What if she reads this and realizes how boring I am?
Why do you care, Eli?
Right, stop it. It’s fine. It’s… I add one more line.
There. Done.
Send.
From: Elijah Hart, Esq. | Hart Law
To: Sapphire Feelgood—Safire & Spark Events
Subject: Re: New Venue Tour
Ms. Feelgood,
I’m sorry to hear that our previous venue has faced such devastation. Please ensure that the deposit we paid is not refunded, and ask them to accept this as a donation toward the refurbishment.
I can confirm my attendance at the visit to the newly proposed venues. Send me all the dates and times, and I will make them work. I have also read your attached proposal for workshop electives, and I am happy for you to proceed with the finer details of these. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you on these.
As a side note, Janice is taking an indefinite career break due to her mother’s sudden passing. The family believes she died of a broken heart following her husband’s death.
Therefore, I will remain your point of contact until the event and for follow-up afterward.
I look forward to seeing the new venues.
Regards,
Elijah Hart, Esq. | Hart Law
There are two little white lies in my reply. First, I haven’t read the attached document because we’ve discussed in detail via email the suitable workshops for staff to choose before the event, and instructed Sapphire to stick to those. I thought “cybersecurity basics” was an excellent choice and not overdone, as Sapphire claimed, and people will appreciate the reminder, I’m sure of it. Second, I’m not eager to visit the venues: a venue is a venue; how different can they be? However, I am eager to see Sapphire.
I’m even excited. I might bring donuts because I know they are her favorite.
“That’s a stupid idea,” I mutter to myself, annoyed for even giving that idea airtime. I bet she hasn’t even thought about me at all. But weeks later, I’m still here, haunted by everything about her, the donuts she loves, and the lingering smell of her perfume that’s stuck to my nostrils like glue.
The alarm on my laptop reminds me it’s time to check Sapphire’s Instagram, which I now do at the same time every day because I’ve figured out she posts almost daily like clockwork.
I tap open the app icon, then search for Sapphire’s Instagram page and just as I suspected, there’s a new post.
Mild disappointment makes my shoulders slump because it’s a photo of a rainbow today, one of many she posts, instead of a selfie like I had hoped.
I wanted to see how many bracelets and necklaces she is wearing today. Equal amounts of each? Because sometimes she does that.
I scroll down her posts that are brimming with music, fashion, sunsets, sunrises, and all the things she loves. I’ve learned so much about her from her profile. I’ve been tempted on numerous occasions to tell her she shouldn’t give so much of herself away.
For some unfathomable reason, I’m relieved that there are no posts of her with her surfer boyfriend, Kai, confirming what she said was true: he’s an ex.
Fuck knows why he bothers me, but he does.
I continue scrolling to the last selfie Sapphire uploaded and tap it open, being careful not to like it because I don’t follow her.
I’ve turned on stalker mode, which I’m not proud of, but I can’t help myself from snooping.
With two fingers on her photos, I zoom in and find myself smiling and feeling better than I have all day. Her sapphire eyes are so vivid it feels like she’s in the room with me.
“You know, you could ask her out on a date.” Tessa’s voice makes me jump, and I almost drop my cell phone from the shock as she places a cup of coffee on my desk.
