12. Drake
Drake
Over the next few days, it becomes clear that Olivia is avoiding me at work.
I don't blame her, but it still doesn't feel good.
I feel bad about kissing her in my office on Monday and wish I could take it back.
She was coming to me to tell me that what happened between us was done, and I ignored her wishes.
I try to forget about her and focus on work, but I can't. Every time I think I'm in the clear, I look up and see her at her station, stirring or cooking with that adorable furrow in her eyebrows while she concentrates.
She laughs with some employees as they make small talk, and I wish I was one of them.
I would give anything to go over there and joke with her, or be the one to make her laugh.
I wish things could be different between us.
Maybe if we had met under different circumstances, she could be the one I settle down with.
I wouldn't mind coming home every day to the smell of freshly baked bread and finding her in the kitchen with a messy apron.
It's a weird fantasy that I've never had. I hardly know what to do with myself.
Friday rolls around, and my work from the week has stacked up thanks to the constant distraction. I need to get a lot done before the weekend, so I force every non-work thought from my mind. It's amazing what having deadlines will do for your focus.
I arrive at the office an hour earlier than normal, and I instructed Joseph to not let anybody bother me. I even closed the blinds in my office to make sure I couldn’t look at Olivia all day.
It doesn't even occur to me that the workday has passed until two light knocks on my office door catch my attention, and I look up to see Olivia with a plate of food in her hands. I gesture for her to come in, and she gingerly takes a seat across the desk from me.
“I figured I would bring you something to eat before I leave for the day,” Olivia says, setting down a plate across from me.
I look at the clock on my computer, see that it's already 6 p.m., and wonder why she's still here. “I noticed you’ve been locked in here all day, and I thought you might be hungry.”
“Thank you; I really appreciate that,” I say, pulling the plate toward me. I look at it to see orange chicken, Chinese lo mein, and two spring rolls. It smells heavenly. “This is one of my favorites. How did you know?”
“Well, you've never asked me to cook anything for you, so I took the liberty of asking around. It was either this or Hawaiian pizza.” She laughs and settles into the chair as I eagerly take a bite. “I thought you were a picky eater, so I was a little surprised to hear that.”
“Honestly, that's about as adventurous as my culinary palette gets,” I joke, nodding as I bite into the flavor-packed dish. I don't know if it's because I haven't eaten anything all day or if her cooking is this incredible, but it's the best orange chicken I've ever had.
“I guess this is sort of an apology, too,” Olivia says, looking away nervously and fidgeting with her hands. “I feel bad about how I left on Monday, and I've definitely been avoiding you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say after swallowing a bite of the spring roll. “You told me you wanted to make sure nothing happened again, and I didn't respect that. I should have listened to you. I was too swept up in my feelings to hear what you were saying.”
She exhales a long sigh of relief and smiles appreciatively. “I'm starting to feel guilty about how things ended. I just wanted to make sure there was no animosity. I really like this job, and if we can forget this happened, that would be perfect.”
“Does that mean you're not going to tell your dad?” I ask, putting my fork down as the conversation gets a little more serious.
“I thought about it a lot this week, and I think it would be best if I don't. He's very protective, and if he found out anything happened between us...”
“Oh, I can imagine what he'd do,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I remember one time in college when someone said something about your mom. I won't get into the details, but he almost got expelled.”
Her eyes widen and she chuckles. “He's older and wiser now.”
“And much more capable of hiding a body,” I add with a wink. “But seriously, I understand. I'm sorry if you were in an uncomfortable position.”
An unbearable tickle in the back of my throat forces me to clear it abruptly. “Excuse me. I must’ve swallowed something wrong.” I do it again with no luck. I reach for my water bottle and take a long swig, feeling temporary relief as the cool water rushes down my throat.
“Are you okay?” Olivia leans forward with concern.
“Yeah, I'm just—” I clear my throat again, and it turns into a loud, hacking cough as I reach for my throat. I see my hands for the first time, and they’re bright red. I'm definitely having an allergic reaction.
I look at the plate in a panic, picking up the spring roll to see a tiny, pink shrimp nestled inside the vegetables. I lose focus on our conversation and begin searching my desk for an EpiPen.
“Oh, my God, are you having an allergic reaction?” Olivia asks, jumping up from her chair and rushing around the desk to try to help me. “What can I do?”
“EpiPen,” I croak out, hardly able to say the word as my throat swells.
She sees me rooting through my desk and tries to help me, but after a few moments, we realize it isn't there. I suddenly remember the first week in the office when Tyler ordered Thai food for everyone, and my pad thai had shrimp in it. I never picked up a new one from the pharmacy.
“Call... help...” I say as my vision blurs from the lack of oxygen. I watch as Olivia fumbles with her phone and dials 911, rushing out of the office shortly after they arrive.
Two EMTs kneel beside me, one of them grabbing an EpiPen from their bag and plunging it into my thigh.
I feel immediate relief as the epinephrine rushes through my system and I can take a full gasp of air for the first time in minutes.
Everything else happens in a blur as I try to make sense of everything while they put me on a stretcher and take me out of the office.
Olivia is running behind them trying to keep up. She tries to climb into the back of the ambulance with me, but one of the EMTs stops her and asks her something I can't quite comprehend as the other straps an oxygen mask to my face.
“I’m his fiancée,” Olivia says as she fights for a position in the back of the ambulance. It's the first thing I've picked up from this ordeal, and all I can think about as they turn on the siren and rush through the busy L.A. traffic is that her hand is clamped around mine.