“No promises,” Sam says, her voice floating down the hall.
Nineteen
Every Monday morning we have a weekly team meeting. It starts at 10a.m.I have done the mature thing and waited until 9:57 to arrive.
Dread is too mild a word for what I’m going through when I round the corner toward DatStrat, clinging to my Krumes box like a life raft. The top of Ben’s head is the first thing that comes into view, his bright red hair leading me to my doom like a beacon. He’s standing beside his desk—hanging around, really—while Martin drums a pencil against the arm of his chair. John hovers besidehim.
Connor is not there.
Is this feeling relief, or despair? I’m glad not to have to face him, but the realization that he’s avoiding me too is a wrench.
“Good morning, Annie,” Ben says when I reach the desks, prompting an instant chorus ofHi Anniesfrom both Martin and John. All three stare at me expectantly. What do they know?
“Everything OK?” I ask, looking from Martin, to John, toBen.
They all hesitate just a beat too long.
John recovers first with an extra cheerful, “Definitely!”
It is clear to me: they know everything. I will never live down my shame.
“Is that box what I think it is?” John asks.
“No,” I deadpan.
“Too late, already saw it,” John says.
“Pleasetell me there’s white chocolate in there,” Martin pleads.
I feign confusion. “Oh shit, youwantedwhite chocolate? I thought you saidnowhite chocolate.”
“I know you’re joking and it’s still not funny,” he says.
“Time to go,” Ben says, marshaling us into order.
I look around. No sign of Connor. Where ishe?
As if he’s heard my thoughts, Ben falls into step beside me and says quietly, “Connor had to talk to Brad. He’ll see us there.”
Whatever. Don’t care!
—
Connor arrives to the stand-up fourteen minutes later. He’s already looking at me when he walks into the room. I can tell he wants my attention, but he can’t get near me. I’m stationed between Martin and John, and there’s actual work to be getting on with; Martin is in the middle of discussing the proposed roadmap for some new dashboard features. The box of cookies sits untouched in the middle of the table.
“How did it go?” Ben asks when Connor takes his seat.
“Later,” is all he says.
I can withstand a split second of eye contact before my stomach flips violently and I’m back to inspecting my nails.
Martin finishes presenting his findings, the guys bat a few questions back and forth, and then the conversation goes dead.
“Annie, I think we should probably address the elephant in the room?” John says a moment later.
I look up. They are all watching me. Oh god, please no. Areweallgoing to discuss me kissing Connor? Speech is totally beyond me. The only confirmation I can give John that I’ve heard them is a strangledhmm?
He looks at me quizzically. “The cookies?”
