Is he for real? I remember he works in marketing and his enthusiasm begins to make more sense. He’s smiling at the ceiling as if he sees something there in la la land, where he’s obviously a frequent visitor. I glance upward briefly, following his gaze before focusing back on him. He’s too close. I can smell him.
“Please get up,” I insist, my voice shaking.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asks.
I jolt up from my chair and he stumbles backward. “While I’m certain your tales of driving vigor entertain and entice many people, I am not one of them. Do you have a point to this madness?” I question as he lifts to his feet.
He straightens his tie and smiles, unaffected. I’m certain I was just insanely rude, but it doesn’t appear to have altered his mood in the slightest.
“Right. So I have a proposition for you. Since we both make the long commute to the same company every day, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to ride together?”
Is he serious? I can’t help but smile at the absurdity of his question. A small huff of air escapes my lips and then it’s an actual chuckle. I can’t control it. He seems amused. He’s taking my laughter the wrong way, so I decide I’d better enlighten him.
“Hell to the no.”
He furrows his brows and appears to study me. I don’t like it. I take a deep breath and attempt to be kind.
“Thank you for the offer, but just like I eat by myself, I drive by myself. I have no interest in sharing my commute with anyone.”
“Really?” he questions. “It’s such a long drive. I wouldn’t mind a little conversation or some company. Don’t you get lonely driving all that way by yourself?”
The word lonely echoes briefly in my ears, but I shake my head. “There’s a reason I work in accounting.”
He stares at me for what seems like forever. I watch his eyes move from my eyes to my hair, to my nose then my lips. He’s still smiling and I don’t think he’s getting my point.
I break the silence. “I prefer not talking,” I state matter-of-factly.
“I see,” he responds. “We can take talking off the table. I can be quiet.”
“Ha!” I reply sarcastically. “And I have a bridge I can sell you.”
His lip curls slightly. “What if I promised to not talktoomuch?”
“Still no.” I shake my head.
“What if I brought tea every morning?”
I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear and do a quick visual search of my desk for a hair clip. “I don’t drink tea.”
“Coffee?” he asks, stepping forward.
“No,” I state, stepping back.
“You don’t drink coffee either?”
“No. Yes. Yes, I drink coffee, but my answer is still no. Good day, Mr. Walsh.” I sit back down in my chair and turn away, hoping he’ll leave.
“Good day?” He laughs. “What are you, eighty-five?”
I sigh. “I assumed good day would be more pleasant than please leave, but since you haven’t taken the hint, thenplease leave.”
“You’re tough,” he says with a smirk, crossing his arms. “What if I drive every day?”
I sigh again and shuffle the papers around on my desk.
“Hmm…I can see this isn’t your first negotiation,” he says. “What will it take to convince you to give me a chance?”
He crouches next to me again and I turn quickly in anger. Before I can respond, he speaks again. “What if I don’t charge you for gas? See, I really just want to drive in the fast lane.”
