My name has never made my knees weak before. A simple societal salutation has never made my skin tingle, given me goosebumps. I ignore them. Try to imagine what my logical side would do, were it here for me when I need it most. Take a large inhale, and try my best to fake it till I make it.
“Asher, I owe you an apology.”
His brows quirk, eyes narrowing slightly. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I really,really, do. Please, sit down.”
I keep my voice low, not wanting anyone passing by to overhear any of what I’m about to say, and try to pull some responsible thought out of thin air, since I haven’t been able to come up with a single thing all weekend. Luckily, my mouth fills in the gaps my brain left empty.
“I…I have personal policies for a reason. Things that have served me, or the company well, so I don’t stray from them. Asher, I made a mistake on Friday, I was horribly unprofessional, and deviating from my standard operating procedure was a terrible move. There’s a reason I don’t get close with the staff here, that I don’t drink at company outings or parties.”
His face hardens, mouth pursed in annoyance, like it wants to say something, wants to jump in and interrupt, but the rest of his head won’t let it, not until I’m done, and I continue before he changes his mind.
“It compromises my authority, changes the way people see me, and I’ve worked really, really hard to get the track record and what respect I do have here. I clearly didnothandle the alcohol well, and while I appreciate you being a gentleman and getting me home, that entire escapade should not have happened in the first place, and I apologize for that.”
He blows out an exasperated breath. “Ellie, please stop apologizing. I had a great time. You did, too, if you’d let yourself remember that. Stop beating yourself up for being human and enjoying yourself a little.”
I shake my head the tiniest bit, rejecting the thought politely, not letting myself go there.
“So you didn’t have fun?” He asks, one brow raised. “You’re saying you didn’t have a good time?”
I turn my head to one side, unable to answer that honestly and still make my point. “I won’t put you in that position again. However I acted while drinking…I’m very sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You’re an apprentice here, you’re so,soyoung, and it was extremely unprofessional, irresponsible, improper, and unbecoming of me to put you in the situations I did. So, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s bullshit.” His tone is harder than I’ve heard it, and I bristle.
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, there was nothing irresponsible, improper or unbecoming about what you did, and no one expects you to be professional twenty-four-seven. We were off the clock, Ellie. We were there asfriends.”
Something swoops low in my belly at the intention in his face, his voice. This simultaneous feeling of my stomach falling, dipping, while also rising, floating at the way he hasn’t backed down, only stepped closer, his body close enough to touch, if only I reached out the tiniest bit.
My eyes trail down his frame, snagging on his abs, his chest, beneath that merlot sweater, recalling the way I clutched onto him there when he caught me the other night. I don’t want him to catch me now. I don’t want to be falling away from my comfort zone. I fight to stay where I am, where I’ve always been safe.
“No, Asher. That’s where I went wrong. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t make friends with the staff. I don’t hang out with the team.”
He stares at me pointedly, calling me out silently for a beat before he says, “I’m not even a real employee, Ell, I’m only here for another month or two, even if I bought into your excuse.”
I straighten my spine, infuse steel resolve into my voice, try to pretend his casual use of that nickname for me didn’t melt my insides, turn my knees to jelly. “It shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t occur again. I’m course correcting.”
His eyes flare, that jaw tightens, sharpening. “You’re telling me we can’t be friends? That’s horseshit.” His voice is quiet, still respectful; not threatening, but it’s piercing. He’s calling me on it and making sure I don’t mistake it.
Something inside me shrivels at the confrontation. “Please, don’t make this any more awkward than it already is. I said…and did…so much that I shouldn’t have. Just, please, let me keep this professional between us.”
He raises a brow, unimpressed, so I keep selling him, begging him to let me keep the tiny shards of dignity that remain intact. I switch strategies. Self-deprecation, my old friend. “You have your own life, your own friends. You don’t need an old maid among the ranks to drag you down.”
His eyes narrow, not missing the way I put myself down. “What if Iwantyou as a friend?” Something warms in his eyes, flaring, and I think it’s him embarking on a challenge.
I toss my hands up between us, frustrated. “Let’s not pretend like that pity invite was anything more than it was, okay? We both know I’ve had a rough couple of months, and I appreciate you giving me a break for the night, but there’s a big difference between your life and mine. Let’s not confuse the working relationship we have here by blurring those lines.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me as a friend, Ellie?” He licks his lips, which distracts my eye, and a little smirk lifts one side of his mouth.
“Okay, I was hoping not to have to say this part out loud, but I’m going to. Please don’t make this more uncomfortable for me, okay?” I take a deep breath, imagine it’s giving me more bravery than I feel in this moment. “Whatever…happened in the hallway—” That flare in his eyes again, and my eyes are pulled to his hand, clenching at his side, like he’s forcing himself to keep it still, and my rambling can’t be stopped, my hands are wheeling, teetering in explanation along with my mouth. “It shouldn’t have happened and now I’ve given you the wrong impression and I don’t want to mislead you, but now there’s this flirtation there and I fear you’re just seeing me in this light because of how I behaved that night, which never should have—”
“That’s theonlylight I’ve ever seen you in.”
Oh.
Oh.
