4. Lucienne
Saturday, October 7th
Wheek! Wheek! Wheek!
My guinea babies are tussling around in their cage but I tug my quilt tight under my chin, savoring those moments before I have to brave leaving the warmth of my bed. Despite a restless night of sleep, my body is buzzing. My sheets are cool against my bare feet and I hum to myself, nuzzling my pillow.
Everything seems still this early—well, aside from Gideon and Greta scampering around. Wheek! Wheek! Clearly, they’re excited for an early breakfast. “You two have me conditioned,” I groan.
Reluctantly, I clamber out of bed, feeling a swift chill zip up my spine. I sleepily trudge down the hallway to the kitchen, flipping my coffee maker on. It grumbles to life as I grab berries from the fridge.
I sprinkle a mix of strawberries and blueberries into the guinea pig cage. Wheek! Wheek! “Mmm. Berries this morning, my little roly-poly piggy babies.” Gideon purrs as I scratch behind his ears.
Yes, guinea pigs purr and it is as cute as you may imagine.
“Wish I could put you two in my pockets and take you with me everywhere I go, though I don’t think you’d like it very much. Oh, maybe they make guinea pig harnesses. Both of you, remind me to Google that later.”
I take their squeaks as confirmation.
The beep from my coffee maker echoes from the kitchen as I slip into the bathroom and run a bath. My clawfoot tub is easily my favorite part of where I live. The faucet is shimmering brass, and the rim seamlessly rolls into a double slipper. The showerhead is something I installed myself when I moved in, an improvement my landlord was grateful I absorbed the expense of.
As steam begins to fill the tiny space, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Unmanageable. My curls are frizzy and full after a night’s sleep, making my head look disproportionately large. I look like one of those caricatures you can get at the stall in the mall.
I drop in one of my favorite vanilla bath bombs with a plop. It sizzles in the hot water as I lower myself in. The heat envelops me. I let my eyes fall shut.
Tonight, Colette and I are hanging out in our pajamas and watching scary movies. We can never quite nail the same weekend every year, but at least one weekend every October, we put together a list of our favorite scary movies and binge them.
My list almost never changes. Surprise, surprise! She’s always a good sport about it, mainly because we alternate between a pick of mine and a pick of hers. Colette’s list is different every single year, so there’s tons of variety. Everything from crappy slashers to psychological thrillers. I look forward to it all year.
Since I’m hosting, I’m responsible for providing snacks as well. When I went to the fridge earlier, I tried to ignore the fact it was nearly empty, aside from all the fresh veggies and fruits I have set aside for Gideon and Greta. My piggies eat better than I do, and they deserve it.
I’ll probably pick up some apple cider, caramel popcorn, maybe a six-pack of some kind of pumpkin-flavored beer. Colette’s only special request is Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups since she saves them for “special occasions,” she says. She will devour them in any form and sometimes it’s actually concerning. As for me, I do not need a special occasion or excuse to inhale a bag of Swedish Fish.
After making my mental list, I try to focus on my breathing and feel myself on the cusp of drifting in and out of consciousness. This is the reset I needed after this week.
Thursday felt like a day where I needed to run away from everything. I ran away from the debacle in the elevator, and, after Jude’s presentation, I ran out of the conference room as fast as I could. Collectively, I tried to run from the mix of weird feelings that the day’s events brought about.
Of coursehe is going to be the project manager on my team. Of course. After being outwardly rude to him for something he wasn’t entirely responsible for, the last thing I wanted to do was have to interact with him again. When I saw my name underneath his up on the monitor, I felt my stomach drop.
Then, as he scanned the room, we met each other’s gaze and his expression changed instantly. It looked like the idea, the realization, physically pained him. That seems to be the effect I have on people sometimes.
Maybe if I had gotten out of my own head and apologized, this wouldn’t be so awkward.
The worst part is that I find him wonderfully attractive. It’s as if he was chiseled by a Greek sculptor. The way his jaw became perfectly square as he swallowed, his lips parting to speak. That single dimple.
I’ve never seen someone in real life whose muscles actually ripple under the fabric of their clothing. I wanted to nip at the stubble on his chin and watch him crumble beneath me.
Ugh, I need to work off some of this pent-up sexual tension. Otherwise, I won’t be able to focus on anything else. And scary movie night calls for my undivided attention.
I bite the inside of my cheek and trace my fingers between my breasts. My nipples peak, the warmth of the water amplifying the rush of heat that ripples from my core.
With my free hand, I rub and pull at my stomach, my inner thighs, and then catch a nipple between my forefinger and thumb. My back arches in response as I let a slow moan fill the silence.
Green eyes. That single dimple.
I spread my legs, welcoming my own touch. My body is screaming for release, and I’m taken aback by the overwhelming sense of urgency that’s consuming me. I find my clit with my forefinger, my breath catching as I move in circular motions. Another wave of heat makes my cheeks flush as I work myself slowly, intentionally—
Buzz! Wheek! Wheek! Buzz!
On the vanity, my phone is vibrating wildly. Gideon and Greta do not appreciate the disruption to their mostly silent morning as they chirp excitedly in their cage outside the door.
“Shit—”
Whoever is calling me this early on a Saturday is going to rue the day they were born. Or I’ll just give them the silent treatment for a few days after I make sure there isn’t an emergency or something. I am not above that level of pettiness if it’s warranted.
Nearly falling flat on my face as I clamber out of the tub, I wrap myself in a towel and snatch up my phone. Colette’s name lights up the screen along with a photo of her with a tampon up her nose. Don’t ask. Since we have plans tonight, I can’t properly give her the silent treatment until tomorrow.
“I have a strict no phone call policy on Saturdays. I do not accept phone calls until after ten in the morning, with an exception for emergencies,” I answer.
“And yet you picked up anyway. Why do you sound out of breath?” she teases from the other end.
I prop the phone between my shoulder and ear, trying to dry myself off. “I was—never mind. You just caught me off guard, having the audacity to call instead of text this early,” I laugh.
Colette sighs. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’m calling this early? Early meaning five past ten, by the way. So I’m technically not violating any kind of silly rule of yours.”
My movements stop and I narrow my eyes. She knows my curiosity has been piqued even though I could wallop her.
“Okay. First, is it an emergency?”
“No, it’s not an emergency.”
I shrug into my robe and head to the kitchen. “If it’s not an emergency, it must be groundbreaking, earth-shattering, life-altering—”
She laughs. “Ugh, I love the drama.”
The smell of roasted caramel floods my senses as I pour myself a mug of coffee. “It can’t even wait until tonight?” I sigh, collapsing onto the sofa. A knock on the door catches my attention.
“Um—sorry, Colette, hold on. Someone’s at my door. Stay on with me; I don’t know who that is...”
“Did the knock sound like this?” she asks, as someone knocks on my door again. I end the call, cross the living room, and look through the peephole.
When I whip the door open, Colette is nearly doubled over in laughter, a grocery bag hanging from her arm.
“Just when I think I have you figured out. I thought an axe murderer was stopping by for their morning coffee,” I laugh. She pulls me into a tight hug.
“On second thought, it is October; I guess that isn’t far-fetched. I wanted to surprise you! I know this week was all-around shitty, so I decided to bring you breakfast. Then I’ll go for lunch with Zade and be back for movie night!” Colette is beaming as she dangles the grocery bag in front of me.
“My love tank is about to overflow,” I gush.
She brushes past me, sets the grocery bag down on the counter, and begins to unpack its contents. Her hair is in a loose braid draped over her shoulder and she’s wearing a maroon sweater that I’m considering stealing from her.
“For everyone else, it’s practically lunchtime, but nevertheless I brought an apple cinnamon muffin and an autumn breakfast burrito. I told them to hold off on the bell peppers, just the way you like,” she says proudly.
My stomach growls. “I do not deserve you. Thanks, Colette. I’ll accept this as penance for interrupting my peaceful morning.”
I dig in ravenously. Warm sweet potato, maple syrup, smoked turkey sausage. This is the taste of fall in breakfast form, no doubt.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” laughs Colette, gathering the grocery bag and discarding it. “I’ll be back at, let’s say around six? I already made my watchlist on Netflix.” Sharing a Netflix account does have its perks.
“Shounds gud,” I say around a mouthful.
Colette waves goodbye and disappears out the front door. I take another bite of my burrito and crack the bay windows in my living room.
There’s a cool breeze today and the sun is hanging high in the sky. Not a cloud in the sight. The street below me is bustling, which is to be expected on a day like today. Fall has finally settled in place of the relentless summer heat. I prop myself against the windowsill, grasping my mug with both hands as I feel the palpable excitement build.
This is my season. I love fall.
Finishing off my burrito with one last bite, I throw on an oversized yellow sweater and jeans.
“Mama will be back soon, babies. Behave!” I shout.
I’m met with an excited wheek! wheek! from down the hall as I close the front door behind me.
The air nips at my nose as I round the corner, heading toward the co-op a few blocks down. I feel light on my feet, yet satisfyingly full thanks to Colette’s heartfelt breakfast delivery.
Honestly, her friendship is something I’ve never had before and when she does such kind things for me, I don’t know how to thank her in a way that feels significant enough. I shoot her a quick text, one I hope she will see and smile at as she preps for her lunch date.
Lucienne:You made my whole morning 3 Love you.
Colette:Love you back 3
It still doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not good at accepting kindness from others; I’m not sure what it is. I like to take care of myself, so it’s hard to allow others to take care of me. Colette has found little loopholes and sneakily been able to take care of me in small ways for years. Eventually, I accepted it. Still, every now and then, I feel guilty, as if I’ve failed her in some way.
I nearly jog the last block. Lining the large glass windows of the co-op are baskets filled with gourds, pumpkins, and ears of corn. There are mums of all different colors stacked near the entrance.
I pick up a basket and make my way down the candy aisle first because, you know, priorities. After acquiring the necessary sweets, I head to the fridges that line the wall, but as I round the corner, I slam into a solid surface—no, a solid body.
In slow motion, my basket clatters to the floor and my feet are swept out from underneath me. A hardened arm twists around my waist just before I lose my balance completely. The candy flies across the linoleum floor as a hand fists my sweater, pulling me upright.
My heart fluttering, I whip my head around to look at who was responsible for not only my almost tumble, but for saving me from an inevitable concussion.
It’s Jude Carr. No fucking way. No, no, no, no.
His arm is still tucked tight around my waist as his eyes bulge. He pulls away from me as if he’d experienced a painful shock and retrieves my basket and candy. His haphazard bun and bootcut jeans are all I can register in the midst of our collision.
“I—fuck, I’m so sorry. This is—I didn’t even see you coming around from the other aisle,” he stutters.
I must be an accident magnet and, coincidentally, a Jude magnet.
I’ve been coming to the co-op for years and not once have I run into him. Why him? What is he doing here? My mind snaps back to my morning bath, touching myself to fleeting memories of his soft eyes and—
“No, I’m—Th-thank you,” I manage to whisper.
Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can’t even express how badly I wish I could disappear on the spot. Just poof. No more Lucienne; she’s gone. Disintegrated in the middle of the co-op due to public humiliation.
Jude’s brows are angled downward, his fists clenched at his side. He doesn’t move; he just stares at me. Even though I avert my gaze, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater, I can feel his eyes on me.
It’s almost as if his gaze is warming my skin beneath the woven fabric.
He blinks rapidly and jerkily holds the basket in my direction, clearing his throat. “Here. Again, sorry. I hope I got everything,” he says.
I take the basket from him and before I have a chance to open my mouth, his back is to me as he walks at a quickened pace in the opposite direction.
Did he just leave?
This guy has got to think I’m some kind of plague at this point. And again, I missed an opportunity to apologize—only this time, he ran away. He couldn’t get away fast enough. Why did he look at me with so much disgust? His face was contorted into such a displeasing grimace, yet his words were soft. Clenching his fists as if he were trying to keep his hands away from an open flame.
As far as I’m concerned, if I’m forced to be in proximity of Jude Carr, someone is going to get hurt.
“Have you read Coraline, by the way? Creepy stuff. I don’t know how anyone can call that a children’s book.”
Colette is queuing up our next movie as I toss a Swedish Fish into my mouth. “I won’t tolerate Neil Gaiman slander in this house. It’s just dark fantasy. The story isn’t that scary; the illustrations in the book are super scary though.” I shrug.
She starts The Conjuring, tugging our shared blanket back over her bare feet. There is a spread of candy, unfinished apple cider, pumpkin beer, caramel popcorn, and an array of meats and cheeses on the coffee table.
We made small talk before we started our movie marathon, mostly about Colette’s lunch date with Zade. But I strategically dodged any questions about our on-site workday—that is, until now.
“Wait a minute,” she says, pausing on the title screen. “You still haven’t told me why you were so...irritable the other day at the office.” She turns to me, bringing her beer bottle to her lips. Colette lifts a single brow into a high arch as I squirm. “Lucy, come on! Spill! You had me worried. And not for nothing, but you seem super grouchy tonight too.”
Ugh, I was hoping I was hiding it well, but apparently not.
I drop my head onto her shoulder, letting out a deep sigh. “The whole going into the office thing was just harder than I thought.” Not a complete lie, but absolutely not the full truth. “And I was—I was so embarrassed about the whole coffee thing. I didn’t mean to be rude to Jude—don’t laugh at the rhyme—but I think I let my anxiety get the best of me. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”
I’m twisting my hands in my lap and I can hear Colette mulling things over.
She pops a piece of caramel corn in her mouth, holding it in her cheek as she speaks. “I’m sure he was just as embarrassed as you were. I mean, he seemed super flustered. I would be, if I were him. That’s why I tried to intervene a little. But is that why you’re kind of off tonight too? Is it bugging you?”
I don’t know how to explain this unsettling, inappropriate attraction I have toward Jude. And I don’t think I want to. I barely know the man and there’s no reason to gossip about it, even with Colette. Then I remember I need to work with him for the next month.
I not only report to Colette, but I also report to him now, at least for a short period of time. Kind of. There needs to be a level of trust and transparency if I want all of this to continue smoothly.
“Well, I ran into Jude at the co-op, and I mean, I physically ran into him. Smashed right into him heading down another aisle. And he just apologized and walked away, but it was like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Instead of coffee, it was my basket of groceries that went flying. It was literally so humiliating, again.”
Colette starts to laugh and nudges me with her shoulder. “Oh my God! Lucy, you’re not serious! I’m sorry. Truly, I’d be embarrassed too, but I can’t help but laugh. What’re the odds that something like that would happen?”
She grabs my hand and squeezes it once, reassuring me that despite how entertained she may be by my woes, she does genuinely empathize with me.
“Well, actually, what exactly did happen after you two collided? Give me a play-by-play,” she demands.
“He just—he picked up my basket and stuff. Like, things went everywhere. And he—I almost fell because the man is rock solid, but he caught me, then handed my basket to me and walked off,” I rush to say.
Please let that just go over her head. Colette shoots up from her seat, scattering candy on the floor.
Damn it.
“Whoa! Way to waste the good stuff!” I jump.
She’s smiling wickedly. I knew it; she’s enjoying this way too much. I can feel my cheeks turning pink.
“He caught you?! Oh, oh that’s cute, Lucy. Cradled you like a baby caught you? Or like trust fall caught you? I don’t know him very well at all obviously, but he’s smoking hot—”
I throw some caramel corn at her face, frowning. “Nope. Stop. He was preventing my head from cracking like a melon, that’s all. Then, I told you, he ran off. Glad you think he’s hot and everything, but need I remind you I’m your subordinate and you’re talking to me about another colleague—”
She rolls her eyes and plops back down beside me. “You can’t pull the workplace dynamic bullshit; shush. Well, since he ran off, what’re you going to do?” she asks.
“How does nothing sound?”
“Sounds like you plan on avoiding him and allowing the awkwardness to fester until you die,” she laughs.
“Maybe I am,” I say with a snort.
We laugh together, cozying back up under our blanket. She puts the movie back on and shovels a fistful of cheese in her mouth.
“You know I like pushing your buttons. But seriously: You do need to work with the guy now. If you want these little incidences to determine your dynamic, then that’s fine. However, Lucienne Sophia Amato, I know you feel guilty for starting things off on the wrong foot, so I say fix it. It’ll probably make working with him a lot easier. Just my opinion. Take it or leave it.”
“Stop making so much sense and watch your movie, boss,” I sigh.