I get a sudden flash of Alex in the morning, dressed in boxers (with a lacrosse stick motif) and an oldHARVARDT-shirt. Glasses on, hair wrecked. The image makes my ears get weirdly hot.
“You ready for lunch?” he asks quietly, as if he really is just asking me if I’m ready for lunch. His expression is warm. After what I admitted to him yesterday, maybe he’s trying to be gentle with me.
I put my computer to sleep, grab my bag, and stand. With a weary sigh, I warn him, “This whole YouTube thing might be an absolute shit show.”
“Knowing us, it will be.” He smiles. But something about it seems kind of sad.
“Alex.” My chin tilts down toward my shoes. “I…”
When I don’t finish, he takes a step forward. “Yeah?” His voice is still soft. Encouraging.
I want to be wrong about you, too.
A more magnanimous person would say it. But if I told him I want to move forward, it would still feel like a betrayal to myself. His employment here is a hump I’m not fully able to get past, and maybe that’s okay, but it’s not right for me to lord it over Alex’s very qualified, hardworking head, either.
“For today, should we just… put everything aside? ForBite the Hand’s sake?”
He gives me another smile and looks out the window, hands in his pockets. “Sure, Casey. If that’s what you want.”
I nod. He nods. I start walking, and he follows.
On our way to the elevator, Alex says, “Hey, Benny.”
Benny holds up a palm, head hung in defeat from all the schedule wrangling he’s had to do this month. “I cannot engage with you today, Alex. I simply cannot.”
I stifle a snort.
Behind the closed doors of the elevator, Alex and I settle against opposite walls. “Sometimes I think Benny’s attitude is a vibe check for the whole company,” he says.
“Bad news for the rest of October,” I joke, tucking my hair behind my ears.
He watches me for a moment in that open, plain-as-day way of his, arms crossed over his chest, head resting against the wall behind him. His eyes flicker across my face, then flash briefly down the length of my body and back up. So fast I might have imagined it.
His lips part. But he must decide against whatever was on the tip of his tongue, because he clamps them back together and gives a tiny shake of his head.
“What?” I ask.
He hesitates. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Alex scrubs a hand over his forehead. “It’s not professional.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do I really need to remind you what you whispered to me in this very elevator on your first day? Besides, if you don’t tell me, my mind’s going to autofill with something far worse.”
Alex laughs and shakes his head. “I was just going to say you look pretty.”
My head perks up like a bird-of-paradise, proud someone noticed my ridiculous preening. “Oh. Thank you.”
I triednotto put on more makeup this morning than I’d do for my normal workday routine, but I couldn’t get the fact that I’d be on camera out of my head every time I looked in the mirror. I picked out an eye-popping outfit, too, praying the bright colors would distract from whatever bland, forgettable nonsense falls out of my mouth. My maxi skirt is pink and pleated, and I’m wearing a lightweight sweater that belonged to my mom. My ears are adorned with big silver stars and my hair’s been semi-blown out.
“Don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll go back to looking like a gremlin.”
Alex shakes his head again, softer this time. Beneath his breath, he says, “You’ll look just as pretty tomorrow as you did the day we met.”
The elevator doors open to the lobby. I hardly notice. Alex’s and my gazes are locked, as if we’re both waiting to see if the other person is going to freak out over what he just said.
“Alex?” comes a deep, hoarse voice from outside the elevator.
