CHAPTER THREE
Grey walls. Grey carpet. Grey desk top. Everywhere I look in my office there’s grey. Well it’s not so much an office as a cubical. Okay fine, it’s a cubical. Why are cubical farms so gloomy? If they force employees to work on Saturdays, the least they could do is add a little color. It’s depressing.
The single highlight of my day thus far came from panicky texts from Aspen over Finn’s talk of marriage. My bestie’s so far gone for her gamer boyfriend I can’t figure out why she fights it so hard. If I had a loyal and loving guy like Finn wrapped around my finger, I’d do whatever it took to keep him there forever. If my past taught me anything it’s to grab on to a good one and never take him for granted.
“Marissa, do you have last month’s figures for the Cline account?” Scott, another marketing assistant questions from his cubical three down and one over from mine.
I stand with the forms and turn in his direction. “Yeah, they’re right here. I’m done if you need them.”
The sheets are covered in yellow from where I marked the client’s ad analysis this morning. It’s the fun activity I get to do every first of the month regardless of the day of the week. Hence my Saturday work schedule.
“Thanks, I’ll come grab them. Do you want a fresh coffee?”
There are three of us in the office today, but the other employee has been in the conference room with the door closed all morning. I’m not concerned she’ll tell someone I’m on my third break for the hour.
I duck down to grab my coffee cup and by the time I stand again Scott’s at my cubical opening. He leans on the side with one elbow propped up on the top. I’ve gone on plenty of breaks with Scott, but I’ve never noticed how tall he is until this moment. I like it.
His black hair is disheveled, but his dark brown eyes sparkle from the sunlight behind him. He smiles and I look at Scott, really look at him, for maybe the first time.
His light blue polo shirt fits tight giving his chest definition I’ve never spotted before. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt a fraction. Did Scott purchase a gym membership or I have been unaware of these pieces of him over the last four years?
“The Cline account went crazy last month, huh?” His eyes take in the yellowed sheets in my hand as I pass them to him.
“Uh-huh.”
Scott continues to talk about the account as he scans over each page, and I absentmindedly nod my head in agreement, but I don’t hear his words. My eyes remain locked on his arms as I try to figure out when they started to look like this.
Scott and I have worked together for years, but I’ve never taken stock of his finer qualities until now. He’s single, cute, dresses well, and isn’t an asshole. So much so he volunteers at an animal shelter on the weekends.
“Let me drop these off, grab my cup and we’ll head downstairs,” he says and I drop my eyes to the yellow coffee cup I’m holding.
“Yeah.”
Wow, Marissa, way to be wordy and intelligent. I fidget, moving from foot to foot the few moments I wait for Scott to return. We’ve had coffee a hundred times in the breakroom on the floor below ours and I’ve never had problems speaking in full sentences before. Scott returns to my cubical and the reason for my monosyllabic vocabulary hits me.
I might like Scott. Of course once my mind registers this it also turns me into a shy simpering maiden, not the kick ass lady I am. I’m not the only girl this happens to, am I?
“Ready?” Scott walks past my cubical and I use a few large strides to catch up to him.
At the stairwell he pulls open the large metal door and allows me to go through first. Such a gentleman. Unaware of my new crush, Scott continues to talk about the Cline account while we walk to the lower floor. I maintain my steady head nodding to pretend I’m interested in every word he speaks. Little does the unsuspecting man know I'm using this time to check him out and decide how tall of a heel I could wear around him.
“Marissa, watch out!”
I spot Scott’s panicked expression at the same time my right foot hits the large box placed on a step. Hands fly out to catch me as my body tips forward. To save myself from the inevitably painful fall down the hard staircase, I reach out and grab on to the handrail. My body jerks and I end up planted on my bottom a step above the offending box, but at least I'm not lying sprawled out on the bottom floor and I kept hold of my cup.
“Are you okay?” Scott bends down until we’re eye level.
I’ve lived through the experience and my body responds by blushing from the monumental embarrassment of my failed attempt to walk. Perfect. I would decide I have an interest in a guy and then almost fall to my death five minutes later. Aspen’s the clumsy one, but this is my luck in regards to men.
“Do you need help up?”
“No, I’m fine.” I pull myself up with the same rail that stopped my fall. My right foot stops on the white step and a shooting pain radiates up my leg. I gasp and almost sit back down, but I place my weight on my left foot and manage to remain standing.
Scott doesn’t stand when I do, but he watches my face and flinches when I gasp. “Which ankle is it?” he asks.
“The right one, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I try to play it down. Tears well up at the bottoms of my eyes and I discreetly reach up to wipe them away. If I can get back to my desk, it will feel better before I leave work.
Scott pulls on the bottom of my jeans and I freak out, shaking my foot at him so he’ll let go. I don’t remember the last time I shaved. He can’t touch my hairy legs.
