Daniel Williams: Come to my office on Monday morning please. Important.
I stare at the message. Read it twice. Three times.
“What?” Gretchen leans over. Sees the screen. “Oh.”
“He’s texting me.”
“I can see that.”
“About work.”
“Probably.”
“Definitely.” I set the phone down. “It’s work-related. It has to be.”
“Right. Obviously.”
But my pulse is racing and my hands are shaking slightly.
One text. Nine words. And I’m a mess.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are. Your neck is doing that thing.”
I press my hand to my throat. It’s warm. “Shut up.”
“This is bad, Bay.”
“I know.”
“You’re really not over this.”
“I know.”
“One text from him and you’re—”
“I know!” I grab my coffee cup, draining the last of it. “I know, okay? I know this is a disaster. I know I should be able to handle this. I know it’s just a work meeting and it doesn’t mean anything.”
Gretchen observes me. “But?”
“But nothing. There’s no but. I’m going to his office on Monday morning. We’ll discuss whatever work thing he needs to discuss. And then I’ll return to my desk and do my job.”
“And ignore the fact that you want to jump him.”
“And ignore the fact that I want to jump him,” I agree.
She raises her coffee cup. “To compartmentalization.”
“To compartmentalization.”
We clink cups.
My phone screen is still lit on the table between us, and Daniel’s message glows accusingly.
He’s off limits. The worst possible person I could be attracted to. But I still feel his hands on my skin when I close my eyes. Monday morning suddenly feels very far away.
