Laughter breaks out down the stretch of bays, because the drinks areallfree today. The company is treating all the staff to this afternoon out. And since we hired a bus to shuttle everyone to and fro (except me, and a select few others, who signed waivers and swore not to drink), they’re all free to have a little extra fun on the clock today.
We do group outings fairly regularly, at least a couple times a year, if not more. My dad thinks it’s important for the team to bond and to have fun together. This is the first time we’ve come here though.
Asher tries to hold out, but a laugh breaks out of his chest after a minute of watching Chance, who gives zero fucks, ever, hit a ball as hard as he can. Chance runs to the monitor, watching the bird fly into the pigs onscreen, and pumps his fist and cheers loudly when he knocks a few of the logs out of the structure with his golf ball in the virtual Angry Birds game.
“Dude, you missed the shot. You barely even knocked any down,” Asher tells him.
Speaking of Asher…wow. I was not prepared to see what he was hiding underneath those long-sleeved sweaters. Today’s the first time I’ve seen him in short-sleeves, and it’s been an adjustment for my poor brain.
The short-sleeve button down—dark blue with little white anchors on it—shows off the patchwork of mismatched all-black tattoos all over his right forearm, working their way up his biceps, and a few individual ones on his left, too, where I also notice some slight muscle definition on his lean, toned frame. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a thing for tattoos before, unless you’re an Illyrian warrior, but somehow his have been pulling my eyes onto them every time he’s passed me by today.
There’s some sort of dangerous flutter low in my belly and that can’t be good. Indigestion, perhaps? Nerves at having to hit a golf ball in front of all of our employees? I might need to check Google or WebMD, though they’d probably both just tell me I’m dying. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, and I vow to stay on top of the symptom, make sure it doesn’t worsen.
The fact that no one else signed up to be on my team except Asher and Chance? That the various cliques from around the office all chose to hang out together, and not with the boss’s daughter, the top sales guy, and the boss’s right hand’s son? Means a lot more closeness to this man than I feel prepared for after being embarrassingly dazzled by the sight of his arms.
“Pfffft,” Chance waves Asher off. “I smashed it.”
Asher looks over at me out of the sides of his eyes, both of us trying not to laugh at Chance.
Turns out, Asher grew up playing the Angry Birds game, and it was my guilty pleasure once upon a time, too. I used to play the original version, and I wouldn’t let myself go past a level until I got a perfect score, all three stars. I might be a tad obsessive in some areas, but it’s usually in the name of perfection, efficiency, stellar performance. This one was no different.
Chance, however, missed the boat entirely, and thinks any amount of destruction whatsoever equals domination in this game. Noob. We’re gonna demolish him.
“You’re up,” Chance tells Asher. They do a hand-off of the men’s driver and Asher takes the mat. He’s also wearing some sort of khaki pants today, but they look a lot more trendy than I think the word conveys, so I’m probably using the wrong one. He leans over to place the ball, lines up his feet, stretches his arms out, and does a little wiggle to get his placement just right. His concentration is admirable. So is his physique, but we aren’t going there.He’s twenty years old for crying out loud.The thought makes me feel like a perv, some cougar stalking a barely legal young thing through the reeds in the jungle, so I shake it away.
You’re just going through a midlife crisis, David’s words from our breakup come back to haunt me.
Am I the old man in the sports car distracted by the young eye candy? The thought makes me cringe.
Asher’s arms wind back, and he lets her rip. He hits nearly right on the target he was aiming for, and we all watch the screen eagerly to see a single bird take down the entire structure on his first attempt. The score flies higher and higher, numbers ticking by, and Chance punches down in the air, toward the ground in annoyance. “Ah, what the fuck!” It sounds too good-natured to actually be anger from him, but it still makes me laugh.
“'Kay Auntie Ellie, you’re up!” Chance hollers at me, where I’m seated on the couch. I push myself up off of it and think I might notice Asher’s eyes tracing me as I do. I feel the urge to cover my body for a half a moment, then struggle with myself not to. I’m certainly not dressed for the office, but it’s not inappropriate for a day like this. Mid-length shorts, black, a little loose, belted, with a white, three-quarter sleeve faux silk shirt with tiny black hearts, almost like polka dots, tucked in at the waist. I traded my heels for black canvas Toms with the white sole, and while this is a lot more casual—and a lot more revealing than what I’d normally wear around employees—there are plenty of women here from our office wearing less.
Those melted brown eyes heat even further for just a second, before he drags his gaze to Chance instead. “Auntie Ellie?” he questions.
“Yeah, she’s the godmother to mine and my wife’s kids. They call her Auntie Ellie. So we do, too, a lot of the time.”
Asher looks over to me, surprise written along his features. Have I not told him about Chrissy? Seems weird, to spend as much time together as we have in recent weeks, feel like you get to know so much about a person, who they are, but then there’s giant, obvious facts about them you havenoidea about.
I jerk a thumb over in Chance’s direction. “He married my best friend.”
Chance grins as wide as can be. “I did.”
“Knocked her up,” I add.
“I did,” his grin turns even bigger, somehow.
“How many you got?” Asher asks him.
Chance holds up four fingers. “Three boys and one little princess.”
Asher tilts his chin up, jerking it once in response. “Nice. I helped raise my little brothers for a bit, back in Oklahoma. Felt like I had my own sons for a while there. I bet it’s a blast.”
I force my eyes not to bug out at hearing that. I don’t know why I feel like I know so much about this kid, clearly we only know each other in a professional capacity, so why this trading of personal information is a surprise to either of us, I couldn’t tell you. Of course it’s a revelation. Everything about one another is new news.
I wonder how much he isn’t saying about those brothers, that time where he felt he was raising them in Oklahoma. If that’s why he carries a maturity around him that most men a good five or ten years older than him don’t. Or if there’s other reasons for that.
The server comes by to take our order. She’s a cute little thing, amazing legs and a flat stomach I couldn’t get even if I starved myself until we achieved world peace. For some reason, I notice the look she gives Asher, loaded with interest, an unspoken offer. For some other reason, I notice that he ignores her, looks away, turns to me and asks what I want to get.
