“We had just—” He gestures between us. “And you smelled...” His eyes go big. “And you’re just so...” His brow crinkles, his lips pursed like he’s tasting a word but it’s a bit off.I’m just sowhat?It’s good, right? It has to be good. The need to know what I amsoclaws at my insides like hunger.
“So then I...” He sighs. “Kissed you. I was terrified that I had made you uncomfortable and I need you to know that if I did, if you felt even an ounce of discomfort or fear, how sorry I am.”
“I didn’t,” I say quietly at the still-warm copy paper in front of me. How can he stand so tall, be so sure, in a moment like this. I can’t look at him and think at the same time. I can’t say out loud that how little discomfort I felt is what makes my behavior so wholly inappropriate.
He smiles and it’s crooked and shy. I want to smooth it out with my thumb. I slam my eyes closed at the thought, like I’m slamming down a garage door on all the inappropriate thoughts I’ve started having about my intern.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me.
“Regardless, you are well within your rights to go to human resources. If...if you did feel taken advantage of. I wouldn’t try to stop you.”
He pushes his glasses up his nose. He studies me until my neck and cheeks feel warm and I fight the urge to look away.
“So...” He speaks slowly, choosing each word carefully. “It’s not going to happen again?”
My eyes feel bigger than my face and I take a stuttering breath.
“Itcan’thappen again.”
He watches me again, silent. The frown in his eyes, on his mouth, smooths out. His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Well, for what it’s worth.” He knocks his fist twice on my desk. “I wouldn’t mind if it did.”
He walks out, the contracts tucked under his arm. I stare in silence at the closed door for five minutes after he leaves, my chest full of butterflies, my stomach in knots.
Chapter 19: Wesley
Ms. Blunt closes her office door at quarter to six. She idles behind me, locking up, putting her coat on, rummaging through her bag. Finally, she takes the step to stand beside me.
She places a brown envelope on my desk. “Can you take this to Richard’s office, please?”
“Sure.” I stand and it brings me within inches of her and all I smell is coconut and baseball diamond. My skin is too tight, hot, like every cell remembers her. Meanwhile, I can’t remember what I was about to ask her. She’s so close I can feel her breath as she exhales on the exposed skin of my throat.
She blinks away, taking a step back. “It can wait until tomorrow, though. You can probably head home now.”
“Oh. Yes.”
Her dismissal triggers my memory. “Actually, it’s my birthday tomorrow,” I say, gathering my blazer and messenger bag. “I was wondering if it would be okay if I got out of here...” I stop. Because she’s staring at me. But not at my face.
Lower.
I brush my hand across my chest. “Is there a stain?” I mutter, thinking of the copious amounts of mustard the lunch lady put on my Reuben sandwich.
Her eyes move lower and I panic.Is my fly down?
“What?” I nearly yell in a panic and she jumps back.
“Nothing.” She steps away, studies the ceiling. “What were you saying?”
“Uh, it’s my birthday tomorrow. Would it be okay if I left early?”
“Do you have plans?” she asks.
I push my glasses up my nose. “Yeah. A dinner. My sister organized it.” I try not to sound too inconvenienced by my sister organizing a party for us.
She nods. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Really?” I was half hoping she’d say we had some new project we’d have to work on the whole night.
