Page 26 of Sincerely Yours, Anna Sherwood

‘You won’t get anywhere with that.’

Lloyd plucks my red lanyard out of my hands, which doesn’t exactly relax me. Is that his way of telling me I’m fired?Isthis a nightmare? It must be. Where did he even spring up from? Why ishehere so ridiculously early?

‘This is a visitor’s pass,’ he says. ‘Didn’t you get a proper one last week?’

I shake my head. I think, if I open my mouth, I mightvomit all over his shoes.Visitor’s pass. Of course. I’m not being sent away in disgrace. As I get a grip on my racing heart, I follow Lloyd over to the desk as he chats to the security guard and receptionist, then ushers me over to stand against the wall.

I’m too busy berating myself for being such an idiot that I forget to smile when the receptionist takes my photo, but too afraid of making evenmoreof a scene this morning to ask to do it again. I’ll have to put up with a mug shot on my new lanyard.

‘Michaela didn’t say anything about getting a pass,’ I finally manage to tell Lloyd, who has decided to wait with me. ‘I didn’t really think about it, I guess.’

‘She probably just forgot. Could’ve been worse – what if you’d stayed late, and gotten stuck? I know you were really keen about this internship, but getting locked in and having to sleep at the office? That’s a littletoofar.’

I laugh, and Lloyd smiles broadly. I notice his shoulders relax and wonder if that’s because of me. Like he was worried about my reaction, or something.

‘Nope. Just here so obscenely early that this, apparently, was a sign I should’ve stayed in bed.’

Just then, the receptionist interrupts, handing Lloyd my new pass. ‘Here you go.’

Lloyd looks at the photo, smiling – small andearnest, not like the way he does around the office all the time. He offers it to me. ‘Nice picture.’

The lanyard is blue this time – Arrowmile cobalt – with my name and photo printed on the pass instead ofVISITOR. As I take it, my fingers brush against Lloyd’s, and I shiver at the contact, the heat of his skin – the memory of his hand in mine, and how it felt when he kissed me.

He’s staring at me like he’s thinking the same thing. Both of us hardly daring to breathe, both still holding the pass with my fingers against his. His lips part, like he wants to say something – something part of me wants to hear.

But before he can, I snatch my hand back, the pass with it, and blurt, ‘Thanks, but it’s really not. Look at me – I’m grumpy as anything.’

I hold it up and, to ruin the moment even more, mimic the face I’m pulling in the photo. But Lloyd just cocks his head slightly to one side, mouth tilting up in a lopsided smile that makes my heart lurch.

‘You’re not grumpy,’ he says, and somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s only talking about the picture. ‘Just a little fierce.’

I look at it again, preferring the sight of my own miserable, grainy face to the endearing expression on Lloyd’s face that makes me long to touch himagain – to trace the line of his lips with my thumb, brush his fingers with mine as I draw myself close.

I stare determinedly at the photo, until Lloyd steps backwards, towards the barriers, and says, ‘Shall we go up?’ and the moment is finally broken.

He’s not wrong, though. I do look a little bit fierce in the photo.

I like that.

This time, I get through the barriers no problem.

‘So why are you here obscenely early?’ he asks over his shoulder as I follow him to the lifts.

Mind your own business, Fletcher. What’s it to do with you?

I debate my response for a minute before deciding that if we talk about work, it should stop things getting tense like they did just now. So I admit, ‘I’m having some Excel trouble. Knowing which formula to use and getting them to work properly. Currently my whole spreadsheet is just a bunch of “#VALUE” errors. It’s probably a super-easy fix if you know what you’re looking for, but … I don’t.’

‘Been there.’ Lloyd nods sympathetically, but doesn’t miss a beat before smiling and saying, ‘I can help you out, if you like? I had some stuff I wanted to get through this morning ahead of a few meetings, but it’ll keep.’

‘You’d … do that?’

I’m surprised he’s willing to help me, after I was so difficult about helpinghimjust yesterday when he wanted some info about the Phoebus IV. After I’ve been difficult, full stop. I know we said we’d be polite, but I don’t think I’ve exactly been nice and friendly towards Lloyd so far.

‘Sure. Why not? Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped out an intern. Plus, I do know my way around the sheets.’

He winks, making a big joke of it – then seems to realize what his corny joke is implying, andwhohe’s saying it to. Embarrassment colours his face and his hands start to gesture wildly. I shrink back, feeling like I’ve just been punched in the gut.

‘Spreadsheets.The spreadsheets,’ he amends quickly, but it’s too late.

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