Page 12 of The Boardroom: Kirk
Chapter 9-Marissa
The conversation is drifting back and forth between just about every single thing I could care less about. We’re talking about a fundraiser for new pom-poms, about how Vivian’s haircut is hideous, and complaining about our government teacher for what must be the fourth time this week. I mean, do my friends always think like this too? Do they ever think about anything that matters, anything that moves and thinks and lives outside the doors of this high school? Outside this table?
“So,” I say, filling a silence and taking a chance. “What do you guys think of Kirk Atkins?”
“Who’s that?” Tara asks, and then looks bored before she even finds out the answer.
“Oh,” Ella says, “I cheated off him in math once. Sort of a tallish, skinny, black guy. Glasses. Why do you ask?”
I swallow and look down. “I just sit next to him in Bio. It’s nothing.”
I’m in a fairly good mood this morning as I make my way to work, my gingerbread-flavored coffee warming me up against the damp cold of the city streets. I don’t know what exactly changed, but I think the Christmas mood has finally hit me, and the carols echoing out of the shop windows are beginning to fill me with warmth instead of annoyance. I’m dressed in my favorite winter outfit—a dark burgundy pea coat paired with my cream-colored sweater dress, gray leggings, and high heeled boots. I have that lovely, opening number of a musical kind of optimism about today, and I really hope it’s not misguided.
I get on the elevator and make my way up to the office. As I walk in, I wonder if this place always smells like this…this odd mix of nutmeg, peppermint, and lemon disinfectant, or if it’s a strictly holiday kind of thing.
“Hey,” Sabryna says as I walk in. “You look pretty this morning.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I think the holiday spirit has finally sunk in for me.”
“I’m glad,” Sabryna smiled, continuing to type something into her computer. “Did you find a gift for your Secret Santa person yet? Because I’m having a hell of a time trying to figure out something for mine.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, thinking back to the tiny slip of paper with Kirk’s name on it.
“I don’t know why we even do anything like Secret Santa here. I mean,everyonehere is the person who has everything, you know?”
I laughed. She’d hit the nail on the head. “I know, right?”
I waved goodbye to Sabryna and started to make my way over to my office to make myself a hot cup of tea and to get a head start on paperwork. As relaxed and luxurious as Torver Corporation could be, it really was a lot of work, and I had all sorts of documents to look over before the day was done.
I sat down in my fancy office chair, heated up a cup of English Breakfast, and opened my pen, ready to tackle the massive stack of papers awaiting my feedback. I still wasn’t quite used to the scale and opulence of my office though…it made me feel more like I was the CEO rather than just board member.
I had only gotten through about five papers when I heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said, assuming it was Johnathan here to discuss something with me, but it was Kirk.
Kirk was dressed in a stylish gray and blue argyle sweater and dress pants, and was still wearing his black coat with the collar up around his neck. He looked like one of those good-natured husbands you would see in a Macy’s catalogue…all he needed was a golden retriever and a big pile of presents.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at Kirk as he came in. “Sit down.”
“Hi,” Kirk said, and when we met eyes that familiar magic happened and we both suddenly looked down again, as if in fear of sparking something.
“So, what’s up?” I asked, taking a sip of tea.
“Actually,” Kirk said, and started fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. “I wanted to ask you…or invite you…I mean, god, this is going to sound strange…” He shook his head and began wringing his hands together.
What the hell, was he asking me out? What? Huh?
“Look,” Kirk said. “So, my family is really annoying sometimes, and we have this, um, my mom does this annual potluck thing, and it’s Saturday at six, and there’s a lot of really great food, and we have a cute dog, and my seven-year-old cousin will be there and he can recite all of the world capitals, and—”
“Yes, Kirk?”
“Okay, well, the nice part of this whole thing is I’m inviting you to my annual family Christmas potluck, so we can catch up and stuff, since it’s been ages, you know, but there’s this…well if you go there’s sort of a catch, and…please don’t get mad.”
By god, I have never been so confused, excited, and terrified all at the same time. “And that is…?” I asked cautiously.
Kirk looked down at his feet and smiled in embarrassment, which admittedly, was pretty adorable. “At Thanksgiving, when I was at my parent’s house, I sort of…well…”
I raised an eyebrow.
