This could be fun, what’s the worst that could happen?I mock myself, my train of thought from that fateful afternoon, my uncharacteristically horrible evaluation and decision-making skills.
Last time I trustemotionto make a decision for me. This is a nightmare! Years, more than a decade, building up my reputation, my street cred, if you will, in the biz, only for it to all crumble and fall apart from a single drink after a company outing.
I’ll absolutelydieif anyone else finds out what happened.
I’m close to dying just frommeknowing about it. Not to mention Asher.
Asher.
God.
My head falls to my desktop, and I bang it there a few times, hoping to shake some logic loose. Alas, when it took off Friday, it must’ve packed its shit and hunkered down somewhere. Found a cute VRBO down on the beach and just fucked right off for a staycation. It hasn’t come back yet. Left me just to freak the fuck out by myself the past two days.
Some life companion it’s been.
Maybe logic feels likeyouabandonedit, a condescending voice inside my head says. And actually, I don’t have a comeback to that. Maybe that’s exactly what happened.
I’m reaping what I sowed; made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.
The man in question did try to text me over the weekend. Well, I guess hedidsuccessfully text me. I just didn’t respond.
Sitting back up, my abs twinge, and I’m reminded of how sore they are from how much I laughed the other night. I stretch out my jaw a few times, see if my cheeks have stopped twinging from all that smiling yet. Nope, still tender. It’s a new kind of workout for me, one that feels impressively effective, even days later.
I open my phone, like I don’t remember every single message he sent, scroll through our thread, refresh myself so I can prepare for seeing his face in the imminent future.
Asher
Hey
You good today?
Several hours later:
Ellie please don’t go dark on me, just let me know you woke up
Several more hours later:
Drove by your house. See your car’s moved. Gonna guess you’re alive then.
Me, in panic mode all weekend, worrywart extraordinaire, didn’t so much as thumbs up a single message from him, worried anything I said or did would send the wrong message.
He didn’t send any more after that, thankfully.
My best asset, attribute, and ally—my mind—leaves me high and damn dry.
And that’s how Asher finds me, a bit before nine AM when he strolls just inside my office door—instead of going straight to his morning slot with the other graphic designers—staring at the wall across from my desk, an absolute mess, no clue how to undo the damage I caused the last time we saw each other.
Even more unfortunately for me, my brain seems to have rewired itself over the weekend; with logic out of the picture, it’s just taken it upon itself to install a new system update, some new firmware that has me reacting to him all fucking different than I was when I left this office last week.
And I only know that because there is avisceralresponse to the sight of this man. The cautious crooked smile on his face as he stands there, watching me, gauging my current state. The way my stomach drops, like a heavy stone. How I start feeling my heartbeateverywhere. And most notably, in the way my breath abandons me too, just like logic did. Not sure which one of those I can last longer without.
It feels like I’m seeing him for the first time. However I’ve described him to you before, my new software update tells me I havenotdone him justice.
So allow me to try again.
He looks like he’s of Irish—maybe Scottish—descent? I’ll have to ask him one day.
It’s this perfect combination of rugged and delicate features that makes him beautiful, but manly. He’s almost fully grown out of that boyish charm, and the man underneath is impressive. His not-quite-chiseled-jawline is highlighted by those freaking cheekbones, and those are both offset by his delicious mouth.
