“Dylan, this contract needs to be signed and you have to have a form for this. Oh, and where’s my insurance card?”

Dylan pauses his Halo videogame and saunters over to my desk. He signs the document and places it on top of the massive stack. “Your insurance card is in the mail. You should get it by Friday.” He smiles and returns to the couch.

“Okay, um, I’m gonna need help bringing up my office supplies. There’s a lot. I left the boxes with your doorman this morning.” I move to stand in front of him, when I hear his player die in the game. He sneers at me.

“All right.” He gets up and puts on his shoes, then stops suddenly. “Wait a minute. You’re not doing what I think you are, are you?”

“What do you mean?” Stopping near the doorway, I turn to look at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“I don’t want a bunch of your frilly, pink, flowery shit in my apartment.” The nerve of this asshole!

“Rule three, I need my office supplies in order to do my job.” A smug smile graces my face. I hold the front door open for him. This is a non-negotiable issue. My supplies are a necessity to do my job. He’s just going to have to deal with my pink shit.

Dylan runs his hand down his face as he groans. “Shit. Motherfucker, flowery shit.” He places his hands on his hips and then points to my desk. “All that pink shit stays in that corner, princess, no bleeding anywhere else like the kitchen or bathroom, got it?” Dylan sounds so stern. It’s kind of turning me on.

“I just had my period, so we’re good.” Internally I high five myself for making him uncomfortable. I think I’m going to like this job after all.

“God, Andy. I do not want to know that crap.” He rubs at his temples. “We are not girlfriends watching Golden Girls while putting oatmeal face masks on. This is business and there will be no talk about that . . . at all, EVER.” I smile and open the door for him. He stalks over and points in my face like he’s about to say something and then resigns to the elevator. Team Pink: two, Smashing Pumpkins Loser: zero.

We finally get down to business after moving in all my supplies. Dylan’s still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt. This will definitely be a different work environment. I have to say he looks just as sexy filling out those dumb band shirts as he does a dress shirt. I mean if I’m stuck with him day in and day out, I can at least appreciate the view. After I have everything in order and where I want it, I turn to him. He’s sitting on the couch playing video games. I watch for a little while. “Top left,” I say.

“Wha?” The shooter in the videogame takes him out. “Damn it, Andy. I was on a fucking killing spree.” He lobs his controller on the coffee table and gets up. “I’m going to make some calls.” The bearded monster slithers to his natural habitat, his bedroom, and shuts the door. What’s a girl to do when all her work is done? I tap my fingers on the table itching to snag his controller. Fuck it. I’ll shatter his killing spree.

I move to the couch and sit on the black leather. Everything is black in here. I haven’t seen his comforter in his bedroom yet, but I bet that’s black as well. Not that I would ever want to go in there. I grab the controller and hit continue. I wait to join a group and then it’s on like Donkey Kong. By the time Dylan comes out of his room, I’ve obliterated his killing spree and ranked him up.

His phone dangles in his hand to his side. He’s completely speechless. I like this Dylan. I giggle to myself.

“What the hell? You play Halo? Please don’t tell me this was your first time playing.” He collapses on the couch next to me, completely gobsmacked.

“What? Oh yeah, I’ve never played before.” I try and hold in my laughter when I see his jaw drop. “I’m just fucking with you. Halo is my favorite game. Well, besides the old-school games.”

“Old-school games?” He looks from the TV to me. See Neanderthal, there is more to me than meets the eye.

“Yeah, I still have my old N64 and SNES.” He slides down off the couch onto his knees next to me.

“Marry me.” Laughing, I push his shoulder. He falls back on his ass near the coffee table. “How did you get into gaming?” Wow. He actually seems impressed. This is a new turn of events. He’s always quick to pigeon hole me. I’m busting out of this cage.

“I was an only child. My dad gave me video games to keep me preoccupied. It worked.” I rub my stomach because it’s lunchtime and I’m getting hungry. Walking over to his kitchen, I checkout his refrigerator. Typical guy, has nothing in there but cheese and sodas. I turn to look at him but he’s right behind me. It startles me but I don’t let on. “So, what about those free lunches you mentioned?” I give him a big smile and he returns it. I think he’s starting to realize that we have more in common than he originally thought.

“I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.” He grabs the loaf of bread on the counter.

“Okay, I’m not picky. Sounds good. Do you need any help?” I stand next to him.

“The princess is willing to make her own lunch? This I gotta see.” He steps aside and waves his hand. Maybe we haven’t progressed as much as I thought.

“What’s with all this princess crap you dish out on the regular? Is it the clothes I wear or something? I don’t think I give off a superiority vibe.” I make myself comfortable in his kitchen. I pop the bread in his toaster and go to grab the butter out of the fridge. The whole time Dylan just studies me as I work.

“Um, don’t you need a skillet or something?” He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. It’s weird being in his apartment, but I don’t feel nervous or unwelcome, even though he’s giving me shit again.

“No, I’m ravenous. I need this cheese in my belly now.” He squints his eyes, trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. The toast pops out. I slather butter on it. I place some cheese on one side and then pop it in the microwave to melt it a little. When I take it out of the microwave, I lay the other piece of toast on top to make my sandwich. I cut the slice in half and offer him the plate.

“Holy shit. It took you like three minutes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. That must be some kind of record. You’re like a wizard.” He takes a massive bite and moans. I didn’t realize microwaving a sandwich could be seen as magical but I’ll take it.

“I just have my own way of doing things, I guess.” I make my own sandwich. His eyes are glued to my every move, as if I’m some magical unicorn. “It’s not that original. I’m sure lots of college students make grilled cheese like that.” Buttering my toast, I lay the cheese on top.

“It’s not just the way you make your grilled cheese. It’s the way you move in the kitchen. You have these little quirks that I’m sure you’re not even aware of.” He gruffs a little at his comment, like he’s said too much. Dylan attacks his sandwich. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I stare at him, bewildered. He rolls his eyes at me and finishes his bite. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, come on. I want to know what you mean by the way I move around in the kitchen.” I copy his stance and start to eat my grilled cheese. We’re both standing in the kitchen eating sandwiches together. This is cozy.

Dylan sets his plate down since he’s finished and grabs the counter behind him. “You sway and almost dance around the kitchen. That’s the only way I can explain it. The way you pass things from one hand to the other. The way you reach and stretch for things, it’s like a ballet. You put the perfect amount of butter on the toast. You twisted the loaf of bread closed by twirling it in front of you.”

Was he watching me that closely? I guess I don’t think about the way I do things. I just do them. I’ve never thought of myself as graceful. I don’t really know what to say. That was really sweet. I stare at him, not understanding these emotions bubbling up.

“Just forget it. Let’s talk about something else. Do you need any other office supplies?”

Standing there for a minute, I mull over what Dylan just said. It’s a weird comment to make about the way someone moves around the kitchen, who notices that? It may have changed how I see him a little. He seems embarrassed that he spoke about it. I feel we are making progress toward a better working relationship. At least he can say something nice for a change.

Dylan moves over to my desk, looks it over and shakes his head. “It’s all pink. What is it with you and pink? You asked earlier why I call you princess, it’s because of all this.” He waves his hand around my desk.

“What can I say? It makes me happy. I work better when everything looks pretty and is organized.”

“I bet your home is like this too, isn’t it, all pink and frilly?” He chuckles to himself. I don’t really take offense though because it’s true. I take another bite of my sandwich and sit down at my desk. I believe we’re actually taking the time to get to know one another now.

“Well, it was no shocker that your whole apartment is black, Prince of Darkness.” I smile up at him. He looks around as if he didn’t notice that his place is monochrome. His eyes settle on me after a moment and he gives me this look. I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, maybe in a new light. And just like that it’s gone.

“I gotta go run an errand. I’ll be back before five.” He grabs his leather jacket on the way out the door. Huh, I wonder what the hell that was about. I finish my sandwich and continue getting folders together and sorted.

At 4:55, Dylan finally graces me with his presence. There’s a quick, “Hi” and then a “See ya, tomorrow.” I’m almost pushed out the door. That has got to be the weirdest first day of work ever.