I’m feeling extra gracious by the time I arrive at work, going so far as to get a coffee for Connor to make up for my unexplained grouchiness yesterday. I slide the cup across from my desk to his as he slings his jacket over the back of his chair.
He eyes it with suspicion. “This feels like a trick.”
“I get you a coffee and you automatically assume I’m up to something?”
“Yes,” he says frankly.
“Fine, I’ll give it to Ben then,” I say, reaching for themug.
He swats my hand away and quickly takes a huge gulp. “No way. No take backs.”
A minute later he admits he burned the roof of his mouth, and I laugh.
—
I slowly become aware that Connor is amused by something; the telltale call and response of typing quickly, pause, typing quickly, pause is what gives it away. I watch out of the corner of my eye as his face splits into a big grin, his fingers flying across the keyboard in reply to what he’s seen. It goes back and forth like this for another ten minutes. It’s not one of the guys: their keyboards are mostly silent.
The mystery is solved when, a little later on, I look up and see Carrie walking toward us. She smiles at me, but before I can say anything, turns her attention to Connor. “Ready togo?”
Excuse me. What?
He locks his screen, pushes out from his desk, and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair without so much as a look in my direction.
I watch in openmouthed horror as the two of them walk toward the elevators. The last thing I see before they disappear from view is Carrie playfully squeezing Connor’sarm.
“Interesting,” Ben drawls. I’m not the only one whose attention has been captured by this unusual series of events, it seems.
“What’d I miss?” Martin asks, his head poking up from behind his monitors. Ben just shakes his head likedon’t worryabout it,but then seconds later I hear the clack of his keyboard. Then Martin’s. Then Ben’s.WHAT ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT WITHOUT ME,I want to scream, but don’t. I pretend I don’t notice atall.
—
It takes Connor seventy-two minutes to reappear. I feel both hungry and left out and have spent the last hour letting my rage grow steadily, ready to unleash it on him. I glower at him as he sits back down.
“Nice lunch?”
His whole body stills at my tone. He swivels his head toward me in slow motion.
“It was,” he says.
“Where did you two lovebirdsgo?”
His eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Lovebirds?”
I have nothing to add, so say nothing, opting instead to be very absorbed in the spreadsheet in front ofme.
“We went to Lola’s,” he says eventually.
“You’re only supposed to take an hour for lunch,” I reply, as if it matters, or anyone cares. They don’t.
“Oh my god.” He laughs under his breath.
“What?”
“Are you jealous I went for lunch with your friend?”
My face is on fire. “No.”
“You are,” he says, his tone one of obvious delight. “You’re jealous.”
