Page 20 of Grumpy Orc CEO

I glance at Lucy from across the conference table. She’s deep in concentration, her fingers flying over the keyboard. There’s a determination in her eyes that I can’t help but admire. The urge to break the silence, to connect with her on a personal level, is almost overwhelming, but I remind myself to respect her boundaries.

Finally, she sits back, stretching her arms above her head and letting out a soft sigh. “I think that’s it for tonight,” she says, looking both exhausted and satisfied.

I nod, closing my laptop. “We made good progress,” I agree. “You did an excellent job.”

She offers a tired but genuine smile. “Thanks, Jarvin.”

“Nothing ruins a Friday night more than realizing it’s actually Tuesday,” I say just to see her smile.

She laughs softly, trying to avoid my gaze.

As we gather our things, I feel a familiar internal struggle building. I want to offer something more than just professional praise—some gesture to show I care beyond our work relationship—but I tread carefully.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” I ask casually, trying not to let too much eagerness seep into my voice.

Lucy looks up, her expression softening for a moment before she shakes her head gently. “That’s kind of you, but I’m okay. It’s just a short walk.”

I nod, masking my disappointment with a smile. “Alright then. Drive safely.”

She returns my smile with a polite nod before heading towards the elevator. I watch her go, feeling that familiar tug-of-war inside me—the desire to be closer to her battling against my commitment to respecting her wishes.

Once she’s gone, the office feels even emptier than usual. I sit back down, staring at the documents we’ve been working on but seeing only her face in my mind’s eye.

It’s not easy balancing my feelings for Lucy with my respect for her boundaries. Each interaction feels like walking a fine line, but it’s necessary if there’s any hope of earning her trust.

For now, I focus on what’s within my control: being there when she needs me and giving her space when she doesn’t. The rest will have to unfold in its own time.

With a sigh, I gather my things and head out of the office, hoping tomorrow brings new opportunities for me to get closer to her.

The next morning the office is quiet as I walk over to Lucy’s desk, a small handwritten note in my hand. I place it carefully on her keyboard, making sure it’s the first thing she’ll see when she gets in.

The note is simple but sincere, expressing my appreciation for her hard work and inviting her to grab dinner with me—just to talk outside of work. It’s a stretch but maybe if we were outside of work we could find that rhythm we had in the airport.

I retreat to my office, leaving the door slightly ajar so I can catch a glimpse of her reaction. The minutes tick by slowly until finally, I hear the soft click of her heels approaching.

She sits down and notices the note almost immediately. Her eyes scan the words, and I see a mix of emotions flicker across her face—surprise, curiosity, and something else I can’t quite place.

She reads it again, her green eyes moving slowly over the words. Then, with a deliberate grace that makes my pulse quicken, she folds the note neatly and places it to the side. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in the silence of my office as I wait for her response.

A short while later, there's a knock on my office door, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look up to see Lucy standing there, holding the note in one hand. Her expression is gentle but resolute. She steps inside, her presence filling the room with that familiar warmth I’ve come to crave.

“Jarvin,” she begins, stepping into the room. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s probably best if we just keep things professional. I need this job…” She stops, her words heavy as if she means to say more, but after a moment it's clear, she isn't going to elaborate.

Her words are firm but kind, and they hit me harder than I expected. A pang of disappointment shoots through me, but I force myself to nod in understanding.

“Of course, I totally respect that,” I say, giving her an understanding smile.

Lucy gives me an appreciative smile before turning to leave. As she walks away, I can’t help but feel some regret wash over me. It’s not what I’d hoped for, but I meant what I said—I respect her choice.

Back at my desk, I take a deep breath and refocus on my work. This might not be the outcome I wanted, but maintaining professionalism is crucial. For now, that will have to be enough.

I've never been faced with something, or someone, that has held my interest like Lucy. It’s as if I'm spinning my wheels just hoping to feel a glimmer of that connection.

Respecting her wishes is the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I feel a sense of loss, like something significant has slipped through my fingers.

The memory of our airport encounter flashes through my mind—the laughter, the banter, the brief but intense kiss. It felt like a moment suspended in time, filled with possibilities. But here, in the confines of our professional environment, those possibilities seem more distant than ever.

I let out a frustrated sigh and close my eyes for a moment. Her image is there, vivid and unrelenting. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her camping trip, the soft curve of her smile when she let her guard down—these are details I can’t easily forget.

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