CHAPTER EIGHT
Ezra
I’d thrownmyself into work and spent the day editing and posting the first-day-of-training video, making endless graphics and templates and schedules, booking advertising, sitting through two tedious meetings that could have been emails, and reviewing a budget report. Half of this stuff wasn’t even my job, but with Leigh off ill, it was easy to convince Adam, who was the third and most junior member of our team, to let me give him a hand getting stuck in.
Technically, as Head of Communications, Social Media, and Marketing, I was the one signing off on content and designing strategies rather than making them. But Adam had only started a few weeks ago, when I’d finally convinced the people holding the purse strings that we needed another member of the marketing team to actually get shit done, and I wasn’t about to let him drown.
Plus I’d discovered I liked making content. It was a fun way to play with things creatively and a nice distraction from my own thoughts.
It was surprising how time-consuming editing video and designing shit was, and when I finally looked up from everything I’d been aiming to get done, it was nearly half five.
I vaguely remembered Adam leaving, saying something like he’d talk to me tomorrow, but I couldn’t be sure when that had been. All I knew was I really shouldn’t be here this late.
Oh well. On the scale of misguided shit I’d done today, this was at the bottom.
There was a knock on the office door and it opened before I had a chance to tell whoever was there to come in. Danny’s head appeared, his mullet wet and slicked back like he hadn’t long gotten out of the shower. Although at some point during the afternoon, I could’ve sworn I’d looked out of my window to see them all playing with water pistols and a hose, so maybe he was still drying off from that.
He grinned victoriously when he saw me and slid through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “Found you!”
“I did tell you where I’d be,” I said, closing my laptop, sitting back in my chair, and spinning slowly around to face him.
“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know where your office was? I’ve never been here before.” He looked around at the space and nodded appraisingly. “It’s kind of boring.”
“It’s an office. They’re not usually that exciting. Although this one is nicer than some of the others I’ve had.” It had nice big windows for a start, which let in plenty of natural light, so I wasn’t constantly battling with headaches from crappy artificial lighting. The furniture was good too, with a solid desk that didn’t feel like it would fall apart if I looked at it wrong and a desk chair that, unusually, offered some kind of spinal support.
There was plenty of space on the walls for pinboards and whiteboards, so we could scribble down ideas and draw terrible diagrams with stick figures.
Overall, for an office, it was a decent space and one I enjoyed working in.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never spent much time in one.” Danny shrugged and took a few steps towards me, trailing his fingers along the edge of Leigh’s desk. “Wasn’t sure you’d still be here to be honest.”
“I’m not supposed to be. I should’ve finished at three.”
“Why are you?”
“Because I got distracted by something.”
He nodded again, but it was more uncertain. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Or, like, I don’t know, someone to go home to? I’m pretty sure half the guys downstairs would tell you they’d get chewed out for being nearly three hours late.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Would they? Or are they simply trying to make excuses for dropping the ball and covering it by blaming someone else?”
“Dunno. Probably the second? I guess… I dunno, I’d be pretty annoyed if I was waiting for someone to come back and they were running late and didn’t tell me. That’s just good manners. But, like, I think most of the guys would actually tell someone. They’re not that dickish. So, yeah, maybe they’d deserve it if they didn’t.”
“Personal responsibility is important,” I said, like I had a fucking leg to stand on.
“I guess. You didn’t answer my question, by the way,” he said as he moved a little closer, leaning on the edge of Adam’s desk, which was the closest to mine.
“No, I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m divorced.”
He winced and shifted slightly. “Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It was a fair question.” I was surprisingly unbothered by it. I wanted him to know I was single, to cancel out any doubt in hismind he might have about getting involved with me. In case that was the hurdle holding him back.
“If it helps, I’m not with anyone either. I’m not divorced, though, just kinda shit at dating.”
“Maybe you’re looking at the wrong people.”
“Maybe. I’m starting to think that.” He licked his lips and glanced down at the floor, and I noticed his hand was gripping the side of the desk so tightly there were patches of white on his knuckles. “Can I ask you something?”
