Chapter Twelve
twelve
Lanie
Aim lower.
It was an otherwise quiet day at her office, but Lanie’s mom’s admonition still rang in her ears even days later, thwarting her. Luckily, Lanie’s job as the administrative assistant for Empire University’s chair of the Psychology Department wasn’t a particularly challenging job.
Of her brain’s capacity, Lanie had once estimated she only used about 30 percent of it day-to-day, managing the chair’s budget and expenses, coordinating departmental and educational meetings. And being in a small department at a top-rated research university meant perhaps even less since their department was under the radar, under-enrolled and underfunded. All of which was right up Lanie’s alley. After imploding spectacularly in her own academic career, it was possibly even what appealed to her most. What comforted her. Here in the Psychology Department, despite her boss’s recent attempts to coax her back into academia, she felt appreciated but otherwise unbothered, allowed to blend into the background.
So, it was easy in the middle of the day to, say, pick up her cell for possibly the fifth or sixth time and attempt to make a personal call. Her mind had wandered repeatedly to Ridley’s card all week. But working up the courage to finally contact him and take him up on his offer still proved difficult.
LANIE:
Hi Dr. Aaronson—
Delete Delete
Lanie checked the business card for the millionth time this week, running her thumb over the embossed letters before trying again.
LANIE:
Hi Dr. A-r-o-n-s-e-n. This is Lanie we met—
Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete
LANIE:
Hey Ridley. Just texting you like we disc—
Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete Delete
LANIE:
Hey! It’s Lanie
Delete Delete
LANIE:
Hey!
Send.
Lanie’s stomach rolled like the three little dots that appeared on her screen after long minutes of waiting. After a whole sixty seconds of staring at them, undulating like unceasing waves of punctuation, Lanie placed the phone face down on her desk, going back to the expense report she’d been working on.
Finally, an additional minute later, her phone pinged. Lanie dared herself to try waiting to finish the rest of the department chair’s report. She wrote exactly two more lines before her nerves got the better of her.
RIDLEY:
???
LANIE:
It’s Lanie
RIDLEY:
...
Seriously? Lanie’s cheeks burned. She flipped the phone over again, slamming it on the surface of her desk so harshly she had to pick it back up immediately to inspect the screen for damage.
No, I have not been torturing myself for four days over a person who couldn’t care one way or the other. She felt so stupid.
The phone pinged again. She snatched it up.
RIDLEY:
Hey Lanie. It took you long enough
She smiled.
RIDLEY:
Seriously. I leave tomorrow
Oh shit. Had it really been that long? Well, for the first three days, recalling her mother’s words, she was adamant she wasn’t going to contact him. So, yes, that made sense. Her frown disappeared abruptly, replaced by the wish to bang her head against a desk. What had she waited all these days for?
LANIE:
Sorry. Next time?
She pressed send before realizing how presumptuous that was. Next time? God, girl, for real? What if he isn’t coming back for months?
RIDLEY:
That’s okay, we can still meet up. Tonight?
Lanie’s lunch threatened a return visit. She slapped a hand over her mouth to discourage it. She bit her lip. She was wearing a well-worn baby blue twinset and black slacks, her usual business casual wardrobe. Not great for going out after work.
RIDLEY:
Short notice. I know
LANIE:
No it’s my fault. You told me to reach out
RIDLEY:
So dinner?
Lanie blinked.
LANIE:
Didn’t you say coffee?
RIDLEY:
I don’t drink coffee
That’s right. She remembered him saying that.
RIDLEY:
Do you drink coffee for dinner?
LANIE:
I don’t
RIDLEY:
Am I being forward?
Yes.
LANIE:
No
RIDLEY:
Are you busy?
Lanie’s stomach lurched again. Was he really asking her out? She looked around her small office to make sure she was still alone before glancing back to her phone.
She tried to ignore the nerves and excitement bubbling up inside her. Her dating history told her she didn’t have a shot, but she couldn’t help picturing a cozy booth in a restaurant, soft lighting, Ridley’s knee bumping hers under the table...
RIDLEY:
Are you still there?
He’s impatient , she thought. Until she checked her computer screen—it was a full two minutes later.
LANIE:
RIDLEY:
Ok. So?
Lanie held her breath after typing the three little letters. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. But the next words popped up without the warning of dots before she could press Send.
RIDLEY:
Lanie, relax. It’s not a date.
She deflated. She knew that but still, it was a kick in the crotch to see it written there in sans serif font.
Why would it be, Lanie? The man isn’t interested like that. He’s getting his feet wet again. You’re his method of reentry.
She blew out a breath and hit Send.
LANIE:
Yes
RIDLEY:
Pick the place. Text me the address.
Lanie frowned. Well, okay, boss. She nearly saluted.