Page 106 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

I spend the next few hours buried in numbers and it's actually comforting. Expense reports don't trigger flashbacks. Spreadsheets don't care about my past. There's safety in the monotony of bookkeeping that I've come to appreciate, even though it's so different from my true life's calling.

I pull out my phone and glance at the time: 5:00 PM exactly. But I still have some work to finish that's important, so I send Sean a message.

Me:Working late.

His reply is simple and professional.

Sean:Copy that.

No 'beautiful.' No warmth. Just acknowledgement.

I miss the way he called me beautiful and how it made my heart flutter.

Everything about Sean makes my heart flutter, especially that handsome smirk and the restraint in his eyes when he wants to touch me but waits for permission.

Yet… I was the one who pushed that all away because the stakes felt too high.

After three more hours of work, I'm finally at a good stopping point with my deadline. It's now 8:00 PM, and I send Sean another message.

Me:Heading down in five.

It feels good that I got so much work done, but as I take a moment to stretch my shoulders, that bubble of anxiety begins to expand in my chest again. Time to go home, and there's always a vulnerability with transitions. But…

I glance at the clock again. This late in the evening, Lower Manhattan is pretty dead since it's mostly filled with office buildings and nine to five workers. It's almost a concrete ghost town. There shouldn't be crowds or busy streets, which means less male gazes. That's a small, unexpected relief.

I gather my things, shutting down my computer and tucking my laptop into my large purse. The weather has started to cool since it's nearly fall, so I shrug on a light jacket. My steps toward the elevator are slow as I do my usual scan of my surroundings. The hallway is empty.

I press the elevator button and it's ready for me. The doors slide open with a soft chime. I step inside and hit the button for the lobby. Just as the doors begin to close, a voice calls out.

"Hold up!"

A hand appears between the closing doors, triggering the sensors. The doors slide back open to reveal Josh. He's gulping air and his Chewbacca tie is off-center.

My body tenses automatically, but I manage a small smile as he steps into the elevator beside me. Was he still in the office when I left? I didn't notice him, but he must've been working late too.

"Mind if I ride down with you?" he asks, adjusting his tie.

I glance at the closing doors. I could jam my arm between them and hope I don't get dismembered, but instead, I decide to challenge myself. I hate being alone in elevators with men, butit's only a few minutes. And it's only Josh, who I've known for five months.

I'm going to push through my anxiety. 'Step outside my comfort zone in a controlled way,' as my therapist used to tell me.

"Um, sure," I say, pressing myself against the wall for maximum space.

"Thanks for the staples earlier," he says as the doors fully close. He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. "Saved me from having to use paper clips. Ugh."

"No problem." My voice sounds almost natural, the tension gradually easing from my shoulders as Josh stays far away on the other side of the elevator. I'm glad he's doing that.

"Any fun plans tonight?" he asks, checking his watch. "Shit. I didn't even realize the time. I was supposed to make dinner for my girlfriend. Whoops. Guess I'm bringing home apology flowers."

I give him a tiny smile. "Oh, I'm sure she'll forgive you if you also bring home takeout." I'm surprised at how okay this feels, just two coworkers making casual chit-chat on their way out of the office. Nothing at all to worry about. "No plans for me. Just a quiet night in."

"Sometimes those are the best. Sarah and I used to go out almost every night, but lately we're happier staying in. The restaurants can get so crowded."

I nod, actually enjoying this mundane interaction. I smile softly to myself as the elevator display counts down the floors. Five. Four. Three.

Josh shifts suddenly, moving closer in one big side-step, and something hard presses into my side, just below my ribs.

The change is instant: his posture straightens and his friendly smile hardens into a concrete line. His eyes are no longer those of harmless, goofy Josh from work.

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