Is he being coy?Are men allowed to be unironically coy?
I shake my head. “Gareth, we worked for the same partner ... we shared an office. That’s not chemistry, that’s geography.”
I watch him swallow as he slowly slides his arms across the table as if I’m expected to hold his hand.
Oh no ... no no no no no no no.
“Um, Gareth . . .”
Momentarily, I think I’m saved by the bell because the music in the restaurant changes as the lights dim. He keeps staring at me, but I start looking around.
Come to think of it, I did notice a sign when we walked in saying something about entertainment, so hopefully this is it.
But Gareth doesn’t seem to notice, because he says, “You don’t have to be nervous. I know you’ve felt something stirring ...”
Only my nausea.Once I actually saw him lift his hand from under the conference table and smell his fingers ...Where were they, Gareth?It’s a question that haunts me.
“Listen—” I rush out, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he locks his eyes with mine and cuts in, “I have a confession to make ...”
Oh god. A panicked laugh leaves me. I’d literally rather hear he has bodies hidden in his basement than what I think he’s about to say.
“You know what ...” I toss out quickly. “Why not keep it to yourself? I think people share too much nowadays, and they say mystery is key.” I hitch my finger over my shoulder. “I’m gonna head to the ladies’.”And actually crawl out of the window.
Who cares if it’s small, I’ll happily break a rib to fit. I start to stand, but Gareth all but lays over the table to grab my hands.
I squeal. “Oh my god.”
He’s looking up at me. It’s disconcerting.
“Did you know that tomorrow two comets will cross, and it’s been four decades since the first time that happened?”
“No,” I eke out, trying to remember a TikTok video I saw at one a.m. about how to break out of someone’s hold ... Ithink it involved a belt, so that’s not really helpful in this moment.Shit.
He clears his throat too loudly, making my brows shoot up. “We’re like those comets ...”
“I didn’t know you forty years ago ...”
He shakes his head. “We’re meant to be. There’s no mystery in how perfect we are together,” he rushes out. “Think about it. I even know how you take your coffee ...”
“You’re in charge of it for the whole office ... You know everyone’s.”
The “Cupid Shuffle” starts playing over the speakers as I tug my hands, unsuccessfully freeing them. What I wouldn’t do to have sweaty hands so they’d just slip right out because, Jesus, he’s really got a grip on me.
His voice grows louder. “I understand you, Rory ... Remember that time I calmed you down after Mr. Baker yelled at you?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “You didn’t calm me down ... He was yelling atyou.”
It’s as if it’s opposite day and he’s hearing nothing of what I’m saying, because he closes his eyes and chuckles, saying my name a few times over.
I look around, hoping someone else is seeing this and will save me. There are tons of women here, I just need one girl’s girl to help me dislodge myself from this nerd. But instead of help, all I get is a disco ball making the room suddenly sparkle.
My head whips around again.What is happening?
A guy I want to call Joe Pesci begins clapping, getting the crowd going. And my face shoots back to Gareth’s, hoping he’s going to release me from this trauma, but he smiles and takes a deep breath, like this is his moment.
No. Don’t say it.
