9. Julia #3
I wrap both hands back around the coffee cup and study him. “And what exactly are these intentions you've decided to clarify?”
“I'd like to take you to dinner.”
The simplicity of it catches me slightly off guard.
Michael continues before I can answer, his voice just as calm as before.
“Not tonight, obviously. You're exhausted, we have four binders that need to be rebuilt, and asking you out while simultaneously ruining your evening with work would demonstrate remarkably poor judgment for someone whose profession depends on possessing it.”
“You’re also a partner here.” I remind him.
“I am.”
“And I work here.” I remind him of that too.
“You do.” He agrees.
I raise an eyebrow.
He smiles faintly. “I’m not being deliberately obtuse.
I understand exactly why that makes you pause, and honestly, I'd be concerned if it didn't. But I'm also not your direct supervisor.
I have no control over your salary or performance reviews, and I would never put you in a position where saying no to me professionally would become more difficult because you'd said yes to me personally.”
That takes some of the response I had prepared and quietly removes it from my mouth. Because this is precisely the problem with Michael. He’s reasonable. If he were arrogant about it, or careless, or one of those men who mistook professional proximity for entitlement, saying no would be effortless.
Instead, he’s sitting across from me acknowledging the exact concern I have before I can properly explain it.
“That doesn't make it less complicated,” I tell him.
“No. It doesn’t.” He agrees.
“And if it went badly, we'd still have to work together.”
“We would.” He agrees again.
“You're not making a very persuasive case for yourself.”
His smile deepens. “ I'm not trying to persuade you out of your concerns, which I agree are legitimate. I'm simply asking whether, despite them, you'd be interested in having dinner with me.”
And there it is. Direct enough that there is nowhere for either of us to hide. The inconvenient truth is that under different circumstances, my answer would probably be yes.
Michael is attractive. I enjoy talking to him.
He's smart, funny when he isn't trying too hard to be, and I've noticed the way he looks at me for considerably longer than I've allowed him to know.
But I've also spent years building a career I genuinely like, in a place where I'm respected because I'm good at what I do.
Adding sex, dating or whatever might come after dinner to the organizational chart seems like an unnecessarily efficient way to complicate something that currently works.
“I am interested,” I admit, because pretending otherwise feels childish. “That's actually part of the problem.”
Something shifts in his face. Not quite a surprise, but close enough to make me wonder how convinced he was that the attraction went both ways.
“Well,” he says after a moment, “I'm not going to pretend I'm disappointed to hear that.”
“I thought you might survive.”
“Barely.”
I smile and shake my head.
“But I'm still saying no.”
Michael nods slowly. “Because we work together.”
“Because I like working here. I like you too, which means if I’m wrong about how this goes, I potentially lose something either way. Maybe both.”
He considers that for a moment, and when he answers, there’s no attempt to bargain with me.
“Then no it is.”
Just like that. No wounded pride. No argument about why my reasoning is wrong. No suggestion that I owe him a chance because he finally worked up the nerve to ask. Something in my shoulders relaxes.
Michael glances toward the four binders waiting on the side of my desk before looking back at me. “For the sake of preserving whatever remains of my dignity, may I at least buy you dinner on the firm's expense account while you fix opposing counsel's mess?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Whether cheesecake is included.”
He smiles. “I believe the firm can withstand the financial impact.”
“Then your dignity is safe.”
He stands, smoothing one hand over the front of his jacket before pushing the chair back where he found it.
At the edge of my desk, he pauses. “Julia?”
“Hmm?”
“I meant what I said. The answer being no doesn't change anything here.”
I look up at him. “I know.”
And strangely enough, I do.
His smile this time is quieter than the ones he usually gives me. “Good. I'll have food sent up before I leave.”
“Thank you.”
Michael walks away, and I watch him for a few seconds before returning my attention to the screen.
The annoying part is that I meant what I told him.
I am interested. Under different circumstances, I probably would have said yes without needing much convincing at all.
But some boundaries aren't there because you don't want what's on the other side of them.
Sometimes they're there precisely because you do.
I take another sip of the coffee he remembered exactly how I like and open the first revised exhibit. Work I understand. So I get back to it.