Page 9 of Playing Flirty

“But it doesn’t make sense,” I said, embarrassed for wasting his time by thinking I had something. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to play it. We can play—”

“Can I kiss you?” he said, interrupting me. The exposed parts of his cheeks flushed before he snapped his mouth shut.

I could still remember his quick, short breaths and the way I’d nodded. Before I could find any words, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against mine. I had been kissed before, but no one had ever done it like that. His lips were soft, and I was unbothered by his long gray synthetic beard rubbing against my chin—I was too focused on how electricity seemed to be flowing through my body. The mere memory of that kiss made my heartbeat erratic.

He pulled away and smiled. “Let’s try the game. I already know half the rules.”

He said it so casually—as if I wouldn’t be obsessing about that kiss for the rest of the day. But then he started playing the game—my game—and it evolved in each round.

I jumped out of my mind and lifted the lid of the box to stare at this version of the Board-Game-in-Progress—born through our playing and his suggestions. And with college and work, it was still exactly as it was back then.

What could have been, if I’d been braver—if I’d approached the group of gamers and asked them to play my game?

I didn’t need the distraction or the reminder. There were deadlines I needed to meet, and a less-than-slim chance I’d win that competition, anyway.

I shoved the box underneath my desk.

Opening my laptop, I started on my assignment. In six months, I’d get my MBA and probably get promoted—which meant more money and more stability, both of which I wanted.

Right?

Second-guessing myself was becoming tiring.

Round 4

After a few sleepless nights and a mostly completed assignment, the absolute last thing I wanted was to attend this week’s strategy meeting.

My boss, Jeffrey Markham, the M of M&G, stopped me after the meeting and smiled—the kind of smile that made the food in my stomach want to revisit my mouth.

“Could we have a quick chat in my office?”

I nodded, running through all the reasons he could possibly need to talk to me alone.

Shaun met my gaze, his eyebrows drawn together much like mine were, as I followed Mr. Markham.

A large wooden desk, about three times the size of mine, sat in the center of the room.

“So,” Mr. Markham said and gestured to the two red velvet chairs, “you’re a really great worker, and I am glad to see you on our team. You’re not just a diversity hire.”

I smiled awkwardly, very awkwardly, while taking my seat. “Uh, thank you?”

He turned on his coffee machine and then faced me, leaning forward onto the elbows of his gray jacket, which matched his pressed gray pants. He was above average in height andwidth, with broad shoulders and a puffed-out chest. “The thing is, you are incredibly distracting.” He stared at my chest, and unease settled in my belly.

I was relieved I had thrown a scarf around my neck that morning to hide the somewhat revealing neckline of my blouse.

“Excuse me?” My heart pounded louder than the purr of his coffee machine.

His lingering gaze snapped up. “I mean, chatty. You’re incredibly chatty, and it’s distracting. I’m going to need you to rein it in.”

I rubbed my clammy palms against my skirt and cleared my throat with the intention of telling him I didn’t appreciate his comments. Or telling him I worked more than anyone else in this office. I should have pointed out I was the only one who had almost finished the degree they encouraged us to do. I should have mentioned I arrived in the dark and left hours after it turned dark once again. I should have said all of this, but instead I nodded, ignoring the thickness in my throat.

“I understand,” I said. “Is that all?”

He sat back, and the leather squeaked underneath him. “You’re an attractive young woman. If you keep your head down and work hard, there’s a promotion in your future.”

I was certain my awkward smile had turned into a grimace. I had lost the ability to talk and continued nodding, much to my dismay, until eventually the conversation ended.

When I left his office, I went straight to my desk. My stomach still roiled as I tried to make sense of what’d happened.

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