I think about it so much that I’m no longer thinking about last night or what could have been. In fact, by the time I’m showered, dressed, and on the bus ride home—I can’t think about anything else. My thoughts, ideas, and questions pile on top of one another. And suddenly, I have an entirely new conversation I’d like to have with Bo.
Finance Bo, that is.
Not to be mistaken with a FinanceBro.
God, no.
When I get home, Bo’s on a client call at his desk, swivelling in his chair as he taps the end of a pencil to the far corner of his eyebrow. His long limbs are all spread out as he leans back, nearly capsizing.
I approach his desk, buzzing with energy, dropping my things onto the couch on my way toward him.
He tilts his head curiously at me, agreeing to whatever the other person on the phone is saying with a series of murmuredmm-hmms.“What?” he mouths silently, his giddy smile matching my own.
“I have an idea,” I whisper, hovering above him. “But… I need your help.”
He checks his watch and nods at me, holding out one finger.
When I linger for what feels liketoolong, I begin biting at my thumb nail anxiously. Bo checks his watch again, apologising with an eye roll directed at the phone and awrap it upmotion with a finger pointed at the sky.
The immediate realisation that I’m standing over the guy while he’s working strikes and fills me with embarrassment. I’m acting as if I’m entitled to his time. I’m very muchnotentitled to his time. Especially whenhistime pays the vast majority ofmybills.
“Sorry, never mind. It can wait,” I say, waving my hands and stepping back onto my heel.
He stops me with a firm grasp around my forearm, dropping the pencil onto the floor as he does.
I had only just gotten those thoughts out of my head…
“Hey, Odette? I’m so sorry to interrupt, but my colleague, Fred, just reminded me of a meeting that’s already started without me. So I’ll have to let you go.” He nods, his eyes stuck on his computer screen and his hand still clasped around me.
I take a second to appreciate the veins in his hands. The sheer size of them causes envy on the best of days, but the strength and definition of them isn’t lost on me either. I know it’s ironic, to have some sort of hand fetish. But in my defence, I never even considered hands as anything other than limbs prior to Bo.
And Icouldshrug free of his hold, but I don’t.
“Yep. Yes, of course. I’ll check in then. Best of luck with the move. Okay, yes, bye-bye.” Bo drops his phone on the desk with a careless thud and turns to me, eager-eyed and excitable, before he releases my arm. “What’s happening? What’s this idea?”
I grab a folding chair still left out from the DND game last night and drag it over to his desk. “I want you to help me with money.”
“Seriously?” He grips the arms of the chair as he kicks a leg out. “Hell yeah!”
I laugh, alittleoffended. “I’m notthatbad with money, am I?”
“No. Sorry, just—I’m glad you’d come to me for help. I like that.”
Donotblush.“I want to figure out how to get a business loan. How to make a savings plan and how to really get the ball rolling on my camp. I don’t care if it’ll take me ten years or even more—I just want to start the process now.Tell me what I need to do.”
His smile is warm and slow and thoughtful, creasing lines next to his eyes and eyebrows rising up his forehead. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he nods. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do some math.”
I check in with him at the first hour mark, ensuring that he doesn’t haveactualclients or responsibilities he should be tending to instead. Then, when his phone rings for the second time as I fetch us snacks from the kitchen, I make sure he doesn’t have to answer it. Both times, he dismisses me politely, focusing intently on the spreadsheet he’s crafting.
Three and a half hours later, I have a file labelledWinniFRED McNultyon his desktop, a new monthly budget, a pile of sticky notes with things I need to do before contacting banks, and two different timelines for loan applications—depending on how aggressively I’m willing to save.
It’s a start.
It’s averygood start.
“This is exciting, Win.” Bo shuts his laptop, making his monitor turn off as well.
“I seriously cannot thank you enough,” I say. “This feels like the first time anyone’s taken this idea seriously.”
