Page 7 of Just Between Us

Chapter Three: Kai

I return to work in the second week of January and Levi is true to his word, helping our team prepare for the meeting with Jones. Marie, Connor, Yasmina, Deji and I sit in a conference room, going over the proposal with Levi. He listens intently, asking all the hard questions that we fumble through.

I try my best not to look at him too long, but he seems to have invaded my mind. Silver light from the windows hits back, a sort of halo forming around him. I have to remind myself that he has a boyfriend. A very hot boyfriend might I add, who could buy my life a million times over.

When the clock strikes five, Levi stands, stretching. “I think you guys are ready. I won’t be involved with this now since Jones will take over but I’m always happy to help if you need me.”

Marie stands, grinning widely. “Thank you so much, Levi. You have no idea what a help you have been. I mean clearing your afternoon for us is huge.”

Levi waves an easy hand. “It’s my pleasure. Seriously, you guys did good work.”

I nod. “Marie is right. Thank you, Levi. Honestly.”

Levi’s eyes meet mine and he smiles. “You’re welcome,” he says with a smile, before turning to the rest of the team. “And as a manager, I think I’m obliged to buy you drinks. So, is anyone up for it?”

Connor rubs his hands together grinning. “How many drinks are we talking about here?”

Levi laughs as Marie rolls her eyes. “As many as you can handle.”

Connor shakes his head. “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that.”

“Seriously, you’ve just let a five-year-old loose in a sweet shop,” I tell Levi.

His eyes fall on me again and his lips quirk up in a smirk. Around me, everyone stands, excited at the prospect of alcohol paid for by our boss as Marie announces we all meet downstairs in ten minutes.

When I slide past Levi, I get a whiff of his scent. He smells exactly like Cole–tobacco and vanilla. I don’t let my eyes drift to him just in case I trip and fall on my ass, embarrassing myself a little more.

We sit in the classic interior of Mulligans. It’s pouring rain outside, and the post-holiday city can only be described as depressing. The Christmas decorations have been carted away, leaving a grey, miserable city outside. Only the drabs of tourists linger in the city, taking advantage of the discounted prices.

Highlights of a rugby game play in the background on the television screen, drowned out by the post-work buzz of young professionals. Both Yaz and Connor have pints of Guinness, Deji drinks whisky on the rocks and Marie and I opt for cider. Levi on the other hand drinks Cognac and I almost want to laugh at that—it’s like he knows.

The conversation veers from personal to professional, everyone taking the opportunity to ask Levi all sorts of questions. Turns out he skipped first and sixth grade because he was too smart before he begged his school to stop bumping him up because he kept getting bullied for being too small. After his Master’s, he hopped from a few jobs before landing at A-EYE.

“Is that how you met your partner?” Yaz asks, tucking her dark hair behind her ear and looking at him through her long eyelashes.

Levi shakes his head. “I met him just before my interview. Kinda like fate.”

“Aww that’s so romantic,” Marie swoons next to Connor.

“Ugh I’m ready to meet the love of my life,” Yaz mutters.

Deji slaps the table, announcing it’s time to head back home. Yaz nods, “Same,” she mutters, probably feeling the Guinness now. They say their goodbyes, leaving together into the unforgiving wind and rain.

“I’ll buy the next round,” Connor announces.

“I’ll help,” Marie says, sliding off her stool.

I open my mouth to protest but they are gone before I can get anything out. I’m slightly buzzed, and Levi is sitting across me, eyes with that constant hint of humour. Dark hair brushes over his eyebrows and suddenly my mouth starts working without my permission.

“You know you smile like you’re in on some kind of joke no one else is in on.”

His eyes widen for a second and I almost panic but then he huffs out a laugh and I feel my shoulders relax. It’s soft. Heat pools at the pit of my stomach and I do my best to douse it by counting the glasses a waiter is holding in his hands.

Six.

“Do I?” he asks. He lifts his glass and takes a sip, eyes still focused on me.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s a little disconcerting. Makes you feel like you have something on your face.”

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