To her surprise, there was one from Daniel. Thinking for date I can take you to party next Saturday, it said. How does that sound?
It didn’t sound much like a date. She would be going to the party anyway, and the whole idea had been to get Daniel alone, in a one-on-one situation where hopefully she could open up and show him she was more than just the mousy girl who could print him out five different charts analyzing the same data.
She was starting to type her reply when she heard a door open, and Asa walked into the kitchen, carrying his laptop, his earbuds still in. He did an actual double take when he saw her, stopping momentarily in the middle of the black-and-white checkered floor.
She didn’t know if the crisis line involved any kind of audio or if it was all text, if she would disrupt him if she spoke. So she just lifted her hand in a small wave, and his mouth quirked in a smile even as his gaze drifted down her face to her throat.
Lauren had chosen her button-up very carefully that morning, because its starched collar hid the small love bite Asa had left on the dip of her neck into her shoulder. Or at least, she’d thought it did. She reached up to ensure that all the buttons were still done up, tugging at the bottom of the shirt in case it had started to gape over her chest.
“Careful,” Kiki said in an exaggerated whisper, handing Asa a small plate of pizza rolls. “They’ll burn your taste buds off.”
“All part of the experience,” he said. “Thanks.”
He balanced the plate expertly in one hand, his laptop in the other, before disappearing back into his room. At least Lauren knew where it was now.
“How long has he done that?” she asked. “The crisis line thing?”
Kiki shrugged, dividing the rest of the pizza rolls onto four separate plates. “As long as I’ve known him,” she said. “A couple years at least.”
“Because of what happened with his dad?”
Kiki paused midbite, setting the roll back down on the plate. “Wait, how do you know about his dad?”
Lauren felt her face heat. It hadn’t even occurred to her that maybe that might’ve been a secret, or at least something she shouldn’t go mouthing off about. “He told me . . .”
Kiki looked like she was going to say something else, but luckily Elliot came in the kitchen just then, grabbing a flavored seltzer water from the fridge. “Are we going to start the movie, or not?” they asked. “Some of us have to work in the morning.”
“Technically, my shift starts at eleven, which is the morning,” Kiki said. “And I can’t just roll out of bed and pound out words on my laptop. I have to actually get dressed and look presentable.”
“Oh, presentable,” Elliot said. “Sounds like you’ll need to be up at the crack of dawn, then, to give yourself enough time.”
“You don’t deserve these,” Kiki said, handing them a plate of pizza rolls.
Lauren had settled into a spot on the couch, the movie already started, when her phone buzzed next to her. She realized she’d never bothered answering Daniel, and figured it was him again, but it turned out to be from a local number she didn’t recognize.
Miracle on 34th Street—that your pick?
She knew who it had to be, but she couldn’t help but glance around, verifying that everyone else was concentrated on the movie.
Group consensus. Couldn’t decide which Christmas movie was the best.
His reply, when it came in, was a gif of Catherine O’Hara from Home Alone, shouting “Kevin!” Lauren couldn’t stop the small snort-laugh that came from her nose, and she gave John an apologetic look when he glanced up. She even tried to put her phone away after that, so as not to be rude, but then another message buzzed in.
I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.
Well, why would he? She hadn’t even known she’d be coming over. And she didn’t see how it would’ve made any difference. It wasn’t like she’d come over specifically to see him.
Oh god. Was that what he thought? That she’d somehow engineered this as a way to spend more time with him after last night?
She hated this sudden awareness of him, of wondering what he thought or how he felt. Earlier, she’d felt a stirring from watching him wrap a present, for crying out loud, which she told herself was only because she found extreme competence a turn-on.
Before, she’d known where she and Asa stood—they were coworkers, not overly friendly ones, and rivals in a competition to figure out ways to improve Cold World. At various points last night, she’d thought they were becoming something more like friends. But then they’d messed around, which was a more polite way of saying that he’d fingered her until she saw stars.