Chapter 7 #2
Gaming attracts diversity and Steve isn’t the only gender fluid employee in Cerium. So I turn my head and lower my voice as I murmur, “It’s the man-bun. I know it makes me shallow, but I can’t get past it. It’s just…” I search for the right word, “tragic.”
“Ridiculous more like.” Chloe observes.
“Interesting.” But Nur is prevented from expanding on her comment as Steve arrives at our table. They point to an empty chair and I nod my acquiescence.
“Sorry to hear about Ginny,” they say as they open their bento box. “Please pass on my best to her. I’m Team Ginny all the way.”
I nod though I’ve no intention of doing any such thing. Ginny probably suspects everyone is talking about her. She doesn’t need it confirmed. Steve keeps the conversation light and bright with an amusing anecdote of being on a video call with someone whose dog peed on their laptop.
“He had his camera on, so we all got an eyeful of the dog’s bollocks. It’s ruined the phrase for me. From now on, I won’t be able to hear it without thinking of a Jack Russell’s penis.”
I chuckle politely along with the others before excusing myself because it’s time for my Friday afternoon catch-up with Anders.
Exactly a week ago, he proposed and I wonder what I’m walking into this time.
Our whole dynamic has changed. And although Anders seems quite comfortable with it, I’m finding my stray sexual fantasies upsetting and confusing.
I bet he’s not struggling with anything of the sort.
He’s not fixating on sliding my skirt over my hips and ramming me against the plate-glass window as he enters me.
His nipples aren’t suddenly aching at the thought of straddling him on the black leather sofa.
For years we’ve worked together and never once have I daydreamed of being bent over his desk while he pistoned into me from behind like some dubious quality porn movie.
But in the last week, I’ve imagined all these scenarios.
And the only thing in my life that’s changed has been Anders’s proposal.
In my head, he’s switched from off-limits to totally fuckable and I don’t know how to move him back again.
How do you go back to seeing someone as an asexual being?
It does happen. Once upon a time I was crazy about Mike.
I couldn’t wait for him to get home before I dragged him off for sex.
Now when he turns up, there is nothing except a mild repulsion and immense relief that Effie won’t be disappointed.
Not one tiny thread of lust has survived.
When in need, ask the internet. I spend five minutes searching for advice.
Cut off all contact. Well, that’s a non-starter given he’s my boss.
Stop sharing specialness. Hmph. Guess what the P stands for in PA?
Think about the consequences. Believe me, Ginny is front and centre of my mind, a living embodiment of the consequences.
What else? Shut down the fantasies. Working on that without much success.
Focus on traits that irritate. That’s more like it.
That I can do. Anders can be infuriating.
Flirt elsewhere. I think about Steve. But would it be fair to encourage them if there is no attraction on my side?
Or maybe it’s implying flirting leads to fancying.
I don’t have time to explore further. I clear my history and cache and shut down all tabs. Picking up my laptop and notebook, I open the door to the lion’s den.
Anders is away from his desk, sitting on the sofa, one arm strung along the back.
He’s focussed on the laptop balanced on his leg, crossed ankle to knee.
The sunshine streams through the window, glinting on his bent head.
He looks still, composed, every inch the visionary leader.
I sigh. It would be so much easier to fall out of lust with him if I didn’t already admire him.
He looks up, eyes glinting as he spots me. And that crooked grin, so unapologetically mischievous, flashes across his face. Focus on the irritating.
“This is very good.” He nods toward the laptop, and I know he’s reading the departmental performance report I collated for him. A flush of warmth spreads through me as my brain reacts to his words with a dopamine release. Damn humans and our in-built need for validation and connection.
Anders is making it very hard to focus on the irritating. Especially when he continues, “The graph in figure nine is excellent. You can see the issues in one glance. I know how tricky that is to achieve, so well done.”
I blush some more. The raw data was messy and complex.
I spent ages working out the best way to show the story buried within it.
I was proud of the report when I finished, and it feels wonderful to have Anders acknowledge it.
It’s guaranteed he will be the only person who recognises my contribution.
“This bit,” he points to his screen, and I move to the sofa to sit beside him. I’ve sat here a hundred times without a problem but now I’m preternaturally aware of his arm an inch away from mine, the warmth of his body, the slight hint of bergamot as he lifts his arm.
“This is clever.” His head turns toward mine and I drop my eyes to avoid his. It’s a learned reaction but I find myself staring at his lips instead. Full, firm, fascinating lips. Kissable lips.
Stop that, Cora. This will never do. I twist away and slide myself further along the cushion under the pretext of opening my own laptop.
“Thank you.” I acknowledge his praise briefly and move on quickly.
Much as I want to bask in his appreciation, it’s too dangerous.
“Now, the first thing on our agenda is the projected costs of the new government legislation. I’ve broken it down into minimum, enhanced, and best practice, and provided estimates on the impact on recruitment and retention for each option. ”
Mercifully, Anders follows my lead. I gallop through each item, barely giving him time to draw breath. We cover everything in record time. Once I finish interrogating him as to what he needs me to focus on next week, I close my laptop lid and gather my things.
He leans back. “So, are you doing anything exciting this weekend?”
I hesitate, terrified he’s going to ask for a date. Then reason reasserts itself. He’s asked me this at the end of most of our meetings. It’s his way of building rapport, appearing to be interested in the minutiae of my life.
“Effie’s got a party tomorrow. I’ve got laundry. What about you?”
That lopsided grin re-appears, this time it’s rueful. “Working. Between now and the end of the year, I’m not expecting to get many weekends off.”
My heart softens. “Now, if anyone in this company said that to you, what would you say?”
“I’d tell them rest is a necessary part of health and maintaining focus. That they can’t expect to perform at their best if they don’t take breaks.”
“Right back at you.”
His smile disappears and his eyes grow dull. “But work is preferable to being lonely.”
And my heart breaks for him. Of course I’m affected. It’s easy to forget he’s still raw from his break-up. Just because he proposed to me doesn't mean he’s not still mourning his relationship. I would guess he proposed because he was hurting.
I reach out a hand and rest it on his shoulder. “It will get better.”
His head turns and for once, I let myself look into his mesmeric eyes, blue as the water in a glacial lake and just as deep.
As Rob is forever reminding me, just because someone doesn’t show emotion, that doesn’t mean they don’t feel it.
Anders may move through this world seeming impervious but in this moment the loss of Imogen and the longing for a family is there in his eyes.
If I didn’t have Effie, I might well have said, “Yes.”