at the now surprisingly full room.
I suppose it shouldn’t be that shocking–they do half-price wings on Thursday nights and trivia, which is going to start in the next hour.
He’s alone, a wistful sort of smile on his face as he people watches.
Anyone else would look creepy, I think, but in my slightly inebriated state I can admit that he is the most handsome man in all of New York, probably the East Coast as a whole, and he makes everything look effortless.
Well, so long as he’s not touching a computer.
‘Go talk to him,’ Devi prompts.
‘What? Why?’ I ask. ‘He’s plenty social, he can make a friend.’
‘Don’t be evil.’
‘I’m not!’ I protest, but when I look again at Elijah, he’s already looking at me. He smiles and inclines his head barely in acknowledgement before getting back to looking at everyone else.
I think he’s… lonely? Could that be? For what other reason would he be looking at the groups of people chattering like a dog yearning for a home?
I sigh and drain the rest of my drink, which warms my chest.
‘Careful, tiger,’ Devi says, patting my back.
She is tiny, but that girl can drink when she wants to.
She was in an a cappella group in college, and I swear they went harder than any sorority.
I hand her my empty glass and exhale before crossing the bar and taking up the empty stool to the left of Elijah.
‘Molly,’ he says by greeting.
‘Elijah.’
His eyes roam over my face, a soft smile growing on his lips.
‘What?’ I ask, fidgeting with the sleeve of my cropped cable knit.