Good to know
Also
You should know that I can’t stop thinking about how hot you were when you handed Tony his ass earlier
omg Asher
Good night [moon emoji]
Good night, gorgeous
* * *
Five o’clock ticks by,and with every minute that passes as the two of us sit at our respective desks inside these four walls and wait for the rest of the staff to empty out of the main workspace, let it whittle down to just the two of us left here—her dad took off early for a meeting out of the office—the anticipation grows. I could be imagining it, it’s definitely a first for me, but I don’t think I am; how the air seems to grow thick and heavy, winding itself between us, the only thing separating the two of us.
Impropriety is a flimsy barrier for magnetism like this. I don’t think it’s going to be able to keep me away for much longer, but it’s her one rule so far, so I’m trying. I’ve made it four hours sharing this office with her today, I can make it another few minutes. Busy myself with the design I’ve been working on most of the afternoon. Curl myself over my iPad on the desk, work on getting this sketch just right so I can bring it to life tomorrow. Try not to think about my favorite thing to think about, sitting ten feet to my left.
I must’ve done something decent in a past life, because before I snap and lose all restraint, close the distance between us, she speaks up.
“So,” she says, and my head turns so I can take her in, appreciate her in a way I haven’t let myself all day. My eyes start at the top of her, work their way down, taking in her face, still fresh nearly twelve hours into her day. The way her hair is down and all wavy, like she curled it. My hands itch to run through those waves, tangle in those strands as my lips, tongue and teeth find other parts of her to entangle themselves in.
She’s wearing pants today, not super common for her. She’s usually in dresses. These come up really high on her waist, like right under her chest; do crazy things for her shape. Her curves practically spill out of them, that white shirt with black edges giving her extra sophistication she didn’t really need from the clothing, but it’s working for her. I’ve never met another woman who dresses like her. It’s not quite vintage, but it certainly isn’t from this time, either. She’s like her own time capsule, from some era where elegance and manners haven’t gone extinct.
My eyes finish their journey, soaking in all of her, and find their way back to her face again. When they do, I see that her cheeks have pinked, and she looks almost shy.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I tell her in a quiet voice. She takes in a quick breath, shallow, making her chest inflate for me. My eyes are tempted to wander, but I keep them on my favorite part of her, that face.
“Hi,” she whispers, like she has no clue what to do with a simple compliment. So I decide to give her more of them. Get her used to it. Recalibrate her sensitivity to them.
“You look amazing today. Every day, actually. But, fuck, it’s been so hard not to stare at you every chance I got today.”
Her head tips forward, that blonde hair coming out to hide part of her face from me. That flush spreads to her neck, the top of her chest that I can see above the collar of her shirt, ever the modest one, Ellie.
I pat the top of my desk. “Come here.”
To my surprise, she does. She doesn’t sit directly in front of me, but she comes to the edge of my desk and situates herself on it, seating one leg and most of her body on the desk, one leg stabilizing her on the ground, but close enough to be touched, if we both wanted.
“You gonna show me what you’re planning?” she asks, grinning.
Takes me a second to realize that’s probably why she thought I called her over here, not just to have her as close to me as possible. Soak in her presence. Absorb it, like a contact high. Her scent, her light, her fucking energy is becoming my favorite rush.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Sure.”
I tap around on my iPad, going into an album of some of my favorite work.
“So I’ve been illustrating for ages. As a kid, it was just drawing with pencils and chalks until I got a tablet and could learn digital illustration. Watched a bunch of tutorials, practiced it non-stop once I did.” She nods along, listening like she gives a fuck. That in itself is rare these days. Not scrolling on her phone, texting someone else, or planning out what she’s gonna say about herself next. Looking at me, giving me all that attention at once. I don’t waste it. “Not sure if you know this about me,” I shoot her a glance, not quite nervous, but unsure how she’ll take hearing this. “I actually left home at fourteen.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, surprise written across her features. “Wow,” she says. “I had no idea.”
I shake my head slowly. “Yeah. That’s a whole different tale. But I got onto those sites that connect freelancers with clients, and I started making my own way with graphic design, a little illustration here and there where I could get the work.”
Her eyes widen, impressed. I bring a hand to her knee that’s closest to me, run my palm over it for just a moment. Feel closer to her when I do. Warmer, too.
“Mostly I did boring kind of designs, ones that kept me fed, but didn’t scratch the creative itch I had. So in my own time, I started working on a series that was just for me. Illustrating kind of like panels of a comic, a couple of characters of my own creation, getting to put my own humor into it.”
I show her the album in my iPad, scrolling through a few images for her to see.
“My main character is this anthropomorphic brain, this guy here, and the series follows his thoughts. Most of the illustrations are this kind of darkly sardonic view of the world. Pointing out hypocrisy, how quick people are to judge others for things they probably do themselves. How oblivious we are to our own faults, when we so readily shine a spotlight on others’. Shit like that.”
