Page 77 of The Close-Up
I switch my position on Harper’s couch yet again, but I still can’t get comfortable. Every time my brain replays it in my head, I feel that drop in my stomach. My knees go weak. My throat goes dry and I forget what time it is, what day it is, and what exactly I’m supposed to be doing in that moment.
Because all I can focus on is Simon’s hot breath on mine as we inched closer to each other, the hard feel of his body under my hands, the way his mouth felt velvety soft against mine, the Scotch taste of his tongue.
What would have happened had Harper not called me? Would we have just made out in the street and called it a night? Would he have been up for going home together? I would have.
I scoff to myself. All this effort over the past couple of months to keep things professional between us for the sake of work clearly didn’t hold much water once I got a taste of Simon. Such a flimsy excuse that ended up being.
I tug a hand through my hair as more questions swirl in my brain. Is he spending as much time obsessing about our kiss as I am? What the hell is working together going to be like after this? I’m supposed to film him and his family at Napa this weekend.
I slump over, letting out a groan against the couch cushion. My phone beeps with an email alert, so I sit up and check it. It’s a message from Fiona.
Great work on the latest episode! Last week’s video got nearly a million views. I have to say, Naomi, I commend you for the professionalism and maturity you’re showcasing with this project. Not everyone could navigate this series with the creativity and vision you have. I’m beyond impressed.
I grin. I’m kicking ass on this project, and my boss who’s notoriously stingy with compliments has showered me in praise. But then my smile starts to fade. She’s commending me for my professionalism and maturity, but she has no idea just how close I was to setting fire to my professional standards after one kiss with Simon.
I purse my lips, focusing once more on my computer screen and the mountain of unedited footage I’ve yet to finish. Time to get back on track. Yeah, my professionalism excuse was flimsy before, but it won’t be from now on. If I want to continue to excel at my job—if I want to keep impressing my impossible-to-impress boss—things with Simon can’t go any further. That promotion Fiona hinted at would likely disappear if she knew that we were messing around. I’ve spent the last few years establishing myself at Dash. I absolutely will not blow my chance at this career move because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.
I immediately text Simon.
Me: Hey. You busy?
He responds right away.
Simon: Nope, I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?
Me: I just wanted to apologize for last night.
Simon: Why?
Me: Kissing you wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do. I was really upset and feeling kind of vulnerable after everything that happened with Brody. And Landon. I think I got a bit carried away.
Me: Plus, alcohol.
Simon: Ha, right.
Me: I just think we should keep things firmly in the friends/coworkers camp.
I hold my breath as I watch those three gray dots appear on my phone screen.
Simon: Okay :)
I let out a breath. Wow. That was way easier than I thought it would be. I stare at my phone, mystified. There’s something about the pure simplicity in Simon’s response that reads endearingly confident with the tiniest hint of playfulness. Like he’s not one bit worried about what happened between us and what effect it’s going to have on our dynamic. Like he’s one thousand percent certain it’ll all work out just fine.
That realization sends a wave of intrigue that I tuck to the back of my mind so I can focus on the task at hand. We hash out the details for this weekend via text. I’ll drive to Napa early Saturday morning, film footage of Simon with his mom, sister, and grandma, do a few quick interviews with them, then take off. It’ll be a long day, but manageable.
As I dive back into editing, that intrigue lingers. It registers as a tiny ball of excitement in my stomach. I try not to read too much into it. It’s probably just that I’m relieved—and very, very happy—that one kiss with Simon didn’t ruin everything.
We’re back to being friends and colleagues, like before. Everything will be fine.
I was wrong. This is absolutely, positively not fine.
As I put away the camera equipment after I wrap up filming Simon and his family, I take a slow, deep breath and try not to look at him.
He’s just a few feet away on the back deck of Truss winery, sitting at a table with his mom, grandma, and sister. And even though I can only see him from the corner of my eye, I’m an absolute goner.
Thinking that we could stay solidly in the friends and colleagues category after we kissed was a ridiculous and naïve thought, especially after what I’ve witnessed today. Listening to his family tell stories about what an adorable and sweet little kid he was and then to see him as a doting son, grandson, and big brother has shot that theory to hell.
I’ve always known Simon is a hottie, but now I see him as a super-sweet, sensitive mega hottie who helps walk his grandma up and down the stairs because she has a bad knee, who refuses to let his mom pay for anything on their day out, who asks his little sister how her car’s been running since the last time he rotated her tires.
