Sarah
I swallow down my hurt feelings with half a pill and busy myself with learning in the ins and outs of my job. When Nora stops by to check on me, I have a list of questions that she happily answers. I finish by asking her about Impossible Design, but skip the part where Frank told me I should come. I kind of just want to skip thinking about Frank altogether. For the moment anyway.
She manages to look both excited and annoyed at the same time. “It’s a monthly affair around here. Half contest, half pissing match. There’s a committee that comes up with a list of requirements for a building—the pickier and more difficult the better. The goal is to find the cheapest, most efficient, or most imaginative way to fulfill the requirements in a structure that would meet code and pass inspections. Hence the name, Impossible Design. The winning team gets an extra vacation day. Why?”
I fidget with the stuff on my desk while I search for an answer that doesn’t include Frank. “I heard people talking about it,” I finally say. “And I thought it might be a good way to get to know everyone.”
“Unless you’re an engineer or an architect, it’s a boring couple hours. Although, sometimes the buildings they come up with are impressive.” She shrugs. “But, there’s booze and food. So—” she gestures with her hands as if she’s weighing options “—it’s not a terrible way to spend a Monday evening. Unless you have anything else to do,” she adds with a chuckle and then heads off down the hallway.
An hour passes and the pill has me so blurred around the edges, that my eyes keep slipping closed. The confusion I felt when Frank acted like he’d rather do anything but spend time alone with me has faded, but so has just about everything else, which is the danger of using anxiety medication as a coping mechanism.
I decide to make another coffee run to counteract the effects of the pill.
This is no way to live.
Hiding from what bothers me with the help of the medicine, then forcing myself alert with enough caffeine to keep a bear awake at night.
For as much as I try to look at the bright side of things, even I can admit that what I’m doing isn’t working. I’m far from perfect, but I deserve better than this.
I peer into the workspace and spot Bree engaged in animated conversation with someone whose name I’ve already forgotten. While she’s occupied, I scurry into the breakroom and grab a Styrofoam cup, making a mental note to buy myself a mug worthy of a receptionist who sits at a desk as cool as mine.
When I return to my station, there’s a piece of paper, folded like the notes my friends used to get in middle school, sitting on my keyboard. I sit, brow furrowed, and open the paper to read the careful script inside.
Sarah-
I really like you. Do you like me? Check the box to let me know.
Frank
p.s. – I have to be careful about flirting here at work, and I’m obligated to go to the Impossible Design thing tonight, but I really hope you’ll be there so I can stare at your ass when you’re not looking.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips and I press the note to my chest. Relief filters through my system, also tempered by the pill I took.
That’s the problem with those little blue miracles.
They definitely keep me from feeling overwhelmed by stress and anxiety, but they also keep me from feeling much of anything.
I down my coffee and head to the breakroom for another cup, hopeful that I’ll be out from under the blurry umbrella before I see Frank again. I used to think I was happy to pay the price of not feeling positive emotions as long as I didn’t feel the negative ones, but now, with Frank around, I’m not so sure.
* * *
The energy in the office transforms after five. A few people scurry out, bags on shoulders, a light wave to me on the way, but most people look like they’re staying and are happy to do so.
To my surprise, McDougan & Kent provides alcohol for this event. According to Nora, who unveils the stash like a mother showing off her child, Mike McDougan and Brian Kent believe the relaxed atmosphere helps foster creativity and a feeling of community.
“Although, in my opinion,” Nora says, leaning in to whisper. “It also helps foster an environment ripe for harassment and scandal. I fully recommend you sit back and enjoy the show.” She giggles and I furrow my brow, unsure how to take the comment, then follow her into the office space.
My gaze goes straight to Frank before I see anyone else.
He’s now tieless, his suit jacket nowhere to be seen, the top button of his shirt undone, and the cuffs rolled up his forearms. He runs a hand through his hair as he laughs with Jason. As if he can feel the weight of my stare, his eyes find mine and he waves me over.
“You stayed,” he says, as I arrive beside him.
“Of course. Couldn’t think of a better way to get to know everyone.” I keep a deliberate amount of space between us, a space charged with a life of its own.
Jason’s gaze bounces between Frank and me and he shakes his head. “If this is your attempt at keeping whatever is happening between you quiet, you're going to need to try harder than this.”
Frank steps back, looking purposefully perplexed. “What are you talking about?”
“Nice try, my friend,” Jason says. “But I’m still not buying it. You two are so screwed.” And with that, he saunters away, laughing lightly.
“He’s joking, right?” I ask once we’re alone. All I did was walk up to Frank and make a very bland comment. There’s no way Jason could see anything other than that.
Frank nods. “Definitely joking,” he says, though the sideways glance he throws Jason’s way makes me think he’s not nearly as confident as he seems. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.” Frank folds his arms across his chest and leans in. “But, I should probably go get ready to carry my team to victory.” He lingers in my personal space longer than he should and then finally heads off after Jason, my gaze locked on his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He pours himself a drink, raises the glass my way, and then gives his attention to his team as the festivities begin.
No matter where I stand throughout the evening, I’m aware of Frank, of this energy seething between us. Judging by the looks he sends my way, he’s just as aware of me as I am of him.
The challenge is aptly named. The requirements for the building get rattled off and scrawled across a whiteboard. I stare at the list, dumbfounded. There’s no way all of that can be incorporated into a structure that makes any kind of sense. Ideas bounce through my head, none of which I have enough knowledge about to know if they’d work or not, but they capture my attention and I find a piece of paper and start doodling.
The teams argue and debate over bouts of inspiration and frustration. I watch Frank throughout it all, my attention split between him and the silly drawing in front of me. He’s magnificent.
The light in his eyes when he gets an idea.
The way he paces when he listens to his team.
The cords in his forearm twitching as he finishes his first drink and sets down his glass.
The heat in his gaze when it settles on mine.
If he has to be careful about flirting at work, he’s going to have to stop looking at me like that. There’s no question what he’s thinking. Once, Jason catches him, follows his line of sight to me, and then captures Frank’s attention with a raised brow.
“See what I mean?” Nora appears beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. “They pretend to hate it—” she gestures toward the participants “—but they love it. For people like you and me, it’s less exciting.” She shrugs. “But it’s kind of fun, watching them get all geeked out like this.” The bit of slang sounds strange, coming from her lips.
“It is fun,” I say as I put down my pen and cover my drawing with my hand. The last thing I want is for her to see my ridiculous attempt at Impossible Design and feel like she has to make me feel good about my doodles.
Nora peers into my lap. “What’s this?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I doodle when I’m bored.” I flatten my hand so as to cover up more of the silly building I drew. “Their inspiration inspired me, but I’m no architect.”
Undeterred, Nora lifts my hands and makes a surprised face. “That’s not bad at all. You should show them. They’d rip it to shreds because there’s no way it would meet code, but maybe they’d pay enough attention to stop regurgitating the same ideas all the time and try something new.” Nora laughs at herself and flits away, making a beeline for the alcohol while I shove my drawing into my purse and promise myself never to doodle at work again.
My gaze goes to Frank. Our eyes meet and excitement soars through my veins. He smiles, a private thing meant just for me, and then gives his attention back to Jason.
The night passes and each team presents their design. There’s much debate about the merits and failures of each idea, a good amount of heckling and congratulations, and then, apparently, the evening evolves into a party. Drinks are poured and people pair off into groups and couples. Laughter and conversation fill the space.
I look for Frank, my eyes scouring the room, a small bubble of panic swelling in my chest as I realize he’s nowhere to be found.
“Looking for someone?” The voice comes from behind me and sends a ripple of goosebumps down my spine.
I turn to find Frank standing closer to me than I anticipated. My breath catches. “You,” I manage. “I was looking for you.”
“You found me.” He lifts a bottle of water in the direction of the crowded room. “What did you think of your first day?”
We chat about work. About the evening. About my thoughts on Impossible Design. As generic and boring as we keep the conversation, there’s no way to hide the heat between us.
The lingering glances.
The charged pauses.
It takes conscious effort not to touch him.
Not to lean into him.
To keep it professional.
I take a deliberate step back and angle my body away from his. “This firm seems like an amazing place to work.” I make a sweeping gesture to indicate the space and the people occupying it.
Frank bobs his head. “I’ll be the first to admit that we are so spoiled here. I don’t know if I could handle a typical corporate environment, all stuffy suits and pretense. I’m really happy to work for a firm that fosters creativity and community.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “But all that aside, I’m really sorry about this afternoon with Bree. That woman…”
I hold up my hand. “There’s no need for you to apologize. She seems like one of the special ones.”
Frank cracks the lid off his water bottle. “Oh, she’s special alright.” He leans against the wall. “Any news on your car?” Somehow, he makes the question sound deeply personal.
“They called this afternoon and want me to come in on Saturday.” I explain my new, humble living accommodations and the bus ride into and out of the city.
“I’ll be happy to drive you to the mechanic. I hate the thought of you on a bus.”
“It’s not bad, as long as you don’t mind the smell of old soup.” Frank looks at me like I’m crazy and I wave the statement away. “But if you truly don’t mind, I’d really appreciate having someone there with me. The only thing I know about car repair is that the people who are good at it seem to like to charge women extra when they’re alone.”
“I’ll be happy to be your anti-price-gouging agent.”
Frank gets the address to my hotel and we make plans for Saturday. His proximity has me barely able to think properly and I’ve run out of ways to flirt while not actually flirting. “Well, I should probably go. It’s a long-ass bus ride home for me.”
Frank glances around. “I can drive you.”
And I know without a doubt that I won’t be able to keep my hands off him. If he’s trying to keep things cool here at work, then I need to honor that. Or at least try to. “Thank you,” I say. “But I need to get used to the routes and everything.” It’s a weak excuse, but it’s all I have, and if I don’t leave now, I won’t be strong enough to follow through.
I sling my purse over my shoulder and a thought strikes me. I dig past my folded-up drawing for the note he left at my desk grab a pen. Feeling like a giddy little girl, I make a careful x in the box next to YES, and hand the note to him with an apologetic smile.
I know I’m being a total dork, but hey. He’s the one who wrote the note in the first place.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wilde,” I say as he opens the paper and gives me the goofiest grin I’ve ever seen.
“Have a lovely evening,” he replies, the heat in his gaze juxtaposing the careful neutrality in his words. I nod once and turn around, suddenly aware of the eye-daggers Bree has apparently been lodging in my back. I smile sweetly while she glares at me, then saunter away, pleased with the evening.