Chapter 14 - Mixed Signals
There were apparently stages to whatever the hell was happening between Adrian Vale and me.
Stage one had been simple.
He hated me.
Stage two had been slightly less simple.
I hated him back.
Stage three had involved coffee, late nights, a divorce I hadn't known about, several arguments, one extremely unfortunate dimple, and flower-shaped carrots.
I had no idea what stage four was.
But I was beginning to suspect it might kill me.
Monday morning, there was coffee on my desk.
Of course there was.
I set my bag down and looked at it.
Same order.
Same size.
Exactly the way I liked it.
No note.
There was never a note.
I picked it up and took a sip.
Still warm.
Across the office, Adrian was talking to Daniel beside one of the conference rooms.
White shirt.
Dark tie.
Serious expression.
Completely focused on whatever Daniel was showing him.
As if he hadn't apparently stopped somewhere that morning and bought my exact coffee.
Again.
I looked down at the cup.
This meant nothing.
We had established that.
Repeatedly.
The problem was that things that meant nothing were beginning to happen with suspicious frequency.
"Morning."
Maya dropped into her chair.
"Morning."
Her eyes went immediately to the coffee.
Then to me.
I pointed at her.
"No."
"I literally just got here."
"You were about to say something."
"I was going to say good morning."
"You already did."
"Maybe I wanted to say it twice."
"You didn't."
She smiled.
I took another sip.
Across the office, Adrian looked up.
Our eyes met.
Just for a second.
Then he went back to Daniel.
I looked down at my computer.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
By eleven, Adrian and I had argued twice.
By noon, three times.
Things were back to normal.
Mostly.
"You changed the glazing."
"Yes."
"I told you not to change the glazing."
"You told me the previous configuration wasn't working."
"That isn't the same thing."
I stared at him across the conference table.
"What exactly did you expect me to do? Ask it politely to work better?"
Ben made a choking sound.
Adrian didn't look away from me.
"I expected you to adjust the mullion spacing."
"I did."
"Not enough."
"So I changed the glazing."
"Which I told you not to do."
"After I changed it."
His jaw tightened.
"That is not how this process works."
"It worked beautifully from my side."
"Ms. Stone."
"There it is."
His eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"The voice."
"What voice?"
"The one that says you're approximately three seconds away from firing me."
"I am not firing you."
"Excellent. Then we're making progress."
Something happened to his mouth.
Not a smile.
Definitely not.
But I saw it.
He knew I saw it.
And immediately looked back at the drawings.
"Change the mullion spacing."
"Two inches."
"Three."
"Two and a half."
His eyes lifted.
"Are you negotiating with me?"
"Yes."
"This isn't a flea market."
"Two and a half."
A pause.
"Fine."
Silence.
I smiled.
"Look at us compromising."
"Don't make me regret it."
"Too late."
Somewhere to my left, Ben whispered-
"Did she just negotiate him down half an inch?"
Daniel murmured, "Apparently."
"And he agreed?"
"Apparently."
Adrian's head turned.
Both of them immediately looked at their drawings.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Anything else?" Adrian asked.
"Nope."
"Good."
He walked away.
Ben waited until he was safely out of earshot.
"I don't understand your employment anymore."
"Neither do I."
It happened Wednesday afternoon.
And, in retrospect, it was entirely Adrian's fault.
Probably.
We were standing at one of the large presentation tables reviewing a revised set for Solara.
Adrian was behind me, slightly to my left.
Not touching.
Not particularly close.
Just close enough that when he spoke, I could hear his voice more clearly than necessary.
Which was annoying.
I was leaning over the drawings, tracing the revised circulation path with one finger.
"If we move this opening here, we can keep the sightline without changing the-"
I stepped forward.
Something pulled sharply at the back of my head.
"Ow."
I stopped.
Adrian stopped.
"What happened?"
"My hair."
I reached behind myself.
Something tugged again.
"Ow. Shit."
"Stop."
"I am stopped."
"You're pulling it."
"I'm trying to figure out what it's caught on."
I reached farther back.
Another tug.
"Angelica."
"What?"
"Stop moving."
I froze.
"Why?"
Silence.
I tried to look over my shoulder.
"What?"
"Your hair is caught on my shirt."
I stopped breathing for approximately three business days.
"What?"
"Your hair."
"I heard that part."
"Then why did you ask?"
"How the hell did my hair get caught on your shirt?"
"I don't know, Angelica."
"Well, you're the architect. Figure it out."
He exhaled through his nose.
I could feel him moving behind me.
"Don't move."
"You've said that."
"And yet you keep moving."
"I can't see what you're doing."
"Exactly."
His fingers brushed lightly against my hair.
I went still.
Actually still this time.
He was trying to untangle it from somewhere behind me.
I couldn't see his hands.
Which somehow made the entire thing worse.
I could feel tiny movements against my hair.
Occasionally his knuckles brushed the back of my shoulder.
Once, very lightly, the side of my neck.
My brain immediately resigned.
"Is it out?"
"No."
"You've been doing this for thirty seconds."
"Would you prefer I rip it?"
I gasped.
"Touch one hair on my head and I'll sue the company."
"I own the company."
"Excellent. Bigger settlement."
Silence.
Then-
"Turn around."
Oh.
That sounded easy.
It wasn't.
"I can't."
"You can."
"My hair is attached to you."
"I'm aware."
"That's generally considered an obstacle."
"Turn slowly."
I did.
Very slowly.
And immediately discovered the problem.
A few strands of my hair had somehow wrapped themselves around one of the buttons near the middle of his shirt.
Which meant turning around brought me directly in front of him.
Close.
Very close.
Stupidly close.
My eyes landed on his chest first.
White cotton.
Dark tie.
My black-and-wine hair tangled around a button.
"This is ridiculous."
"Yes."
"I blame you."
"For your hair?"
"For having aggressive buttons."
"They're buttons."
"That's exactly what an aggressive button would want you to think."
His fingers moved toward the knot again.
I looked down.
"I can get it."
"Don't pull."
"I know how hair works."
"Your recent performance suggests otherwise."
I looked up.
"Do you want to lose a finger?"
"Concentrate."
Asshole.
I brought both hands up.
One held the strand loose.
The other worked at the hair wrapped around his button.
Which meant my fingers were against his shirt.
Which meant they were against his chest.
Not directly.
Obviously.
There was fabric.
A perfectly respectable layer of professional cotton.
My nervous system did not give a shit.
Warm.
Firm.
Very firm.
I swallowed.
"Hold still."
"I am holding still."
"You moved."
"I breathed."
"Could you not?"
His eyes dropped to me.
"Are you asking me to stop breathing?"
"Temporarily."
"Take your time."
I looked up.
His face was completely serious.
I stared at him.
"You're being sarcastic."
"No."
"You are."
"Focus on the button, Ms. Stone."
I looked back down.
"Coward."
His chest moved beneath my fingertips.
I didn't know if that was a laugh trying to happen or just another inconvenient breath.
Probably the latter.
Finally-
"There."
The last strand slipped free.
"Got it."
Neither of us moved.
My fingers were still resting against his shirt.
His hand was still holding the end of my hair.
I looked down at his hand.
Large fingers.
One dark strand and one wine-red strand lying across them.
Then I looked up.
Adrian was already looking at me.
Something changed.
The humor disappeared first.
Not because he looked angry.
He didn't.
That would've been easier.
He just-
looked at me.
And suddenly I was extremely aware of everything.
My hand against his chest.
His fingers in my hair.
The distance between us.
Or lack of it.
His eyes.
Deep blue.
His breathing.
Mine.
The fact that neither of us was moving even though there was absolutely nothing keeping us together anymore.
Adrian's fingers opened.
My hair slipped free.
I lowered my hand.
He stepped back.
"Let's finish the review."
His voice was different.
Controlled.
I blinked.
"Okay."
He moved to the opposite side of the table.
And just like that-
it was gone.
Whatever it had been.
Gone.
Five minutes later, I tried to make a joke.
Because that was what I did when things became uncomfortable.
"You know, I think your shirt owes me an apology."
Adrian didn't look up.
"It was a button, Ms. Stone."
"An aggressive button."
"Can we focus on the work?"
I stopped.
The words weren't particularly cruel.
It was the tone.
Cold.
Flat.
Like the last ten minutes hadn't happened.
"I was joking."
"I'm aware."
"Apparently not."
His jaw tightened.
"Angelica-"
"Forget it."
I looked down at the drawings.
Fine.
Whatever.
We worked for another twenty minutes.
He barely spoke except to discuss the project.
When we finished, I gathered my things.
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Great."
I walked out.
And for the rest of the afternoon, Adrian Vale acted like my hair had never been wrapped around his shirt.
Fine.
I could do that too.
Thursday morning there was coffee on my desk.
I stared at it.
Of course there fucking was.
I looked across the office.
Adrian was in his office.
Door closed.
On the phone.
I looked back at the coffee.
I stood there for another second, trying to understand the man who had barely wanted to speak to me yesterday afternoon and had apparently still remembered my coffee this morning.
Maya looked over.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I sat down.
The coffee continued existing.
Warm.
Exact order.