Big deal! Cleo responded seconds later. Who knew Fran bumping into a hot weirdo on the subway would get YOU a girlfriend LOL
Without even thinking, I typed out He’s not a weirdo and then let my finger hover over the little blue arrow that would deliver the message to my friends. I tended to avoid conflict; I’d always rather steady the boat than rock it. But something about the phrase “hot weirdo” got under my skin. I mean, sure, he was a little awkward. And, yeah, he wore a tie like 95 percent of the time and refused to eat sugar. But the Hayes I’d gotten to know was also kind and witty, quiet and thoughtful. I liked those things, and I liked them enough to finally hit SEND, conflict be damned.
*
I took the train back into the city on Thursday afternoon to finalize measurements for the window shades we were installing. Hayes and Eleanor had given me an extra set of keys to the office, as well as the alarm code, so I could come and go as needed. Yesterday, I’d been there bright and early with my coffee, to oversee the electrician handling the fixtures and wiring. Finally, I was doing the hands-on work I’d dreamed about, getting to dork out about every step.
“Hello?” I called, even though I knew no one was there, feeling both relieved and disappointed that I wasn’t going to see Hayes today. Inside, the office was lit up by the sun, and the tall palms that had been brought in for the reception area cast lightning-bolt shadows across the floor. Already, the space had the soothing energy of a spa, and my breath immediately settled in my chest. But the quiet was interrupted by the sound of someone walking across the wood floor, and Hayes emerged from his office, in light-gray suit pants with a white collared shirt tucked into them. No tie or jacket to be seen.
“Franny, hi.” He ran a hand through his enviably thick hair.
“Hey,” I said, smoothing the front of my wrinkled overalls. Suddenly, I could feel the sweat on my forehead, smell the body odor coating my armpits. I tucked my hair behind my ear and desperately wished I’d remembered to put on some lip gloss before walking into the building. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Sorry, I had a long day of meetings. I needed to get out of the office,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets and smiling. “My brain was hurting. On top of this new office and the party, we’re figuring out the strategy for opening a West Coast office, in Seattle. Plus all our other work on top of that.”
“So you got out of the office and came to…your office?” I said, teasing him.
He shrugged with a bashful laugh, which was low and husky and hit me in a way that felt like longing, igniting parts of my body that ached to be touched. I stuck my thumb between my teeth and bit it, taking a deep breath. It didn’t help.
“Hey, I get it,” I said, not wanting him to feel self-conscious by my joking around. “When I need to think, I go to the Laundromat down the street from my apartment.”
He gave me a skeptical look.
“Seriously,” I insisted. “It’s a habit left over from college. I even have a washer and dryer in my place now, but there’s something about being out in public, watching clothes tumble around. I dunno.” I shrugged. “It helps my brain calm down. Especially if I’m stressed or angry about something.”
“Well, the next time I piss you off, I’ll be sure to leave my dirty clothes with you,” he said as he pushed his sleeves up his forearms.
“I mean, didn’t you kind of do that once already?” I teased.
My eyes caught his as he let out a surprised laugh. I loved that we could go back and forth like this; he could dish it, but he could also take it. And it dawned on me: Talking to Hayes was fun. So fun, in fact, that I’d forgotten why I was there in the first place.
“Well…” I trailed off. “Um…I’m just going to measure your windows so we can finalize the shades so…”
You’re here to work, Franny, I reminded myself. And he’s dating a blond skyscraper of human perfection. You need to let it go.
“Of course. Don’t let me hold you up,” he said with a curt nod. We were back to being cardboard cutouts, two paper dolls dancing around each other. It was probably better this way, I reasoned. This was work, nothing more. But I couldn’t help but hate the quiet left in the wake of our laughter.
I gave him a small wave and walked toward the endless windows beckoning me, ushering in the late-afternoon light. I snuck a look back to see him sitting on the floor of his office, leaning against the wall, legs long and crossed in front of him, laptop on his thighs. His focus was intense, singular, direct, and watching him stare at his computer reminded me how much I liked it when that focus was squarely on me.