Chapter 10 Alex
ALEX
The restaurant is crowded and noisy, the chatter of voices and the clink of silverware creating a cacophony of sound. But even amid the chaos, I can't seem to take my eyes off Paige.
She's sitting across from me, her hair falling in soft waves around her face and her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. She's laughing at something Owen said, her head thrown back and her cheeks flushed with mirth.
And I can't help but think that she's never looked more beautiful.
It's been a week since that night in the server room, a week since I confessed my love for her and she pretended not to hear. A week of awkward glances and stilted conversations, of longing looks and aching hearts.
But tonight, it's like none of that ever happened. Tonight, we're just Paige and Alex, two coworkers out for a team dinner, sharing jokes and stories and easy banter.
Or at least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.
"So, Paige," Owen says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "How's the MindMeld algorithm coming along? Alex tells me you two have been burning the midnight oil."
Paige grins, her eyes flicking to mine for just a moment before looking back at Owen. "It's going well, I think. We've made some really great progress over the last few weeks. Of course, it helps that Alex has been staying late to help out."
I feel a flare of warmth in my chest at her words, a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she feels something for me too.
But then she continues, her tone turning teasing. "Although, I have to say, his coding skills leave a little to be desired. I swear, sometimes it's like working with a monkey who's been given a keyboard."
The table erupts in laughter, and I force a smile, trying to ignore the sting of her words. I know she's just joking, just falling back into our old patterns of bickering and teasing.
But after everything that's happened between us, after the way she's been shutting me out and pushing me away...it feels different now. It feels like a rejection, a reminder that she doesn't see me the way I see her.
"Well, we can't all be coding prodigies like you, Reynolds," I say, my tone sharper than I intended. "Some of us have other talents. Like, you know, actually talking to people and not just staring at a screen all day."
Paige's eyes narrow, her smile fading into a frown. "Are you saying I'm antisocial?"
I shrug, taking a sip of my beer. "If the shoe fits."
She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just because I don't feel the need to fill every silence with inane chatter doesn't mean I'm antisocial. It means I value quality over quantity when it comes to conversation."
I roll my eyes, feeling a flare of irritation in my gut. "Right. Because god forbid you actually open up to someone, actually let them in. That would be too much like commitment, wouldn't it?"
The table goes silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel Sam's eyes on me, wide and worried, but I don't look at him. I can't look at anyone right now, too afraid of what I might see in their faces.
Paige stares at me, her expression unreadable. And then she pushes back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor.
"Excuse me," she says, her voice tight. "I need to use the restroom."
She walks away, her steps quick and purposeful, and I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. I shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have let my frustration and my hurt get the best of me.
But I'm just so tired of pretending, of acting like everything is fine when it's so clearly not. I'm tired of wanting her and not being able to have her, of loving her and knowing she doesn't love me back.
I sit there for a moment, my heart racing and my palms sweaty. And then I'm pushing back from the table too, mumbling some excuse about needing to make a phone call.
I head for the bathroom, my steps unsteady and my mind reeling. I need to get away, need to clear my head and try to regain some semblance of control.
But before I can make it to the door, I feel a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"Alex." It's Sam, his voice low and concerned. "What's going on, man? Is everything okay?"
I turn to face him, my jaw clenched and my eyes burning with unshed tears. "No, Sam. Everything is not okay. I'm in love with her, and she doesn't love me back. And I don't know how to deal with that."
Sam's eyes widen, his mouth falling open in surprise. "Whoa, wait. You're in love with Paige? Like, for real?"
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. Sam lets out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Damn, man. I knew you two had chemistry, but I didn't realize it was that serious."
I laugh, a bitter, humorless sound. "Yeah, well. Apparently it's only serious for me. She made it very clear that she doesn't feel the same way."
Sam frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Did she actually say that? Or are you just assuming based on, you know, the fact that she's Paige and you're...you?"
I glare at him, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, his expression apologetic. "I just mean that you two are different, you know? She's all logic and reason, and you're all heart and instinct. Maybe she's just scared of getting hurt, of letting herself feel something real."
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Right. Because robots can feel fear."
Sam raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. "Did you just call Paige a robot?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "No. Yes. I don't know. It's just...she's so closed off, you know? So guarded and controlled all the time. Sometimes I wonder if she even has feelings at all."
I start pacing the small space, my agitation growing with every step. "I mean, honestly, what's the point? We're like oil and water. Complete opposites. It's never going to work."
I tick off the reasons on my fingers, my voice rising with each one. "Number one, she's a robot. Number two, I'm...not. Number three, she's allergic to feelings. Number four, I'm practically made of them. And number five...well, did I mention she's a robot?"
Sam just shakes his head, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Alex, listen to me. Paige is not a robot.
She's a person, with thoughts and feelings and fears just like the rest of us.
And if you really love her, if you really want to be with her.
..you need to try to understand where she's coming from.
You need to be patient, and kind, and show her that you're not going to hurt her. "
I stare at him, my heart clenching in my chest. He's right, of course. I know he is.
But it's just so hard, so painful, to keep putting myself out there and getting rejected over and over again.
"I don't know if I can do that, Sam," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."
He smiles, a sad, understanding smile. "You are, Alex. You're one of the strongest people I know. And if anyone can break through Paige's walls, it's you."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. And then I nod, squaring my shoulders and straightening my spine.
"Okay," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. I'll try."
Sam claps me on the shoulder, his eyes shining with pride. "Atta boy. Now go splash some water on your face and get back out there. You've got a girl to win over."
I manage a small smile, my heart swelling with gratitude for my best friend. And then I'm pushing open the door to the bathroom, ready to face whatever comes next.
But when I step into the hallway, I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Because there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest...is Paige.
"Hey," she says, her voice casual, almost bored. Like we hadn't just had a heated argument in front of all our coworkers. Like my heart isn't currently lying in shattered pieces at her feet.
"Hey," I reply, my own voice rough and unsteady. "Listen, Paige, about what I said back there..."
She waves a hand dismissively, pushing off the wall and taking a step towards me. "Forget it, Spencer. We both got a little carried away. Must be all that unresolved sexual tension, huh?"
I blink at her, my mouth falling open in surprise. Is she...is she seriously making a joke right now?
But before I can respond, she's grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the single-stall bathroom at the end of the hall.
"Come on," she says, her voice low and husky. "I think we both need to blow off some steam."
And then we're stumbling into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind us as she presses me up against it, her lips finding mine in a searing kiss.
For a moment, I'm frozen, my brain struggling to catch up with the sudden turn of events. But then her hands are sliding under my shirt, her nails raking down my abs, and all coherent thought flies out the window.
I groan into her mouth, my own hands coming up to tangle in her hair, to pull her closer until there's no space left between us. She grinds against me, her hips rolling in a way that makes my head spin and my blood turn to fire in my veins.
It's fast and frantic and desperate, all teeth and tongues and grasping hands. She tugs at my belt, her fingers making quick work of the buckle, and then she's shoving my pants down my hips and wrapping her hand around me.
I hiss at the contact, my hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. She strokes me once, twice, and then she's spinning around and bending over the sink, hiking up her skirt and looking at me over her shoulder with hooded eyes.
"Hurry," she breathes, her voice thick with need. "Before someone comes looking for us."
I don't need to be told twice. I step forward, my hands gripping her hips as I line myself up with her entrance. And then I'm pushing inside her, a low groan tearing from my throat as her tight heat envelops me.
She gasps, her head falling forward as I start to move, my hips snapping against hers in a frantic rhythm. It's raw and primal and almost violent in its intensity, both of us chasing our release with single-minded focus.
And when it comes, when we both shatter in a blaze of pleasure so intense it borders on pain, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out her name.
For a moment, we just stay like that, our chests heaving and our bodies still joined. But then she's pulling away, tugging her skirt back down and refusing to meet my eyes.
"We should get back," she says, her voice flat and distant. "Before anyone notices we're gone."
I nod, my heart sinking as I tuck myself back into my pants. Because I know what this means, know that she's already retreating back behind her walls.
And as we make our way back to the table, as we studiously avoid each other's gazes and make strained small talk with our colleagues, I can't help but feel a pang of bitter disappointment.
Because even though I just had her, even though I was just inside her, I've never felt further away from Paige Reynolds.
And I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to bridge the gap between us, to break through her defenses and find the real her underneath.
Or if I'm just fooling myself, chasing after a dream that will never come true.
Only time will tell, I suppose. But one thing's for sure—I'm not giving up on her. Not now, not ever.
Even if it means getting my heart broken in the process.