Page 28 of Devil in the Details
I shook my head and popped the cap, dumping a few little brown pills into my palm. “This is great. You’re a lifesaver.” He smiled at me before it faded just as quickly as it arrived. He turned and walked over toward the bar area in his office. There was a little stainless steel mini fridge, and he opened it and pulled out a bottle of water. He came back to me.
After he opened the cap and handed the bottle to me, I greedily popped the pills into my mouth and took a hearty swallow of the water. I felt droplets slide down my chin and laughed softly as I wiped them away, looking up at him from under my lashes and seeing him watching me. He wore a serious expression and I sobered.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, wondering if he was so serious because I should be more professional, not laugh as water dribbled down my face.
He blinked a few times, his vision seeming to clear as if he’d been focused on something else. “Sorry?” His brows knitted. “What are you sorry for?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling on display for some reason. “I guess for being here? I guess for maybe seeming like this is not very professional of me?”
“Unprofessional?”
I nodded once and licked my lips. “Yeah, as in being in my boss’s office taking his pain relievers and drinking his water asit travels down my chin.” I shrugged, unsure what was going on right now, but there was a certain thickness in the air. It wrapped around me.
It wrapped around us.
He cleared his throat and looked away from me then, staring out the window and lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. I didn’t know if I should leave, say something, or just be totally honest with him. Because if I was being truthful, I was feeling pretty stressed out with my turbulent emotions, knowing that how I felt was not wrong, but inappropriate given our positions. But then again, I’d known that when I got the job. And I accepted it and the position regardless.
“Can I be honest, Olive?”
I straightened at the seriousness of this tone. He turned around and faced me, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression showing no outward emotion. I licked at my lips and nodded. “Of course?” I didn’t know why I’d spoken it like a question, but as I waited for him to say whatever it is he needed to, part of me felt so nervous, so on edge.
He swallowed, and the fact that he looked anxious made me feel even more on edge.
“It’s really hard having you work here.”
His words were like a wrecking ball right into the center of my stomach. I felt the air leave my lungs almost violently, felt my heart plummet to my belly. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t know what to say. I had my hands curled tightly into fists, my nails pricking at my palms painfully. I wouldn’t be surprised if they dug into my flesh, opening up the skin, creating outside wounds that matched my inside.
“Do you understand what I mean?”
I nodded then shook my head. No, I didn’t know what he meant, other than maybe he didn’t like having me work herebecause it was awkward and uncomfortable for him. Maybe he didn’t like my job performance.
“Are you not happy with how I do my job here?” My throat was tight, the words barely able to come out. And I realized this wasn’t just about possibly losing my job for whatever reason, but because the very thought that Pope saw me as weak, unable to pull my own weight… sucked.
He blinked a few times and slowly shook his head. “What? Your job performance?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Olive….” He took a step toward me and rounded the desk until he was just a few feet from me.
I could’ve lifted my hand and reached out, placed my palm flat on his chest, felt his heart beating. I could’ve felt if it was just as fast as mine was right now.
“This has nothing to do with the way you work here, Olive. In fact, you’re an incredible asset to this company… to me.”
A wave of relief filled me, and I felt myself actually sag a little, not realizing I’d been so tense.
“Do you really not understand what I mean? Surely this isn’t one-sided? Surely the way you’ve looked at me, the way I feel that you… feel toward me, it’s not all in my head?” There was this pitch of uneasiness in his voice, this worry.
My heart started racing double-time, the tenseness coming back. Was he actually saying what I thought he was saying?
He took another step toward me and I felt his body heat slam into me, smelled his cologne, felt myself getting drunk off of it. “Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me so I know I’m not losing my mind.”
This was insane. I was crazy for thinking this, allowing it to continue. I was fucking crossing the line for the words that were about to spill from me. I opened my mouth, unsure how to actually say the words but knowing they’d been on my mindfor so long. They’d been tormenting me, because I wanted to tell him, to come clean.
Then do it. Say it. Tell him.
“Pope.” I said his name softly, maybe too low for him to hear me. But when he made a deep sound in the back of his throat, I knew he’d heard me.
“Yeah, you want this, don’t you? This isn’t just me, Olive, is it?”
I licked my lips and shook my head.
He made another gruff sound.
