Eleven Evelyn
At work, I now found myself constantly hoping to cross paths with Vanessa. Having a likely unreciprocated crush this obsessive couldn’t be healthy. Every time heels sounded on the floor or someone knocked on my door, my heart rate sped up.
Since my presentation for the whole marketing department was scheduled for tomorrow, I needed to run it by Vanessa today.
She’d casually suggested we do so over brunch at the coffee shop she’d brought me the wonderful pastries from.
Obviously, having had no interest in declining, I was looking forward to it.
A part of me wondered whether she always got coffee with subordinates when collaborating. The place was likely quiet, with a productive atmosphere. But still… was it necessary for such a brief interaction?
Heading into the shop, I scanned the tables, spotting the gorgeous redhead almost immediately. She always stood out—easy to find with her perfect posture and confident air. I was caught off guard, though, to see a familiar bleach-blonde woman standing next to her.
Mia.
Vanessa sat calmly, looking as composed as ever, while Mia seemed to be the one pushing the conversation. I lingered in the doorway, debating whether or not to approach them.
I didn’t like her talking to Vanessa.
After only a second, Vanessa noticed me, curling her finger in a come-hither motion.
Mia followed her gaze, turning to look at me.
She shot me a sneer, which I couldn’t resist returning.
She was shamelessly angry that Vanessa now had an excuse to end the conversation—or, as I hoped, because she thought there was something between us.
As I walked toward the table, Vanessa’s gaze locked onto me. It infuriated Mia, and it felt so good.
Mia brushed past me with attitude, making her disdain clear as I slipped into the seat across from Vanessa, now receiving all of her attention.
I raised an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes at my curiosity, resting her chin in her palm and shaking her head to herself, her voluminous hair swaying with the motion.
“What did she want?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t crossing a line.
“You’ve stalked her—you know she has a girlfriend. She just hoped I’d missed her. She clearly misses me. And my money.” Vanessa’s tone was dry. “But I don’t want to bother you with this. We have work to discuss.”
She wasn’t fazed by Mia’s behavior, but I was still curious.
“But doesn’t she have a good editing job or something?”
Vanessa raised a brow, holding back a smile. “Impressive. Yes, she has money—she just got too used to me spoiling her.” She stood. “Now come, sweetheart. Let’s go order.”
She removed her decorative swing coat, carefully laying it over the back of her chair before heading to the counter. I followed instinctively, staying close behind her.
As she placed her order, I admired the intricate sort of French braid woven into her hair. I waited, planning to order separately, knowing she wouldn’t let me treat. It looked difficult to create.
“Evelyn? What do you want?” she asked, snapping me out of my trance.
With her items still on the screen, I ordered quickly, pulling out my card before Vanessa could, determined to pay for both of us. She’d already spent too much on me already.
“Evelyn, stop. I’m paying.” She pushed my hand away and handed over her shiny black card.
“No, it’s my turn,” I protested, moving my hand above hers.
My efforts were short lived.
She grabbed my wrist, bringing my persistent hand back to its resting position mid-thigh.
“You don’t get a turn,” she said simply, graciously thanking the worker as if nothing had happened. She paid no attention to my weak attempts to pull away, holding my wrist with calm ease, her expression revealing nothing.
Once the transaction was done, she loosened the fingers keeping my wrist in place, heading back to the table without meeting my gaze.
“You already bought me pastries. I seriously owe you,” I insisted, unable to let it go.
“Evelyn, enough,” she said quietly, opening up her laptop, still not looking at me.
The lack of a reaction or attention she was giving me was making me crazy.
“So,” she continued smoothly, “I’m looking over the slides and your footnotes.” She scrolled with practiced efficiency. “You’ve covered everything sufficiently. You will elaborate on slide four when speaking, I trust?”
I walked her through my plan in more detail, taking every piece of advice she offered—not because I wasn’t confident in my own work, but because her input was genuinely useful. She typed quickly, effortlessly keeping pace with my rapid explanations.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you in action tomorrow,” she said, adjusting her emerald earrings.
“Oh, you are?” I asked, unable to fully mask the hesitation in my voice.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Because you just learned what I’m going to say,” I said, a little too defensively as she took a sip of her coffee. “You have nothing to gain,” I added more casually when she narrowed her eyes at me.
“Are you nervous?”
“No. Just surprised. That’s all,” I lied.
“I’m confident in your public speaking abilities. You have nothing to worry about,” she said, almost gently—though we both knew that wasn’t the issue.
She was playing with me again.
She always did this—pretending to accept my obvious excuses, then circling the truth until I slipped. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t give in without a fight, and she knew it.
“I know that. I’m well prepared,” I replied coolly, falling right into it.
“Oh?” She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “So, it’s only my presence that’s intimidating you.”
I stayed quiet a second too long.
That was enough.
“Do I make you nervous, Evelyn?” she pressed.
“Yes. You’re the CMO,” I said, tilting my head in return, pretending it was obvious—unimportant. If she believed that, she wouldn’t see the real reason. If she was there, I’d be a distracted mess.
“I’m sure,” she murmured under her breath, closing her laptop.
I could hear the smirk in her voice without even seeing her face.
Caught off guard, I didn’t dare ask her to elaborate. My breath hitched, her horribly accurate implication enough to leave me speechless.
“If that’s all, we both have work to get back to.” Her tone was more formal again. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I feel prepared for tomorrow. Thank you.” I packed up my laptop, noticing my phone vibrating silently.
“Oh—Michael’s calling me. Do you mind if I take it?” I asked, pulling it out.
“Not at all. I need to go anyway. You know how to reach me if you need anything else.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“Wait,” I said suddenly, giving into an impulsive thought.
Michael could wait.
“Yes?” She turned, looking down at me, question marks written all over her face at my sudden outburst.
“Never mind. It’s nothing.” I shook my head, reality hitting me. I didn’t have a good enough excuse to ask for her number like this.
She stepped closer.
I swallowed.
She wasn’t letting it go.
“I’m not playing this game right now,” she said, crossing her arms. “What is it?”
“I just realized it was unnecessary,” I muttered, fiddling with my hair and avoiding her gaze.
“Evelyn,” she said, softer now, “why do you insist on doing this to yourself? Just talk to me.”
God, I was making this so much worse.
“It’s nothing, really. When Michael called, I just thought it’s a more practical way of communicating—but that would be unprofessional—” I looked up, stopping my rambling when she laid her open hand out in front of me.
“Give me your phone.”
I handed it over without thinking.
“Unlocked, sweetheart.”
Mentally slapping myself for being such an idiot, I unlocked it quickly, too embarrassed to speak, and placed it back in her waiting palm, carefully avoiding brushing against her skin.
She typed in her number, biting her luscious bottom lip slightly in concentration. After a moment, she handed it back, her fingers grazing my palm anyway.
“Satisfied?”
I nodded.
“Good.” She gave me a small, knowing smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Evelyn.”
“Good luck,” Michael wished, giving me an encouraging shoulder pat.
I walked up to the front of the spacious room, my eyes subconsciously scanning the space for Vanessa.
She wasn’t here.
With her having so many work responsibilities, it was easy to imagine something far more important than a presentation popping up and keeping her busy. But now was not the time to focus on her—this was important.
I took a deep breath before speaking into the microphone, tapping my laptop and putting my slideshow in motion.
I quickly entered a flow state. This was much more my thing, as opposed to sitting at a desk all day.
The sets of eyes staring at me did nothing to falter my speech, and time seemed to fly by impossibly fast. I watched people nod in understanding, taking notes, eager to learn, and raising their hands, wanting to engage.
After answering each and every question, I stepped away from the podium, wishing I didn’t have to.
This was what I wanted to do. I wanted to teach.
Everyone seemed rather impressed. People I’d only met once or twice came up to me, wanting to hear more about my research. If only work were always like this.
After half an hour, everyone was making their way back to their offices, and I was left alone, fighting the urge to head to Vanessa’s to tell her how well it had gone.
If she’d wanted to come, then she would want to know how it went. Making up my mind, I headed in the direction of her office. The adrenaline rush from my success clouded my usual nerves.
Without much thought, I knocked. Waiting a few seconds, there was no answer. I knocked again. There was complete silence. She was not there.
With an unreasonable amount of disappointment, I walked back toward my office, my mood remaining significantly lower until I remembered I had her number.
Evelyn: Hi, I noticed you weren't at the presentation. I wanted to let you know it went well. Thanks for all the help yesterday.
I worked for another hour, constantly checking my phone like a middle schooler before she responded.
Vanessa: Good afternoon, I had to handle some personal business outside of work. As you already noticed, made obvious by your text, I am not in my office. I am glad to hear you did well, not that I am at all surprised. Have a good rest of your day and see you tomorrow, Evelyn.
Oh, if she was going to text like that we may as well downgrade back to email. She wasn't fifty but was texting me like a grandparent would, if not even more formal and cold.
Evelyn: I hope all is well. Enjoy your day, Vanessa.
Vanessa: Everything is fine, Evelyn. I'm sure you have work to keep you busy instead of texting me baselessly.
Well it looked like someone was having a bad day.
Evelyn: ?
Vanessa: ??
Evelyn: ???
Vanessa: Stop, sweetheart. You are not amusing me in the slightest. Get back to work. Now, Evelyn.
Make me.
Evelyn: Will you be here tomorrow?
Vanessa: Do we have something scheduled that has uncharacteristically slipped my mind?
She needed to cut the act. Whatever reticent mood swing this was, wasn't working with me.
Evelyn: No, I'm sure you're far too perfect to ever forget anything.
Vanessa: How flattering. I'm honored you think so highly of me. Now do not make me ask you to focus again.
Or what?
But I wasn't texting back because if I did, I wouldn't be able to hold back. She was practically asking for me to talk back.
So, I worked as my curiosity for whatever last minute personal business she had, left me thinking. There was no reason for her to be annoying and set up boundaries, especially when I never had. It was unfair. We had already crossed too many to the point of no return.