“Maybe you’d wanna play pickleball with me and some of my frat brothers sometime?” Chance had asked him. Fifteen years out of college, and Chance still hangs out with his frat brothers, still the quintessential frat boy himself. Just really, really whipped now. From the bits and pieces of the conversation I’d caught, it sounded like he and Asher agreed to meet up before long and give it a shot.
Way too soon, Shelby is strolling up and down the aisle behind the bays, calling for a five-minute warning for everyone to make their way to the buses down out front.
Chance had dashed out at the first call, so he had time to “take a leak” on the way, he graphically shared with us.
Some foreign part inside of me is dejected at Shelby’s approach.
Asher looks up at me, eyes catching, and something unspoken hangs there. Hesitation. Disappointment. Hope, maybe?
Shelby reaches the final bay, where Asher and I are busy looking at each other, I think each of us wondering if the other is thinking what they’re thinking.
Does this day have to end yet?
She smiles wide as she nears us. “There you are, baby!” She holds her arms out wide, greeting her son. “Did you have fun, AJ?” Her southern accent seems even thicker when she’s talking to her own child for some reason, it’s as sweet as the iced tea she probably makes a mean glass of.
Asher gets this look on his face I’ve only seen with her. It’s kind, definitely kind, but it’s also a little exasperated. Like he loves her but for the love of God, won’t she see him for the man he is, not the boy he was. After a month and a half or so of sharing an office, I feel pretty good in my assessment there.
“Yeah, Mom, this was a super cool day.”
“Goodie! There’s been such good feedback today, Thomas is going to be so happy to hear how much fun everyone had.”
She turns her head, smiling at me, too. “It’s been great. You did amazing pulling this whole thing off,” I tell her.
“Thank you, sweetpea. Okay, y’all better get headed down to the bus now.”
“Actually, I drove myself,” I say.
Asher’s eyes dart to mine, a question there; it’s trying to break free, but he waits to let it.
“That’s right,” Shelby says. “Okay then, see you Monday, Ellie. Have a nice weekend! Don’t linger too long, AJ.”
She strolls away, chasing up any stragglers she finds on her way to the doors.
Still, Asher lingers. Clearly not wanting to follow her, get back on the bus, walk away from the fun we’ve had this afternoon. Being outside the office, able to socialize, not keep the conversations focused on work, clients, campaigns? It’s been…freeing. A bit of a balm for my soul after the last few months, especially recent weeks where the only bright spot in my life has been work, the very occasional date with my bestie. This has given me something else, some much-needed levity. And for as much as Asher and I have gotten along in the office, even our occasional texts after hours, I was still taken aback by how much fun we had together outside of it.
I think I’ve constructed all these mental barriers between us to keep things professional, proper. Employer versus employee. Thirty-something versus barely twenty-something. Taken woman versus single man. Okay, that one has expired since it was first built, but some of that wall still remains.
Today, a lot of those bricks came crumbling down.
I don’t know why I’m still surprised to find out how much we have in common, despite the obvious differences between our generations, our lives. We were just two friends, having a blast, talking smack, shooting the shit, and hitting a ton of balls.
Given the chance? I’m not ready to be done with it yet.
I lick my lips, trying to find a way to make the offer that won’t make me feel weird about it. His eyes track the movement, and he beats me to it.
“I mean, if you’ve got your car here, we could always…stay a bit longer?” He throws it out so casually, he makes it sound likenotthe massive deal that it seems to me.
I never hang out with employees. Never overshare, get casual, get personal with them. But is he really an employee? He’s a short-term apprentice, more like a friend of the family, with how close our parents are. His apprenticeship is almost over, anyhow. Past the halfway point, at least. It feels like a gray-enough area for me to maybe possibly just barely justify this to myself. And if I promise myself that I’ll remain professional?
Who am I kidding. Ialwaysremain professional. That won’t be an issue.
“We could,” I say simply.
“Cool,” is all he says back at first. Then, “Let me go tell them not to wait for me on the bus, then we can grab another bay or go inside and get a bite if you want?”
I nod at him, a small smile stuck to my face as I watch him run down the hall, toward the stairs inside.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. And, strangely—for once—I’m okay with that.
