4. Clark #3
The elevator arrived, and we stepped in, both reaching for the same floor.
I let her press the button after our hands lightly brushed each other’s, and I swear I felt her hand shaking.
I looked down to where she was holding her purse, and it was definitely jiggling a bit.
Low blood sugar? Or some arcane thing about pregnancy I didn’t know?
After an uncomfortable silence where she moved from one foot to the other, she cleared her throat and said, “I know I haven’t been neighborly since you moved in, and we do share a wall.
The truth is, I’ve barely moved in myself, and I’ve been sick most of the time.
But tonight, my stomach felt up for Chinese food, and there’s this great place nearby that I stopped at on the way home.
I ordered enough for an army, and I’m more than happy to offer it up for you to share, rather than have me go on a feral pregnancy eating binge.
Would you like to join me?” She sounded tentative when she asked, tucking a wayward bit of her bun behind her ear, which I found endearing.
There really was only one way to reply as I stared into those mesmerizing eyes. “Absolutely.” Something about her had me seriously...twitterpated. “I’m good to go. Lead the way, Olive, if it’s cool that I call you that?”
“Actually,” she said, “I prefer Olly. And of course you can, Clark. Just a warning.” She unlocked her apartment door just as I was locking up mine after I had clumsily thrown my briefcase inside.
“My place is a bit chaotic right now. I just moved in about three weeks ago, and I’m not the best housekeeper when I need to upchuck every twenty minutes.
” Just then, I slapped my hand to my forehead at the same time the pathetic whine came from behind my apartment door.
“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I spaced on taking Becky, my dog, out. I’ll be back in like ten, fifteen minutes if that’s okay?”
“More than okay. This way, you’ll miss my date with the porcelain god in there. I’m about to be sick—”
“Don’t explain, just go,” I said, rushing to grab her bags and purse as she raced to the bathroom.
I placed all the bags on a table she had in the front hall, figuring that was better than just wandering into her kitchen uninvited.
I turned and yanked my keys back out of my pocket and hustled to my own apartment.
I was met by exuberant affection from my girl in the form of a jump and a slobbery lick to the cheek.
I laughed and grabbed the red leash from its spot on the wall coatrack and clipped it to her collar. With a happy yip, we were on our way.
Fog horns groaned in the distance, and as I waited for Becky, I watched as a large and dense fog bank made its way in off the water.
It wouldn’t be quite so thick that one couldn’t see through it here on land, but it would be different than what I was used to back home.
Becky yipped once, and I noticed we weren’t alone.
Jeff Stevens from work had appeared near us as if he were an apparition stepping out of the fog.
He stood a polite distance away as he lit up a smoke, right beside the No Smoking sign.
I didn’t know if he recognized me or not, but he then gave me a nod in acknowledgment, so I bopped my head back.
I was quickly thinking up proper conversational topics when Becky whined a bit, and I realized she was finished.
“Best stay inside, Evans,” he called, sounding serious.
“It’s going to be a night for ghosts and other restless spirits in that fog. ”
I shuddered, and could think of nothing to say back, except, “Thanks, Jeff. See you in the morning.”
I made my way quickly back to Olly’s place, and I could have been knocked over with a feather when I knocked on her door and saw my boss no longer floating in a sea of gloomy business attire.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes pass over her, head to toe.
Now, she wore a pair of tights that had cats in space shooting lasers from their eyes.
This oversized, ratty beige open cardigan had to have belonged to someone’s grandfather but looked extremely comfy, finishing her ensemble with a clingy red tank top splattered with paint here and there, her feet bare and toenails painted purple.
I let my gaze linger a bit too long, because she raised her left eyebrow and said, in a put-on husky voice, “See something you like?”
I felt my cheeks redden and managed a weak-ass, “Maybe.”
She burst into laughter and opened the door even wider, and said, “I think we’ve got the same layout. Kitchen is around the corner and dead ahead is the living room.”
With that, I followed her inside and took in her setup. If she thought this was a mess, God only knows what she would think about my place.
“Take a seat anywhere that looks comfortable,” she said.
“I’ll grab some drinks.” I had to admit I watched her after she turned away from me and walked into the kitchen.
I couldn’t help it, honestly. It was that magnetic attraction again from when we shook hands.
Well, I’d better help it. I just started with the company, and crushing on my boss was a great way to get sent to human resources and put on some kind of probation or, actually, just get canned since I think I was already on a three-month probation.
Fuck. But surely there couldn’t be harm in just getting to know her a bit more, right?
Sure.