Thirteen Evelyn
The next day Vanessa followed through with her promise, to the point of poking fun at me; leaving a chocolate croissant on my desk alongside a neatly folded note.
A token of my attention dedicated to you.
I rolled my eyes, laughed, then ultimately devoured it. Vanessa seriously needed to be more careful if she didn't want me to fall in love with her.
I hadn’t gone to her office to thank her, knowing she’d be too busy to converse. Thinking the same when we made eye contact in the hallway, I only smiled at her in passing on the way to leave for my lunch break.
But she had other intentions.
The moment she caught my gaze, she made a show of strutting up to me with an outstretched arm, as if she hadn’t just seen me yesterday.
“Evelyn, hi,” she exclaimed, touching a hand to my shoulder.
I glanced around to see if other people were nearby. Vanessa’s uncharacteristic affection would definitely cause some talk.
“Okay, Vanessa, this is not what I meant,” I said, keeping my voice quiet and giving her my best attempt at a stern look.
“Oh, it’s not?” She tilted her head, examining my unimpressed expression with faux confusion.
“No, you don’t need to smother me,” I groaned, still taken aback.
Vanessa slowly slipped her hand down the length of my arm until it was no longer touching me.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” she scoffed.
“You can relax, I won’t be offended,” I assured her, flustered by all the attention.
“Promise me that, and I’ll lay off you.” She casually moved a stray lock out of my face as she waited for me to speak.
As her fingers tenderly brushed against my temple, I subconsciously tilted my head, leaning into her open palm. Warmth and comfort rushed through me.
She didn’t pull away immediately, instead rubbing her thumb against my cheek, preparing me for the withdrawal of her tantalizing touch.
“Well?” Vanessa asked, pulling away, her eyes scanning over my now-relaxed features.
“Vanessa, I promise.” The words fell from my lips effortlessly as I stared back at her obediently.
“Thank you for that, sweetheart,” she whispered before clearing her throat softly. “I actually wanted to ask you something. Have you heard of Parpadel? It's a newly opened restaurant that's been attracting quite a bit of attention in the city.”
I almost laughed at Vanessa’s ridiculous question. Did I actually come off as the type of person to follow such things? She had to be asking for the purpose of small talk.
“No, is it good?” I asked, not sure what else I could add to the conversation.
“I wouldn't know. The thing is, I managed to secure a reservation several months ago for Lillian and me.
However, she isn't feeling well today.” Vanessa paused, clearly expecting me to connect the dots.
“The reviews have been exceptional, and I'd hate to see the second seat go unused. Would you care to join me?” she asked, the invitation delivered with the confidence of someone already anticipating the answer.
A smile began to tug at my lips, but before I could accept, she continued.
“And I will be paying. Whatever it was you attempted to do at the coffee shop, you will not be repeating it this evening.”
Was my reaction that clear of an answer, or was I just that predictable?
“Vanessa—” She pressed her forefinger to my lips.
“Shhh, just say yes. Fighting this won’t get you anywhere,” she coaxed, removing her finger once I was visibly calmer. I sighed, giving in easily went against every fiber of my being, but as she looked at me with assuring eyes, I couldn’t help but like submitting to her.
“What time?” I asked impatiently.
“I’ll pick you up at six. Now go get lunch—I don’t want you passing out in my arms,” she smirked, her auburn waves rocking against her back as her Prada heels clicked away.
Her sleek Porsche pulled up to my apartment building at exactly 5:59, its engine purring softly. Before I could reach for the handle, Vanessa was already out of the car, circling around to my side. She opened the car door, her eyes scanning over my body too subtly for me to really notice.
Brushing off my nerves, I sat down on the angled leather seats, straightening out my dress and peering over at Vanessa. Half of her hair was in an unfamiliar twisted bun, while the rest flowed down in waves. Why hadn’t she taken advantage of those skills more often?
We made small talk for a few minutes before a comfortable silence settled in as I peered out the window, admiring the city lights in the distance. I had been far too drunk to appreciate this car the last time, and Seattle only grew more breathtaking each time I witnessed its beauty.
“Vanessa?” I asked, breaking the quiet atmosphere. I could’ve just asked the question, but I wanted to say her name. It felt nice rolling off my tongue and fit her so perfectly.
“Yes, Evelyn?” she answered, mimicking the way I asked with annoyingly effortless accuracy.
“Did you ever think about becoming a hairstylist? I just ask because I’ve never met anyone else able to do what you can.” I felt the need to justify my question.
“No, definitely not. If I were to use these skills, it would be in other areas.”
“Boating?” I questioned, remembering that conversation all too well. It was one of the most inspirational conversations I’d ever had. The amount of creative material it caused my mind to produce was uncanny.
“You were so drunk—how do you even remember that conversation?” she questioned, shooting me a bemused look as we stopped at a red light.
“Honestly, I don’t know, but tell me about it. I’m intrigued.” I wasn’t letting this opportunity for more spank bank material go. Not that I had a shortage with her around me.
“Well, I grew up near the water, and my friends and I would always go out sailing. They were lazy, so I was the one left doing all the knot work. What I learned with rope eventually translated to hair—or other materials,” she said simply, keeping her answer brief, as if assuming my question had been casual politeness rather than genuine interest.
“So sailing is a lot of knot work?” I eagerly prompted.
“I just said that, no?” she questioned. Even with her head looking straight ahead, I noticed her make a face.
“Well, you weren’t specific,” I clarified with a hint of attitude and a light scowl.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask these questions to humor me. Let’s talk about something you’re actually interested in,” she suggested, suppressing a laugh at my defensiveness.
Needing to assure her I was being genuine if I wanted her to keep talking, I blurted the first sentence that came to mind. “I am so so so interested in your knot skills.”
Vanessa looked taken aback.
“Okay then, what knowledge are you so eager to acquire?” A small curve took residence on her lips. I assumed she was just happy we’d found a topic for discussion—or that this wasn’t awkward—nothing more.
My intuition was telling me to stop talking before my intentions became apparent, but I ignored it.
“What is there to know about knots?” I asked, turning my head to watch as she spoke, afraid to miss even one word.
“Well, there are obviously countless different kinds, ranging anywhere from simple to unimaginably complicated. When sailing, you learn the ins and outs of what each one is best for. If you want me to teach you a few basic ones over dinner, I wouldn’t mind,” she offered, glancing over to catch me staring at her in admiration.
It was enticing when she talked about something she felt passionate about.
She was good at explaining things without being condescending.
Of course, most of the time she chose to be—but right now, she wasn’t.
“Sure, but I’m not really the type of person who would ever use the skill,” I commented carelessly, my mind elsewhere.
“Evelyn, sweetheart, why are you still initiating a conversation on knots with such determination when you have no interest in making them?” she questioned with a sigh.
“Can I not enjoy something unless I’m the one doing it?” No one would get my reference unless they too enjoyed bondage on either end. In reality, Vanessa was too perfect to ever indulge in anything twisted in bed—but my imagination had never been realistic, only active.
“Evelyn, we are going to talk about something else now.” Her voice was soft but nevertheless demanding.
I didn’t need to be told twice. With how serious she suddenly was, my playful demeanor turned sheepish. Had the conversation skirted too near a scandalous topic? Or was she merely bored, exhibiting her demanding nature?
"I wanted to ask you something anyway. Is the new woman who replaced Jane an adequate member of your team?" she questioned, managing to remove the tension hanging in the air from my words.
"She's been wonderful actually, being part of the hiring process made a huge difference.
Vector Line should do that more often, " I answered honestly as we pulled into the restaurant's parking lot. Even though Vanessa had prohibited me from choosing the first candidate because she attended the same university, as in her words, previously utterly useless and ineffective past hires, I was granted a reasonable amount of say. The woman selected was nice and Vanessa encouraged that choice of mine as she’d previously taken on several effective workers from her previous company.
Apparently, what candidates had in common with strong and weak past hires mattered a lot in Vanessa's eyes.
Based on what she taught me, after Jane, there was no doubt in my mind anyone who had remotely anything in common with her would never be considered for a job here.
While I observed the atmosphere and stylish guests around us, we were seated rather quickly. Vanessa seemed rather pleased by my satisfaction with the restaurant of her choosing.