Chapter 6
Six
JUNE 8 YEARS AGO
M y eyes flash to Warren’s desk for the hundredth time in the past hour, lips turning down into an even deeper frown.
He was out all last week for a cousin’s wedding in Maryland, but he’s supposed to be back today. I even triple checked his Outlook calendar to make sure it hadn’t changed to Out of Office today too. But it’s already lunch time and there hasn’t been any sign of him yet. I sigh and lock my computer before heading over to meet Ali, Trent, and Sterling. After that first day I joined them for lunch, it was like I’d been here all along. I was added to their group chat, joined them for lunch daily, and spent many evenings with them.
Ali is the leader of the group, making the decisions and rallying everyone together. Sterling is the life of the group—every day is a party with him around. He’s everyone’s biggest cheerleader and I’ve never seen him without a smile on his face. On the other hand, Trent is the quiet, reserved one. He watches over everyone like a mother hen and does his best to keep Ali and Sterling out of trouble. They’ve told me I’m the opinionated one, the one who always speaks her mind and will fight to the death with words for the people I care about.
Ali and Sterling are usually the ones getting us into interesting, and sometimes heated, situations, and Trent hates any confrontation, so I’m the one who gets us out of them. Our differences balance the group dynamic. I’ve never left one of our outings without having a new story to tell and laughing more than I ever did before I met them.
Lunch today was no different, although today, all attention turned to me when I finally admitted what had me distracted after Ali badgered me most of the hour. That spiraled into Ali and Sterling going back and forth with “I knew it,” and “I told you,” and “Should we invite him out with us?”
For once, I’m just as quiet as Trent is. Even as we head out, Ali and Sterling continue to brainstorm ways to find out if he likes me too or set us up.
“Isn’t the quarterly department meeting today?” Trent asks on the walk back to the office and Ali and Sterling stop walking.
“I totally forgot about that,” Ali says, wide-eyed.
Sterling checks his phone. “It’ll be close, but we should have enough time.”
They nod and take off in the opposite direction of the office.
“What’s going on?” I look to Trent for answers and find his eyes on Ali’s retreating form. I glance away before he snaps out of it. He doesn’t know, but I often catch his eyes clinging to Ali when he thinks none of us are watching.
He keeps his head down as he starts to follow them, and I follow his lead down a road I’ve never walked before. We pass a building with a red door that, at first glance, appears to be a house, but then I catch sight of a logo—an acorn with what looks like wind swirling around it. It looks like there’s a bar inside, so I make a mental note of the name—The Dizzy Acorn—to tell the others about later. We’ll have to check it out sometime.
“It’s their tradition to get coffee from Stella Lei before the quarterly meetings. They dragged me along last quarter when I was new, and now, you’re part of the tradition too.” Trent smiles. He might not be as high energy as Ali and Sterling, but you can see how much he likes being a part of the adventures they create.
We reach Stella Lei and my jaw drops. It’s a high-end jewelry shop showcasing diamonds of every size and shape, but off to the right there’s a small coffee counter with a gigantic diamond chandelier overhead where Ali and Sterling are grabbing the four coffees the barista just finished making. Even the coffee cups are extravagant here—white with black polka dots, and the sleeves are blush pink with the Stella Lei logo in a beautiful teal that matches the lid.
I don’t have time to take it all in before Ali shoves a latte into my hands and herds us all out the door.
“We need to go,” she says. And when she uses that serious voice, we all listen.
While we’re waiting for a traffic light to change, I take my first sip of the coffee, and my eyes fly open.
“It’s good, right?” Sterling raises his cup in camaraderie.
“Why don’t we go here more often?” I quickly take another sip before the light changes and we’re off again.
“The prices are exorbitant, but the coffee’s so good, so we settled on once a quarter before this meeting.”
“Well, I already can’t wait for the next one.”
The three of them share a look as we hop on the elevator and Trent hits the number twelve. “I doubt you’ll be saying that in two hours.”
My smile falters. “They’re that bad?”
“You’ll see.” Ali smiles at me as the elevator doors slide open. “Meet back here in two minutes.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
I start walking toward my desk to drop my purse off, but I freeze when I see the one person I’ve been dying to see all day storming towards me.
But he doesn’t look happy to see me at all.
“No, that doesn’t sound good.” Warren stops in front of me. “You’re late.”
“The meeting doesn’t start for five minutes.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s the point.”
I glance around, but there’s no one to explain. “I don’t understand.”
“Come on.” He gently grabs my arm and starts leading me away. “We need to go.”
I look back at Ali and shrug at the question in her eyes, ignoring the insinuation that’s there too. I have no idea what’s happening either. “I’ll see you guys in there.”
“I like what you did with your place, by the way,” Warren says. “I think the average house price of our neighborhood has skyrocketed with all that landscaping.”
He’s referencing the plethora of plants that found a home in my cubicle while he was gone.
“I’d invite you in for a house tour, but it seems I instead need to report a case of breaking and entering.”
“The door was open?” He’s pulling me along at a brisk pace to the only meeting room that can hold our entire department but looks over with that amused smile he always seems to wear around me. I laugh and he finally slows down as we near the meeting room.
“Oh, thank god,” he breathes as we enter the room, and he leads me toward the front corner of the room. “There’s still two seats available.”
I glance around the room and get even more confused. The seats around the large conference table are almost full but there are rows of seats still empty in the back. “There’s still plenty of seats available.”
“Look at the ground,” he whispers once we’ve taken our seats.
With so many people in here, I didn’t immediately notice, but when I look closely, I see that the back third of the room, where the majority of the seats are—and the only other remaining seats—is completely made of glass. I gulp wondering what would have happened if I had to sit on a pane of glass, twelve-stories up for two hours. My hands shake just thinking about it and I set my coffee on the table in front of me so it doesn’t spill.
He saved me from that. He knew and he made sure I wouldn’t be put in a position that terrified me. He remembered the one joking comment I made about heights in our first conversation and saw through to the truth beneath.
“I see your feelings on heights haven’t changed,” he says, and I smile as I shake my head. “What about the people?”
“They’re still pretty great.” I look up at him and smile at the brightness I feel being around him again. Forgetting all about my fear when his face squishes together as he smiles. “Thank you.”
His eyes shift down to the coffee and his brows raise. “Stella Lei, how fancy.”
“It’s tradition,” I say and raise my cup at Ali, Trent, and Sterling who just arrived and head to the seats on the glass.
Ali narrows her eyes in, what I’m assuming is, a question as to why I’m sitting over here, and I nod down at the glass floor. She of all people should understand. Her eyes widen in understanding, and she whispers to Trent and Sterling who nod to me in a sort of apology.
* * *
Ali was right. I’m not looking forward to another one of those meetings. It was all numbers and updates that have nothing to do with what my team works on, except for ten minutes that focused on projects I’m involved in.
But there was one intriguing piece of news from the meeting.
“Congrats on the promotion,” I say once Warren and I are back in our corner. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I had to make sure you wanted to be my friend for me, not just my soon-to-be superior title. You know how it can be.” He shrugs and I fight back a laugh. “And since you’re talking to me more now than you did before, I think it’s fair to say my intuition was correct.”
My mouth drops open, incredulous. “Are you talking about last week? When you were gone all week and I couldn’t talk to you?”
“You could’ve texted.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“So, you would’ve texted?” He raises his eyebrows.
“You obviously wanted me to,” I tease, and he picks up one of the foam basketballs on his desk and lightly throws it at me. I laugh and a smile pulls on the corner of his lips.
“How about I drop the breaking and entering charges and we call it even?” I say.
He laughs. “Deal.”
Warren heads off for a meeting at the end of the day, but something stops me before I leave the office. I want Warren’s number. My eyes land on the foam basketball and I have an idea.
I smile as I finally get on the elevator and soar closer to being on solid ground by the second, hoping that Warren sees the foam basketball I put on his keyboard and it makes him look at his plastic hoop where I left a sticky note with my number and the message: Ball’s in your court now .
I’m not even home when my phone dings with a new message.
Warren
Breaking and entering much?
Me
Where do you think I learned it from?
Warren
I’ll meet you tomorrow. 8 a.m. at Kallia Coffee?
Me
My usual spot at my usual time . . .
Now we’re creeping into stalker territory.
Should I be worried?
Warren
I’ll take that as a yes.
Me
I’ll blow a kiss to the tree outside my window for you tonight.
Warren
How’d you know that’s my favorite perch?
Me
One of the birdies told me.
Warren
Damn it.
I should’ve known they couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
All they do is chirp.
Me
Pretty sure that’s called a bird song.
Warren
Pft, if that’s singing then I’m better than I thought.
Me
I’d pay to see that.
Warren
Then you can buy the drinks to get me drunk enough to actually do it.
Me
You’ve got yourself a deal.
The last time I smiled like this because of text messages was in middle school. He makes me giddy, my chest flutters, heart races, and a smile that lives up to my last name is permanently etched onto my face. We don’t stop texting all evening, and even then, we only stop because I drifted off to sleep sometime after 2 a.m.