Chapter 12 - Still Employed #2
He was standing at the large screen on the wall, Solara plans open.
"You wanted me?"
"Yes."
He pointed toward the screen.
"The lobby transition."
I walked over.
"What about it?"
"The ceiling line conflicts with the revised exterior rhythm."
I studied it.
"No, it doesn't."
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm preparing myself."
"For?"
"The inevitable argument."
I smiled.
"Smart."
His mouth moved.
Again.
There.
I saw it.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Almost smiling."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You absolutely do."
"Look at the drawing."
I stepped closer to the screen.
He pointed.
"Here."
I leaned in.
He moved at the same time.
His arm came beside mine.
Close.
Too close.
His hand landed against the wall beside the screen.
Large palm.
Long fingers.
Rolled sleeve.
Forearm.
Crooked little house.
And cedar.
That fucking cedar.
My brain stopped.
My body, traitorous bitch that it was, noticed everything.
The heat of him beside me.
His shoulder inches from mine.
The low sound of his breathing.
His hand.
Again with the fucking hands.
He's married.
The thought came automatically.
Relief followed instantly.
No, he fucking isn't.
Fuck.
That was significantly less helpful.
There was no wife.
No invisible boundary.
No immediate moral reason for my entire nervous system to shut the fuck up.
Which somehow made everything worse.
I became intensely interested in the ceiling line.
"The transition is fine."
My voice sounded normal.
Excellent.
"It's not."
He leaned slightly closer.
My stomach tightened.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I stepped sideways.
Just enough.
His eyes moved to me.
I pretended not to notice.
"The exterior rhythm doesn't have to continue literally into the lobby."
"I didn't say literally."
"Then what are you asking for?"
He explained.
I listened.
Mostly.
It was difficult to concentrate when my brain had apparently decided that divorced was now an architectural condition requiring constant analysis.
Eventually, I saw what he meant.
"Oh."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Oh?"
"Don't make this unpleasant."
"You agree with me."
"I said don't make it unpleasant."
"You agree with me."
"Partially."
"You agree with me."
I looked at him.
"You're very needy today."
His eyes narrowed.
"Fix the ceiling line."
I smiled.
"Sure."
I turned toward the door.
"Angelica."
I looked back.
His gaze stayed on me.
For a second, I thought he was going to say something else.
Instead-
"Nothing."
Weird man.
By Wednesday, the office had apparently developed a new hobby.
Watching me argue with Adrian.
I discovered this when he stopped at my desk at ten seventeen.
"The material schedule is incomplete."
"No, it isn't."
Ben immediately stopped typing.
I looked at him.
"Seriously?"
He resumed typing.
Very badly.
Adrian glanced toward him.
Ben became the most productive employee in Florida.
I looked back at Adrian.
"Which part?"
"Stone specification."
"Page four."
"No."
"Yes."
"It's not there."
I opened the file.
Scrolled.
Page four.
Pointed.
"There."
Adrian stared at it.
Then at me.
I smiled.
"Would you like me to make the font bigger?"
Maya made a choking sound.
Adrian looked toward her.
She coughed.
"Sorry."
His attention returned to me.
"Send me the updated version."
"That is the updated version."
A pause.
"I'll check again."
"You do that."
He walked away.
Ben waited until Adrian was safely across the office.
Then rolled his chair toward me.
"I need to understand something."
"No."
"How?"
"How what?"
"How are you alive?"
"Vegetables."
"Angel."
"Exercise?"
"You just asked him if he needed a bigger font."
"He couldn't find the specification."
"He owns the company."
"That doesn't improve his eyesight."
Maya started laughing.
I looked toward Adrian.
He was at the conference table.
And looking directly at me.
Our eyes met.
I stopped laughing.
He held my gaze for a second.
Then looked back down at the plans.
Something warm moved through my stomach.
Annoying.
The coffee continued too.
Which was particularly irritating because I had specifically told him to stop.
Tuesday.
Coffee.
Thursday.
Coffee.
The following Monday.
Coffee.
Sometimes on my desk.
Sometimes handed directly to me.
Always exact.
Always perfect.
And every single time-
"This means nothing."
"I didn't say it did."
Which was becoming an extremely annoying conversation.
Mostly because he never said it did.
That was the problem.
He never said anything.
Ethan became a regular presence at my desk.
Not constantly.
Enough.
Coffee.
Lunch.
Random theft.
Occasionally waiting to walk to the garage.
It was easy.
Normal.
I never thought about where his hands were.
Never noticed what he smelled like.
Never forgot what I was saying because his shoulder was six inches from mine.
Which was how normal human interaction was supposed to work.
Adrian, unfortunately, seemed increasingly irritated by Ethan's continued existence.
At least, that was my working theory.
I had no evidence.
Except his face.
And his face was admittedly difficult evidence.
Thursday afternoon, Ethan leaned over my desk to look at a rendering.
"This one."
"No."
"This one is better."
"You have terrible taste."
"You asked my opinion."
"I didn't know it would be wrong."
"Why do I help you?"
"Because I'm delightful."
"You're something."
I laughed.
A shadow fell across the desk.
I didn't need to look up.
Cedar.
Of course.
"Ethan."
Ethan straightened.
"Adrian."
Adrian's eyes moved to the rendering.