Page 8 of Falling for Fury

“Alright, chief, go and do some actual work.” Caleb hops up and pegs the stress ball at my head, turning to leave my office, but not before he shouts his list from earlier.

“Addison, number, one-and-done. Out of the system Karvelas.”

The reminder of Addison is like a slap in the face. My stomach dips, and I lose any control of my productivity. I thought about asking Matt for her number, but that seemed presumptuous and unlikely, considering I don’t actually know Addison, and I probably shouldn’t be curious about someone who is more likely to be the exclusive dating type. Also, explaining to Matt that I wanted her number because I thought she’d be great in the sack was unlikely to go down well.

Thoughts of Addison, my sex drought, anticipation about Caleb’s luck with getting EcoX to finally sign our engagement contract, flood my brain, ruining my focus. The company isn’t doing terribly. In fact, these last six months, we’ve been experiencing a constant growth. Enough so that I was able to hire a few more designers, including Ava. But we can always be doing better. There is always more that can be done. The revenue that would be produced from the contract with EcoX would set us up. The ongoing branding deal, complete overhaul on all their internet accounts, including their website and the first ever agreement within the company for regular Social Media Management, would enable me to move the company closer to the city center, the business district of NYC, then I could drag more interest from bigger companies, as well as hire myself an operations manager that will let me take a step back, start setting up the work-life balance my dad had mastered in his prime. That’s the goal. Get the company set, making money without needing me every day. Then maybe Mom would get off my back about working too hard, and Evie wouldn’t give me shit about never visiting. Hell, I could even look at a second location in Chicago, move closer to home.

That would make Dad proud.

The loop continues, my ever-growing brain-dump notes app and emails sending me into an ADHD tailspin. I pack up my laptop and head to JJ’s, my favourite non-office space, to get work done in.

JJ’s Book & Brew is a bookshop-café located in the heart of Manhattan. Running a marketing and branding agency, with a staff of twenty is hard, but I guess I can’t complain too much. With Caleb as our sales manager, and now Ava being a part-time graphic designer, we have a lot of fun. However, I can never seem to get a good amount of work completed when I go into the office, too many distractions and people talking to me. I end up in meetings, advising staff, putting out fires, being distracted by Caleb and whatever stories he has from his weekend triumphs.

I love JJ’s though. Their coffee is spectacular and there is something peaceful about the books and coffee scene that makes the short commute worth it.

It is also usually where I attempt to pick up. Much to my own shame, but Caleb’s pleasure, it is the I am cultured with many layers to my personality card that I play with women. Successful strike rate so far, but today I am ridding my mind of all women—specifically petite angry blondes—so I can finally finish that website I promised to have done by week’s end.

Focus doesn’t come easy on a good day; I can’t risk delaying this work because of a one-time 90s rom-com-frat-house-meet-cute.

Shake that stupid smile from your face, Noah.

Entering the café, I make an effort of scanning the whole shop, and not just at my eyeline, to perhaps avoid a similar event of ploughing over tiny humans.

The café is narrow with high ceilings, a loft type mezzanine where most of the bookshelves are located, with a few couches gathered around a fire that’s cozy during the winter. I notice my usual table is taken, so I make to find another table that is secluded enough away that I won’t get distracted. Giving the person in my usual seat a simple glance, a quick dip of my stomach, I double take—there is a woman at my usual table.

Small.

With blonde hair.

Oh, get over yourself Noah. You really need to check your head. It can’t be Addison, that would be too weird. I shake my head and curse myself for still thinking about her. Am I really going to get my stomach in a knot every time I see a woman with blonde hair, for Christ’s sake?

I stand awkwardly between my usual table and the doorway, unable to move. I don’t usually have this problem. I am the detached guy swatting advances left, right, and center, except here I am, not able to stop thinking about a woman I met once, under weird circumstances. We didn’t even exchange contact information. Instead of deciding where to sit, I just stand there… staring at the back of a woman like an idiot.

I startle at a tap on my shoulder and turn to find JJ next to me, looking between the blonde woman and me with a curious, almost angry look on his face. “Hey man, sorry, guess I need that caffeine more than I realized,” I say, trying to find anything to distract him from catching me looking like a creep. Caleb was right; I need to sort this out.

“What are you doing?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhhh…”

“Do you know Addison?“ Oh god, it is Addison. What is she doing here, of all places?

Wait, what the fuck? He knows Addison?

“Ahh…” Because apparently, what are words?

“Noah?!” I hear Addison’s question, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to teleport myself out of this situation as soon as fucking possible. She stands from her spot—my spot—and slowly makes her way over to me. “Ummm… what are you doing here?” She looks curious, and then her face changes to something much angrier.

“Are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, love. This is a public place, and I happen to be a regular.” Nice save.

“Uh huh, and you just happen to show up on a workday when I am also here?” She throws an accusatory glance my way as she leans on a hip and crosses her arms, happy with her apparent deduction of my motives. I pull out my business card and hand it to her with a satisfied smirk on my face. I got business cards done when I first started, despite the fact no one uses these anymore, stashing them in my laptop bag has certainly come in handy right now.

“Actually, shortcake, JJ is a client, and I come in for content purposes.” She takes the business card and glares at it. If superpowers were real, I think she’d have burnt holes straight through it with her laser green eyes.

“I set JJ up with the socials, marketing, and website for this public café, and I come here sometimes to get extra work done,” I say cheerfully, tapping my laptop bag, smug as all fuck at the look on her face as she eats her words. I look to JJ then, who is staring between us, and for some reason did not leave as we had our back-and-forth. JJ is about my height, his blonde hair its usual mess, dressed in his usual boots, loose jeans, and plain T. Its lucky he makes a killer coffee and keeps excellent book stock, because his personality certainly isn’t the winner for his customers, not with that permanent frown.

“Trouble you for a coffee?” I ask with a grin, satisfied to have a bit of my normal brain back. He nods and stalks off as I hear a scoff from Addison. I turn to look at her, just in time to catch her eye roll, before she turns and heads back to my table.

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