nepheleai

[nepheleai]

i: “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

She smiles distractedly, waving at her assistant as they pack up to leave for the night. It was a Friday and while everyone else moved with an urgency to start their weekend, she had other reasons to stay late. She taps away at her keyboard, trying to ignore the sound of steady footsteps headed toward her office. She measures her breath and pretends not to be phased by his presence at her open door.

“You’re working late again,” she finally speaks, realizing that he won’t interrupt her work. She looks up from her monitor and he’s got a sly grin on his face.

“Yes, well, my boss would be very upset if I didn’t get these reports in before I left the office,” his hands are full but he manages to pull a manilla folder from under his arm. It’s then that she takes note of the takeout bags he is holding with his other hand. She gestures for him to come closer and he strides forward, handing her the folder. It’s not necessary for her to check his work, he’s always been more than adequate at his job and she trusts him.

“Thank you. I appreciate all the extra time you’re putting in,” she replies with a tilt of her lips before tilting her head at the bag he is holding, “are you headed home now?”  

Suddenly flustered, he flicks his eyes at the ground before looking back up, almost as if he’s composing himself. “No, actually this is for us. We’ve been talking about having dinner together for a while now and you’ve been busy so…” He trails off and lifts the bag up with a shrug, “I thought I’d bring dinner to you.”

His feigned nonchalance is strangely endearing to her. She realizes that he had been steeling himself for rejection. Things between them hadn’t been the same since she had gotten her promotion, which put herself in a position of power over him. They had known each other for years and flirted heavily for a majority of their friendship. But it seemed like the risk of committing an HR violation drove a wedge between their budding relationship.

Rogue thoughts of dominating him float into her mind and she shoos them away. With a flimsy chuckle, she gestures to the seat across from her, “thank you, I actually didn’t realize how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten since noon.”

There is a look of concern that spreads across his face, frowning as he makes room on her cluttered desk. It’s a familiar look that brings back memories of their early years at the company. “I know this isn’t really my place to say it but,” he cuts himself off as he begins unpacking the feast he had brought. Shanghainese food- her favorite. She flashes him a gentle smile, knowing where this was probably going.

“But, you don’t have to work so hard to prove yourself anymore. There are so many people on your team who are willing to take on some of the work,” he grins at her and she can’t help but notice the fluttering in her tummy,  “You’re the boss, y’know?”

“I know…” she pauses, “I just- don’t know…” She can’t eloquently put her feelings into words. What doesn't she know?  How to give up control? How to trust the people around her to do the right thing? She smiles ruefully and shrugs.

As if sensing her discomfort, he returns her smile and shrugs too. “And that’s why you’re moving up in the company and I’ll always be a middle tier grunt worker,” he attempts to set the table so that they are sitting across from each other, the expensive oak desk feels like an ocean dividing them. Picking up her plastic plate and utensils, she walks around the desk and makes herself comfortable in the seat adjacent to his.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing or that you’re bad at your job-” she laughs because they’ve had this conversation many times before. He adjusts to her seat change, tilting his body toward her as he serves her a soup dumpling. “It’s because I refuse to sell my body and soul to corporate America,” he finishes the sentence for her, “and believe me, I’m happy with that.”

“Says the person who stayed just as late as his boss on a Friday night,” she teases before taking a bite of her dumpling.

“What can I say, I had ulterior motives,” his eyes flicker toward hers and there’s a flirtatious glimmer that sets off a warmth in her lower abdomen. It’s familiar and welcome. She crosses her legs unconsciously and the movement causes his gaze to trail her legs. It was a nice feeling- being served, being desired. She lets herself bask in it.

“You know,” she says after a moment of consideration, throwing caution to the wind, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I knew you were going to stop by to drop off the reports. I waited all day for you.”

She doesn’t know why it’s taken her so long to accept his advances. Why she’s deciding to do it now that things are infinitely more complicated than when they were just coworkers- but she just does. His eyes are warm and his smile soft. So similar to the way he used to look when he used to stop by her cubicle with coffee just to check on her. She misses that look. She misses flirting with him in the break room. She misses their lunches. She misses their after-work happy hours. She missed her friend and perhaps she missed her opportunity to make him something more.

It’s as if he can see those thoughts flickering behind her eyes because he leans closer to her and offers his hand before stating firmly, “I’m here.”

Without hesitation, she slips her hand into his warm palm and her pulse begins to race. She looks at their joined hands and attempts to swallow down the knot of anxiety that forms in her throat. This was why she couldn’t accept his feelings. This didn’t feel right. The thought of how much trouble she was going to get into. No romance was worth losing a job she worked so hard for. There were so many people counting on her- she imagined the disappointment in her younger siblings’ faces. The image jars her from her thoughts and with reluctance, she attempts to drag her hand away from his.

As if sensing her reluctance, he shifts his thumb to gently hold her hand in place, allowing her to pull away if she still wanted to. She holds her breath, looking at him in confusion only to realize he is looking down at her hand in his. “Hey boss…” his eyes trail up her torso to meet hers, “I quit.”

Her eyes are wide and she struggles to collect herself. She tries to convince herself that surely he is joking. But his earnest smile and openness in his eyes prove otherwise. He seems … happy. Her mouth opens and shuts as she attempts to form cohesive words.

“You want to quit? What about this j-”

“I don’t need it.” The “it” in question being his job.

“What if-”

“I’ll find another job. I’m fairly likable.” An understatement.

She pauses, thoughts finally catching up to her and she asks a question she already knows the answer to: “for me?”

“Work stopped being fun when I lost you,” it seems like he has more to say so she nods her head encouragingly for him to continue, “I want you back in my life again and I want you to choose this too.” He squeezes her hand ever so gently, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb. Reminding her what this is.

All her life she had known sacrifice. As the eldest daughter, she was expected to pave a perfect path for her siblings. Endless hours working, studying and working more. Pouring and pouring until her cup ran nearly empty. Sacrifice was almost second nature for her. But here he was. So willing to give up his job just to be with her.

The second part of what he said catches up to her belatedly. A choice. He’s offering her a choice. Although he is leaning slightly toward her in anticipation, his body language validates his intentions. With his gentle grip on her hand, he moves with slow and deliberate movements. He is giving her every opportunity to pull away and reject him. To make excuses. To say no. Here he is, risking his feelings, laying out his cards at her feet and with a choice. A choice that she refused to dawdle with any longer.

Finally, she surrenders. She leans forward, eyes fluttering shut as she closes the distance between their lips. She can feel him exhale as she presses closer to him, his lower lip slotting perfectly between hers. He guides her hand, still clasped in his, to his chest so that she can feel his heart thumping under her palm. Letting go of her hand, he trails his hand over the side of her neck to cup the side of her face. His touch feels almost reverent, like he’s trying to memorize the slope of her cheek. She smiles at the thought of that and when she can feel him smile back, she can’t help but let out a soft giggle.

Pulling away slightly to lean his forehead on hers, they both open their eyes and exchange almost identical expressions of mirth. “What are you laughing about, huh?” he questions her with a quirk in his smile.

“I’m just happy,” she responds, dragging her free hand over his torso and behind his neck with the intention of stealing another kiss. She feels him respond with a “me too” against her lips and she decides that is her new favorite thing. This is how she would like to take his words from now on.