Rachel was pleased that, along with her black skinny jeans, she’d put on a blue-and-yellow star-print shirt this morning. It would have pained her to comply with one of Donna’s ridiculous diktats accidentally.
Feeling almost traumatised by the office decor, Rachel arrived at her desk and dumped her stuff. Opposite her, Jack was barely visible inside a cloud of balloons. His desk and chair were festooned with them, some tied to his seat and others – presumably those that wouldn’t fit alongside the rest – placed around his computer monitor, weighted down with heavy plastic hearts.
‘Urgh,’ she sighed, searching for his face among what seemed like a hundred inflated orbs. ‘It’s not exactly subtle, is it?’
Jack batted a pink balloon aside and grinned at her. ‘We did this every year in Manchester. I think it’s rather sweet.’
‘You would,’ Rachel grumbled. ‘You’re always voted prom king.’
Something like jealousy squirmed inside her as she surveyed the evidence of his Office Heart-Throb status. No doubt the majority of these balloons were from Kemi’s gang of Jack fans. He looked as if he neither knew nor cared who’d sent them – and also, infuriatingly, as though he wasn’t in the least surprised to have received many more Valentines than anybody else in the room.
‘Do you think it’s safe to approach the kitchen?’ Rachel asked. ‘Or will I be required to recite a sonnet before I’m allowed across the threshold?’
Jack’s smile widened. ‘Couldyou recite a sonnet if someone … I don’t know – say, me – decided to bar your way?’
She glanced at him, managing to look disdainful despite the playful glimmer in his green eyes. ‘Of course I could.’
‘You remember more from our Shakespeare module than I do, then,’ he said with a shrug, referring to a ten-week stint they’d spent studying poetry, plays and performance in their second year of university.
‘That’s hardly surprising,’ Rachel huffed, remembering how reliant he’d been on her research when they were writing their final essays. She stood up, brushing off the memory of his head bent close to hers, poring overThe Tempestat a lamplit table in the library. ‘Do you want anything to drink?’
Jack shook his head, his mouth twitching, teasing her with another smirk. ‘Surely you’re not going to pretend you can’t see those three balloons tied to the back of your chair?’
‘Of course I can see them. I’m doing my best to ignore them.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t have that,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘As your resident man from Mountaintop, I insist that you try a bit harder to participate in today’s carefully planned fun.’
Rachel curled her fingertips, making air quotes at him. ‘“Carefully planned fun”. The clue is in the name. Forced jollity is never actually enjoyable – it’s a law of nature, like gravity. What goes up must come down, and organised merriment is awful.’
Jack laughed and shook his head again. ‘Who pissed on your Coco Pops this morning? Anddon’tchange the subject. Don’t make me stand in the kitchen doorway and demand to be paid for passage in poetry, Ryan. Open the bloody cards.’
Calling her by her surname was a clear manipulation – he was crossing a line and they both knew it. It had always been his way of signalling endearment, oddly laced with a reaffirmation of distance; evidence that she was just another mate, but also proof that she was different from the short-lived ‘girlfriends’ whose surnames he never learned. He hadn’t dared to try it again until now.
At the same time as Rachel’s eyebrows shot up in shock, she felt herself thrill at the sheer cheek of him.
‘Oh,fine,’ she sighed, sitting down dramatically.
The first balloon – a cerise-pink one – was clearly from Greg. The card that came with it read:
Roses are red, hedges are green, you’re DEEPLY sarcastic but still Copy Queen. PS: Yoga again next Thursday – no excuses.
She smiled at it and propped it up against a pile of paperwork.
Rachel’s second balloon was red, with a card that was obviously from Kemi.
Thx for all your support over the past few years with work (also for always getting me home when I’m hammered, ha!). Put a word in for me if you’re still determined not to go for it yourself … YKWIM ;-) xxx
Rachel made a face, then slid the card across her desk until it disappeared beneath a notepad.
Balloon number three was a pale rosy pink. Rachel felt Jack watching her as she fumbled to open the note that was stuck to it. The message was written in graceful, looping handwriting she recognised immediately.
I’m better when I’m (working) with you. Thanks. J x
Colour crept up her neck and into her face. She had no idea what to say – no clue what this evenmeant.
‘Coffee,’ she blurted, shooting up out of her seat. ‘I still need a coffee. Are you sure you don’t want coffee? Tea?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Jack said, a small smile settling on his lips.
