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His phone leans against his bathroom mirror as he does up his tie, eyes focused on his reflection. I wonder briefly why his office is more business and less fashion casual like ours is, but he mentioned working in their finance department as middle-management. Maybe the less creatives live by a more formal dress code at Stevenson? Either way, the fact that his eyes aren’t on me means that I can take the time to appreciate Will without him noticing. It means I can drink up how sexy he looks in his suit—equally as sexy as he looked late last night on our call while dressed in a black t-shirt and wet hair straight from the shower right before he went to bed.
Will is all tan skin, perfectly chiseled angles, and dark hair that’s begging to be mussed by strenuous activities I find myself more and more willing to participate in every day—I get to ogle him now without him noticing him. It’s a true blessing.
Over the past week, I’ve grown both devastated and ecstatic because our relationship has moved to the next level of communication. In all honesty, it feels like I’m nevernotin contact with Will—unless either one of us is in a meeting or something, that is. The growing closeness has turned me inside out, making it consistently more and more difficult to maintain a positive outlook on everything. Because where can this relationship go? My crush has evolved into severelike—especially after our sexting session—but I don’t think I’m strong enough right now to let him go in order for me to move on. Which Ihaveto do, right? He so obviously isn’t into me. I mean, he used to mention meeting me in person before, but that’s stopped seeing each other over FaceTime.
He’s lost interest. Or doesn’t find me attractive.
With this thought in my head, I sigh in frustration. Luckily, he takes it as a consequence of the conversation at hand.
“I’m sorry, but I just think this whole thing is crazy,” he tells me, eyes kind.
“You’re telling me this as if I have any say in the decision-making process, Will. I’m barely even allowed to look at the first cost pricing sheets.”They probably would be able to get a discount if my plan were approved,I think. But I can’t cross the line and reveal too much about work. Even if it is Will.
“That’s weird. Isn’t that kind of part of your job?”
I shrug, copying his getting ready routine by leaning my phone against my bathroom mirror on the small counter. Pulling a brush through my hair, I explain, “Not really. I’m more like an assistant, still learning. Pricing is out of my scope for now, though I’d really love to learn more about it eventually.” Is that why I haven’t heard back from Lena? Because my research didn’t pan out? “But it’s fine—they’re teaching me a lot. Also, I looked up some courses at Parsons and found some really cool ones that would help. When I spoke to HR about it, they offered to pay for the summer semester since it covered retail math and other valuable skills that will be helpful for this job. It’s on the weekends so I could?—”
I look down at my phone and catch him smiling fondly at me, the way he does every time I get excited about work. The look in his eyes does something to my heart and suddenly I can’t speak.
After a pause and intense glare, I break the silence. “Stop smiling like that,” I grumble.
“What?” he asks innocently with a shrug. “You’re cute when you’re all excited.”
“That is extremely patronizing of you. I know I’m younger than you, but only by five years or something, and I got a late start here, remember? I’m just starting out, so yeah, I get excited.” I hate the bitterness and bite to my voice, but I can’t help it. The ache in my chest makes it harder to stay positive these days, not to mention the fact that I’ve been professionally ghosted by my boss.
Will’s smile slips a bit, eyes meeting mine with sadness. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was making fun of you or patronizing you or something. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do that knowingly. I hope you know I deeply respect you.” His brow furrows and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.
I sigh, frustrated with myself. “I know.”
And I do, because no one has ever spoken to me like Will has. No one has ever listened to me or taken me seriously or even cared about what I have to say. But Will? Will’s always cared, since that first email where he cautioned me on my email etiquette.
“No, I’m sorry if I made you feel… any sort of way. You had to rebuild yourself, and that isn’t easy to do later on in life. Not like you’re ancient or something—you’re not even in your thirties yet—but I mean, because it doesn’t come easy. And you’re doing such a great job. I had to… readjust my course at your age, too. And it was really difficult. More than I ever expected it to be.”
This is the thing about my relationship with Will: though it’s been amazing to get to know someone on a deeper level, it’s also been hell. I wouldn’t categorize myself as a shut book with anyone, but with Will? I’m a leaked ultra-classified document. I don’t think there’s anything I’ve ever hidden from him, and as far as I know, there’s nothing he’s hidden from me. Weknoweach other.
For example, I know that he loves to eat a bowl of Cocoa Puffs as a midnight snack when his job really gets to him and does so often while on calls with me. I know he also serves it like a serial killer, pouring the milk into the bowl first and the Cocoa Puffs second instead of therightway like a normal person would. I know he works out often and the name of his childhood dog (Neo, becauseThe Matrixwas his favorite movie back then). On nights when it’s raining, I can sense his restlessness when we speak. And I know I can count on him no matter what based on how supportive he’s been during my very rare rants about work. He knows I feel guilty when I do, because I truly am blessed to even have a job—especially in this economy.Especiallyin this industry.
Will is sweet and understanding, really listens when I talk about being at Sartoria (stressful, but exciting), my relationship with my parents (mother, ostracized; father, unknown; siblings, none that I know of; grandmother who practically raised me, dead) and the event that happened a while back, which led to my current financial instability (an ex with an addiction problem who took my Social Security Number on a wild ride without my permission).
Meanwhile, Will seems to have grown up in a normal household—or at least, I assume so. He doesn’t talk about his family much, which makes me think they’re unexciting—and I mean that in a privileged way. When he does share any tidbits, they’re always with a small fond smile on his face. Nothing I’ve heard about his family life suggests him going days on end without adult supervision or a parent with mental health concerns. Other than the brief mentions of his mother’s fantastic cooking and how he tries to go up to Connecticut to visit her as often as possible, he doesn’t say much. Honestly, though, I understand his reticence. Despite having shared deep things about ourselves and speaking nearly twenty-four hours a day, I’m still a stranger from the internet, and stranger danger is a real thing.
“Anyway, today should be interesting,” I say, changing the topic back to work. “Your team is coming in for a meeting and after that email your Chief Merchandising Officer sent last night, I’m sure it’s going to be a blast,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m bummed you’re not coming in, though.”
“Is Lena still giving you a hard time?” His concern is adorable, forcing me to bite down on my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. But I also don’t miss how he ignores my disappointment with his absence from today’s meeting.
“No,” I continue, as if unbothered. “Not since our talk. She’s been great. And I’ve realized that though her delivery sucks, she reallydoeswant me to succeed.”
But then I remember my research and frown, remember how all my hard work has been largely ignored this week and today is the day we should be presenting it to our client.
“Well, if she does anything… You’ll tell me, right?”
I snort. “And what, pray tell, would you be able to do? Ask your boss to talk with her? Or tell Lena to meet you in the parking lot after work? Challenge her to a duel?”
Will’s face falls. “Well, I suppose the higher ups in our company could say something to her about not liking how she treats her employees and, as consequence, not wanting to associate with them. But I… Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t see how I could make that happen, and there’s not much I can do in my position.”
I snort and put the cap back on my lipstick. Phone in hand, I walk into my bedroom, searching my closet for the perfect outfit.
“Stop moving around so much. You’re making me nauseous,” he groans.
