Page 22 of Fun Together
“Should I use my company card?”
Or should I head back down the elevator, get in my car, drive to the airport, buy a ticket to Nevada, shave my head, and assume my new life as a mystical desert woman, world renowned for my glass sculpture garden?
Maybe I’m already dead, and this is some kind of purgatory I’ve found myself in.
“Yes, and rush the shipping. I’d like to get this started ASAP.”
I head back to my desk, bewildered at the direction the morning has taken, and see that I have a Slack notification. Normally a message from a coworker first thing on Monday morning would be annoying, but right now it’s such a normal occurrence that I welcome the distraction from this bizarre day. I’m banking on the message being one of two things: someone making three times my salary needs to know why a calendar invite isn’t opening, or someone making twice my salary needs to talk through something out loud before their client meeting.
But it’s neither. I see Eli’s name and feel a fresh new bit of jitters.
Eli: SOS
Faye: What’s wrong?
Eli: Why is the coffee machine mad at me?
Faye: I’m not sure. It’s usually very kind to me.
Eli: It beeped at me and won’t give me coffee.
I spent the drive to work this morning telling myself I could avoid him for a few days, just to give myself time to forget the fact that I accidentally fantasized about him feeling me up in barn while using a company-bought vibrator. Telling myself that the only reason my mind placed him there was because Rett and I were just talking about him.
But there’s no way I can make it through this morning without coffee, so maybe I should go ahead and face the music.
I walkinto the breakroom to see a very confused Eli standing in front of the coffee machine. He’s wearing the exact same outfit that he wore on Friday: plain white T-shirt and a pair of tan utility pants.
He turns around when he hears me enter. “I’m used to an old Mr. Coffee that only works if you hold your mouth just right. This is way too fancy for me.”
I walk over to stand next to him, willing myself not to look at his hands. Specifically, the way he’s rapidly pressing theonbutton with the tip of his middle finger.
“Not sure the, um, tapping technique will work for this particular model.”
He smirks and takes his hand away from the machine. “What technique have you found to work best?”
“Maybe, um, unplugging it and plugging it back in?”
He looks down at me and grins. “Didn’t think of that one.”
I reach behind and remove the plug from the socket. “It’s a tried-and-true method.” I plug it back in and the machine lights up.
“Well, look at that. I’m glad you came.”
Oh, you have no idea. I cough and grab a mug from the shelf. “You want regular drip coffee?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Are you okay? You seem a little flustered.”
The machine buzzes as the coffee fills the cup. “I’m fine. Just had a weird morning.”
“Why has it been weird?”
I peek around to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Remember the . . . package from Friday?”
“Yes. Why are you whispering?”
“Because,” I whisper louder. “It’s much worse than I thought.”
“The vibrator? Seemed like a nice one to me.”
