Chapter 10
TEN
It’s another Monday morning at the office.
Through the glass door beside the water cooler, the customer service department is bustling with activity.
The filing cabinet rolls open and shut as people remove and return documents.
Joe appears to be clearing boxes out of a cupboard.
Winnie’s on the phone, pacing the hallway, waving her hands around enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, on our side of the door in good old human resources, Andy and I have polished off a pot of coffee between us but haven’t even opened our emails yet.
Heck, I haven’t even turned on my computer, if I’m being honest. The smile on Andy’s face is like an elastic band that can’t be stretched any farther.
He asked how my weekend was and didn’t expect me to deliver this much entertainment to his life.
“Hold on, let me just get this straight,” Andy says, practically clapping his hands in delight. “You’re telling me that your mom’s boyfriend’s son is doing the same thing you are? That is fricking golden.”
I swivel my chair from side to side and shoot him a casual smile. “I guess.”
“What are the odds? Wait, what does he look like?”
I shrug. “Muscles. Beard. Mysterious looking. Dark hair.”
“So, he’s a sex god, just like his dad? Oh, this is rich.
” Andy wheels further into my cubicle, rolling up the sleeves of his white linen shirt.
There’s a trace of citrus cologne as he moves closer.
His shirt’s tucked into rust-colored pants, the only pop of color in a sea of office neutrals.
He grabs both of my hands, as if holding onto me will ensure I won’t leave him hanging on the rest of my adventure.
“You need to tell me more. This is the most exciting story I’ve heard in weeks. You get it—you work here too.”
I squeeze his hands, then pull away, leaning back slightly.
I’m not getting so wrapped up in the storytelling experience that I’ll say more than I’m ready to divulge.
“There’s not too much to tell. We tried a bunch of things to mess with them and make them jealous but none of them worked out. The weekend ended. And we came home.”
“What? Girl, come on.” Andy makes a tsk noise, frowns, and shakes his head at me. “Are you really going to disappoint me with a crappy version of the story like that? I thought you and I were friends, Lexi.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll give you a few interesting details.” I point behind him out the window at the bus stop poster. “See that picture over there?”
Andy twists his chair around to look. “The forest one you always stare at . . . ? Yeah. What about it? Wait, are you going to buy a copy for your room so you can stare at it at home too?”
“Zach loves that photo too. He gets why I stare at it so much. Even spoke about how it inspires him too. Isn’t that cool?”
Andy closes his eyes, grips his chest, and convulses in a mock display of having a cardiac attack. “Cool?” he slaps his knee emphatically. “Cool? That picture inspires you both. It’s like your souls understand each other at a deeper level. That’s more than cool. When’s your wedding date?”
I blink at him incredulously and hold back a smile. “Excuse me, I’m taken. That’s a weird jump.”
Andy rests his hand, adorned with chunky rings and gold bracelets, on my forearm.
“Look at me, in my eyes,” he instructs firmly.
“We’ve worked together for seven years, and I know you.
You’re acting differently today and when we started talking about this Zach guy—Zach is a very hot name by the way—you started getting red and sweating a little and just overall acting weird.
Something’s up with you and I think you should admit it. ”
He’s right. And after what he just said, now my face is on fire too. I pull at the neckline of my dress to fan myself out. “You know as well as I do that this place is hot as hell. Of course I’m sweating. When am I not sweating?”
Andy’s staring into my eyes, unblinking. “Lexi,” he says sternly.
“I love Jayden,” I say in as steady a voice as possible. “And only Jayden. Forever.”
“Maybe you love him the way people love sweet potato fries, or puppies, but I don’t think you love him, love him. Sorry, sweetie.”
I shake my head firmly. “That’s not true.”
Andy raises an eyebrow and regards me silently for a few moments.
“Okay. If you say so. I’ll be merciful and stop asking about this Zach guy because you’re obviously getting very hot and flustered and I’m worried you might pass out or something.
But first, you have to tell me the whole resort story from the minute you checked in. ”
I gesture at the to-do list that’s pinned to my bulletin board. The very long to-do list without any checkmarks in the boxes. “What about work?”
Andy waves a hand dismissively. “It can wait. How often does something as exciting as this happen to one of us? It’s like a special occasion. We should order one of those lemon cakes with the cream cheese frosting from Marvin’s or something. Make it a real celebration.”
I spend the next hour telling Andy every detail except the ones that involve the chemistry between me and Zach, but Andy—even though he’s supposedly trying to be good—knows the right questions to ask to get the information he craves.
He swipes back his swoop of blonde bangs and stares at me with his mouth set in a serious line. “So, just so I can picture the view you had when you two were waiting to see their reaction to the note, where were you hiding exactly?”
“There was a wall around the corner from the door, and we hid behind it and peeked out. It was perfect.”
“So, when you were standing there, how were you standing? Can you demonstrate it to me, maybe?” Andy asks, his facial expression focused like he’s doing critical research instead of just trying to get the tea.
“I’m you,” he says, wiggling his hips as he walks to the cubicle wall and presses up against it.
“I’m peeking at Mami, see.” He throws a look over his shoulder, the kind you’d see in an Instagram post where the angle’s all about showing off the butt. “So, Zach, where are you?”
Unbelievable. “Come on,” I protest. “You promised to stop giving me a hard time.” I fan myself and give him an anguished look. “I might faint, remember?”
“I’m a visual person. This helps me understand the story. Where were you, Zach?” Andy repeats, this time in a squawky, high-pitched voice that definitely doesn’t sound like mine and is way too annoying to ignore for very long. He’s not going to quit. Might as well appease him.
I reluctantly get up and stand behind him, my body nearly resting against his, with my hand on the cubicle wall to steady myself as I arch my body to peek out as well.
I swear, if anyone from management comes down to check why our inboxes are overflowing, we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.
“That close?” Andy’s voice is muffled by the wall he has his face pressed up against.
“Yes,” I say, so close to him that I’m sure he feels my breath against his neck—can possibly even smell the aroma of terrible office coffee.
“Oh, Lexi. Honestly, if I wasn’t gay, this whole thing would really turn me on. Two people, spying together, at a beach resort, getting this close.”
“You’re too much,” I laugh and head back to my chair.
Andy sits down, closes his eyes dreamily, and spins his wheeled chair in a slow circle. “Sounds like quite a weekend.”
“Yep.” I fold my hands in my lap and let out a little sigh.
Commercial break is over—well, if commercial breaks were an hour long.
Time to get to work. Or maybe just one more minute.
Perhaps it’s time to get some advice after all.
Andy’s a smart guy. I value his opinion.
“So, what you were saying before, that whole atmosphere at the hotel . . . that would be enough to confuse a person, right? Make them kind of get wrapped up in the excitement of hiding and completing missions?”
“Maybe.” Andy leans back in his chair, both hands behind his head, eyes twinkling.
I hold up a hand like a stop sign. “Please don’t start with that again. I need your opinion without the teasing this time.”
Andy’s lips stretch into a slow smile. “It would be easy to get wrapped up in something like that and to feel things if you’re in a setting like that, doing things like that. Sure, it would.”
I nod. “Okay, thank you. I should . . . uh . . . probably get to work before someone busts us for doing nothing all morning.”
Andy starts wheeling himself back to his own cubicle. “That’s pretty cool that he’s also noticed that poster you’re obsessed with.”
“Sorry. Can’t chat about it anymore right now. I’m just starting a phone consultation,” I say, my back to him, but there’s a smile on my face. I power on my computer and as it’s initializing, I slide open the top drawer of my desk and take out my notebook and purple pen.
I open the first page of the book and press down on the spine until it lies flat.
I lift the pen, my hand poised over the paper, glancing over my shoulder for a minute at the bus stop poster.
Before I realize it, I’m writing, flowery cursive spilling onto the page, the words stringing together naturally, actually sounding good in sentences.
“When time is a flicker and a block, a dot and a dash, and everything is both unwritten and waiting.”
My computer’s on, ready to be used, but I don’t dare break this spell. Beautiful imagery is pouring onto the page, metaphors, similes, repetition, symbolism. What the hell is happening?
Roughly twenty minutes later, I’m staring down at a page full of pretty purple handwriting—a poem I crafted after suffering from writer’s block for the past decade.
I read it over to myself, then whisper it aloud, and it’s good, so much better than the one I recited this weekend.
I wonder what Zach would think of it, then instantly feel a pinch of guilt in my chest. No, I correct myself, I wonder what Jayden will think when I show it to him later.
He’ll be proud that I finally felt inspired.
Maybe it was something about performing a poem and having people clap that reminded me how much I liked to share my writing with people, or more frightening than that, maybe it was because after Zach heard it, he understood where I was coming from, and it made me want to feel more, to share more.
It’s scary to think that I may have found a muse in the most unlikely, off-limits person.