“No. It’s not okay. Why would you say that?”
“I’m not saying that. You told me that, remember? On my first day in your office.” He’s a little confused. “It’s fine, Ryan. You don’t have to like me or my dresses. All we need is to work together for a few weeks. And then I go back to my life and you to yours.”
“But I like the way you dress. That day, I meant you could dress more comfortably in our office. We don’t follow any strict dress code. I mean, I noticed you were wearing very high heels, which can’t be comfortable for anyone. And in our office, you can wear sneakers and jeans or shorts, whatever is comfortable for you.”
“Oh! I see.” That’s all I can say as the realization dawns on me. Well, if that’s what he meant, he should’ve said that. How could I know that by ‘more appropriate’, he meant ‘more comfortable’?
I finish my coffee and place my cup on the table between us.
“So,” he says after a few minutes of awkward silence. “I’ve got the keys to your apartment.”
“You went to Hyannis to get the keys?” I ask, shocked and flattered that he would do so much for me. Maybe I was wrong about him.
“No. Of course not,” he says, and I feel my cheeks burning up a little. I’ve done it again. Made a fool of myself. This must be a record of some sort of how many times a person can do something foolish in a day.
“Gabrielle’s sister had a spare key to his apartment,” he continues. “She brought your keys from his apartment to me at the park today. She has a dog, and we meet every weekend at the park, a play date kinda thing for Max.”
“Oh! I see.” I stand up. Guess it’s time to leave his house.
He stands up as well and stretches out his hand. The key is in his palm. I pick it up, and just as I do, my fingers brush against his palm. The skin is soft yet strong. I feel an electric pulse run down my spine. I want the moment to last longer. Maybe forever. My gaze finds its way to his ocean-blue eyes and our eyes lock for a moment as we stand, as if frozen in place. Does his palm contract a little as I withdraw my fingers, or is it just my imagination?
“I… I’ll just grab my clothes and be on my way.” I blurt out, fiddling with the key for want of something better to do.
He clenches his jaw a little. His palm by his side formed into a tight fist. “Unless... unless you wanna stay for breakfast. You can leave after that.”
“Yeah. Makes sense. I can wash my clothes till then, so I can leave in my own clothes.”
“Yeah. Okay. Great. Let’s do that then. The washing machine is right over there,” he says, pointing to a corner.
I put my clothes in while Ryan scrambles some eggs and grills some bread.
“The bread is amazing. Where did you get it?” I ask, as I take the first bite.
“Um… I baked it.”
I almost choke on the bread. “What? You did what?”
I can see him blushing. “I bake a little to calm myself.”
“Ah. So you Knead for Speed?” I exclaim. I give him a slanted look, wondering if he thinks I’m silly for making that joke.
“Yeah,” he smiles. “Or sometimes Ninten-dough.”
We laugh out loud. He’s as bad as me in making such jokes. Am I actually enjoying his company? I shake my head to shake off the thought. I’ll think about it later.
After breakfast, we finally get down to business.
“Look Eva, I want what’s best for my company. I agree with what you said last night… about the games.”
I give him a blank look as I try to recollect what exactly I told him last night. Nothing much comes to mind.
He grins a little. “So, you don’t remember what you said to me last night?”
“A little,” I say, straining my memory. I think I told him I find his games shitty. “You need to find new concepts, y’know.”
He nods. “I also agree with the email you sent. It wasn’t flattering, but it was true. I forwarded it to my team as well.”
“No wonder they were giving me such hateful looks yesterday. Why did you do that?”