At ten minutes before four, I went to grab my bag from his office and found him at his desk, his baby blues swirling. Whatever.
“Are you in a hurry to leave?” His voice was rough, deep like the first time I heard it, but hesitant. He stood and leaned against the door frame with his muscular arms crossed.
I eyed my watch. I had an hour to get back, change, and make it to the restaurant. “Uh, sort of. I have a thing.” Why couldn’t I say work?
“A thing?” he asked, one teeny side of his full lips curling up. Woah. His face transformed into something dangerously good-looking. “What sort of thing?”
“An obligation,” I answered, mirroring his crossed armed stance. His arm muscles bulged, the veins popping out. But I made a Herculean effort to not notice.
“Well, can I take up ten, maybe fifteen, minutes before you leave?” His momentary smile disappeared. His eyes, framed by long dark lashes, searched mine. It was the first sign that he didn't want to kill me.
“I guess. I do have to leave at ten after though.” He nodded, closing the door and moving to sit at his desk. I hesitated, not sure if I should sit at the chair or run out. He must've seen my face because he smiled at me.
“Please, have a seat.”
I was surprised I didn't faint. He’d smiled, first off. He was a damn beautiful specimen. But then he’d used the word, please. I sat, looking at everything but him in the office. He cleared his throat, putting both of his hands on the top of the desk.
I met his gaze and waited.
“I think I owe you an explanation—”
My sassy side emerged without warning. “And an apology. Multiple apologies, actually.”
Oh my god.
I said that.
To him.
I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples as regret flowed through me. All color left my face and pooled onto the floor. I held it together for three days. That was it. I hated my lack of control. “Please tell me I didn't say that out loud.”
“You did,” he said, something like a laugh coming out at the end of it. I opened one eye, peaking at him, and damn near gasped. He was laughing. The asshole, Adonis, Anderson was laughing at me. His entire body chuckled, his face lighting up. What. The. Hell.
He was a different person with the laugh. I stared at him, open mouthed, wide eyed.
His brows came together. “What's wrong?”
“You laughed. You didn'tbarkat me,” I word vomited.
He ran a hand over his jaw, concern and guilt crossing his face. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Look, I shouldn't have said any of that, but I've gotten five hours a sleep the past three nights. You gave me no warning that we would start early, so I still had two weeks left at my other job. When I'm tired, I get word vomit. Terrible, ugly, often embarrassing word vomit.” I stood up, fifty shades of red. “I should go. Hopefully, I'll hear back from my advisor soon.”
“No.” He stood and shook his head at me. “You won't transfer. You'll stay here.”
I sat back down, trying to gage my next move. His chair squeaked with his weight, and he sighed.
“This is awkward. Did my advisor call you? Did you complain about me, so I can't go to another team?” I asked.
“No. No one called. You don't need to transfer. You're doing great work here, and everyone I've talked to has said great things.” He tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting for me to meet his eyes. I took my time, not sure why my heart was beating fast or why I was secretly glad he was saying this. When I met his gaze, his eyes were softer? Kinder? I had no idea. “As far as this being awkward, I do need to apologize.”
I waited, picking at imaginary fuzz on my new shirt.
“Grace.”
Holy balls.
The way he said my name was different. Tender.No.He was still an asshole.
