I would never have thought that things could get worse after our disaster of a reunion. Thomas Carver didn’t remember me. But why would he? We’d never spoken. I’d only ever held a conversation with him in my daydreams.

At first, I thought I saw a glimpse of recognition, but it wasn’t to be. The moment passed and Tommy's customary coldness that I would come to know so well returned.

I calmed myself quickly enough. It had been seven years since I’d seen him last, and, to be fair, I looked completely different than I had in high school. My hair stayed baby blonde well into my late teens, and I’d been skinny and shapeless. I clung to my uniform of oversized t-shirts and blue jeans like a child that couldn't bear being away from her worn baby blanket. When I graduated, I still looked like someone’s visiting younger sister or the dull girl next door, one without an ounce of fashion sense.

It was only after high school, during the summer, seemingly overnight, my hair darkened and my chubby cheeks thinned to reveal a hidden bone structure I never knew I had. In comparison, my skinny, block-shaped body developed curves. Granted they weren’t luscious or sumptuous, but I enjoyed the small change. I’d barely recognized myself—so it was ludicrous to think he would. I’d changed even more since Dad had passed, and those changes had only made me look older still.

Even though I’d gotten over the sting of being forgotten, it didn’t take long for things to get worse. Much worse.

I was waiting anxiously next to the coffee maker staring at the clock. I’d already been told off twice for giving him his coffee too cold; I wasn’t about to let it happen again. Though I wished he preferred frappuccinos, iced-coffee or the trendy new cold-brews, it would’ve made my life a little easier, I thought with a smile. I was becoming a master of creating cold coffee!

As soon as it finished, I poured the almost boiling water into his mug and barely let the liquid settle before I picked it up and sprinted out the break room door.

As I was rounding the final corner, Rodney, one of the consulting attorneys in the office, emerged from his cubicle. In a comically awful collision of flailing limbs and near boiling water, we crashed to the floor. Rodney had avoided the scalding coffee and mercifully the accompanying stains but was rubbing his head in confusion.

“Where did you come from?” Rodney asked.

My skin was on fire. I hadn’t avoided the scalding water. Better me than him, I thought though. I didn't need another nemesis in the office. The coffee had spilled all over my blouse and on to my forearms, and my skin was red and starting to sting.

“I'm so sorry,” I said to Rodney.

“Just watch where you are going next time,” he replied with a huff.

Tiff rounded the corner and kindly hid a laugh behind the back of her hand.

“I don’t miss the coffee runs,” she said. “Come on let’s get you cleaned up.”

Rodney faded back into his cubicle, and I shamefully followed a giggling Tiff back to the break room.

Fifteen minutes later, I stood next to Tiff in a spare, green sweater, decorated gleefully with the words, “Have a Very Merry Christmas” and a large sequined Santa hat.

Apparently, she kept a spare holiday sweater in her bottom desk drawer year round. You know, for all those festive emergencies.

We were rinsing out the coffee stain that dominated the whole left side of one of my only white work shirts. What was worse was that my part of my stomach and arm had developed splotchy red burns that smarted every time Tiff’s sweater brushed past it. Still, it was fun to have someone to laugh with. She’d seen the entire episode, and we’d both dissolve into stifled giggles every time we looked at the horrible stain.

“Thank god we’re the same size at least,” Tiff said while I showed her the marks from the burnt part of my arm.

Tommy entered the room, and I wiped the smile from my face as soon as I saw him.

“Glad to know you finally figured out how to make the coffee hot,” he sneered. “But I’m still waiting for an actual cup. Shall I just make it myself? It might be quicker.”

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat. Tommy would fire me for sure if I couldn’t even make a simple cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, I’m on it. It won’t be a moment.”

His eyes bore into mine, communicating his impatience. He dug his hands into his trouser pockets. “Last chance,” he declared before leaving the room.

Tiff rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s always grumpy this time of year, and it's to be expected considering...”

“I don’t know why I keep screwing up. I need to snap out of it,” I interrupted.

Tiff smiled and squeezed my hand. “You finish washing that out while I make the coffee. Just promise me you won’t sprint it to him to again.”

“Promise,” I said with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Tiff. I owe you one.”

This time I managed to get the hot coffee and myself to his office in one piece though when I arrived he wasn’t even there. I left the cup on his desk and returned to work.

When I got back to my desk, overheated in the thick, wool sweater, I found a copy of the company’s dress code still warm from the printer.

Underlined in red pen on the first page it said, “employees shirts must be free of writing or obvious brand names.”

I groaned and crumpled the sheet of paper then lobbed it into the recycling bin. I had to accept that just maybe this job wasn’t going to work out the way I thought it was going to. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him to fire me. I needed the money; I reminded myself.

However, whenever Tommy spoke to me, it was always to make some rude remark about how I’d done something wrong. It didn’t matter that it something so small it barely mattered, like how I’d gotten him blue pens from the stationary cupboard instead of his preferred black ones. It was petty, and I was starting to reach my limit.

I couldn’t understand where the animosity was coming from. All day I ran around the office making coffee and filing papers and answering forwarded calls from the front desk, doing my best to make his work day that little bit easier. Yet each day, the stack of papers Tiff plopped on my desk got higher, and higher and I stayed later and later.

Tommy’s condescension worsened by the day, and my old teenage fantasies shifted from the high school variety of romantic gestures to more violent urges, like him getting hit with a bus or drowning in a pool full of tepid coffee. It was during one of my more satisfying fantasies (that involved a rogue lion making tatters of his fancy suits) that Tommy knocked on the side of the filing cabinet. Its metallic rumble made me jump.

I’d been kneeling to reach the lowest drawer, and my skirt had risen well past my knees exposing a run in my last pair of pantyhose. I quickly bent to pull the skirt back down and caught him looking. I straightened up.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I need you to stay late tonight.”

“Oh, I was hoping I could leave early or at least on time—I promised my sister I’d help her with her project for—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he interrupted. “I told Tiff to put the paperwork on your desk, I need to you to write up those reports before tomorrow, we just got a new case in, and I can’t do it all.”

I glared at him in response, hands on my hips. At this point, I didn’t even care if he fired me for it. “Will I at least be getting overtime?” I demanded.

And then something weird happened; his eyebrows abandoned their constant scowling. His face relaxed and, for the smallest of moments, he looked as if he was about to say something pleasant.

Instead, he lightly tapped the cabinet with a clenched fist, and his eyes flashed playfully.

“We’ll see.”

He turned and left me standing there speechless.

* * *

That night, my neck ached from staring at my computer for so long. I said goodbye to coworker after coworker and watched as the sun set and darkness descended outside. The cleaning staff came in smelling of bleach and wearing vacuum cleaner backpacks. They ignored me, and I continued to whittle away at the pile of work that sat before me.

There was something profoundly unsettling about an empty office building. About being bathed in fluorescent lighting well after the working day was over and the moon has risen. The room felt eerie without the shuffle of papers, ringing telephones, and stifled coughs. I almost missed the echoes of Tiff’s Christmas music wafting in from the front lobby.

All I could still hear now were the low timbers of Tommy’s voice on the telephone through the walls of his office. A part of me reveled in the fact that we were alone, the stupid nervous part of me that was still hung up on a school-girl crush. Despite his mild hostility, I caught myself daydreaming about him, every so often wondering why he’d asked me to stay late, wondering if he would make amends and come out of his office to speak to me.

My nerves escalated every single time he called through on the intercom, but he just wanted a refill of his coffee mug, and each time I brought it to him I waited—almost expected—for something to happen. For him to show his motivations as to why he wanted me there. He stayed behind his desk, not moving, only glaring at me on each occasion I entered his domain.

Deflated and back at my desk I noticed that my phone screen was dominated with missed calls and texts from Liv. I shot her a quick message back telling her I wouldn’t be too long now. At 10:30 pm, as my eyelids were starting to give up the ghost and the last of my energy was waning, I finally closed the last file folder and shut my computer down. I grabbed my coat from my locker in the break room and made for the door.

Enough was enough. Tommy could get his own damn coffee if he wanted to stay here all night!

Outside, it was freezing. The ground had frozen, and my shoes slipped on the pavement. The tall streetlights illuminated the large parking lot. It was empty except for my Jeep near the abandoned middle and his BMW—fresh off the forecourt—in its designated spot near the doors. The air was so cold I could feel it through all my thick layers. Beyond the scope of the lights, blackness extended out in every direction. I stifled a yawn behind a gloved hand and braced myself for the cold drive home.

I was insanely proud of my old blue jeep; I had kept it all through college and put in hours upon hours of work on it with Dad. There was a picture of the two of us hanging from the rearview mirror. It had many dents, and it rattled, but I treasured it the way most people loved a family pet.

However, with the onset of the below freezing temperatures, the engine of my car managed only a raspy squeal when I turned the key in the ignition.

Shit.

My hands had turned numb, but I tried the car a second time. This time the engine only made a slightly stronger choking sound but remained lifeless. I looked at the tall office building just as Tommy exited the large entrance doors. His long, black wool coat was turned up at the collar, and his shoulders hunched in the cold. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and he had a burgundy scarf wrapped around his neck.

In my head, I cursed him for the situation. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I was ready for any excuse to hate him at this point. If it hadn’t been so late, then it wouldn’t be so cold, and the car would have started. He squinted through the wind in my direction. I considered ducking in my seat, but that would have been even more embarrassing if he saw me hiding like a child playing a game. He left the path to his car to walk over to me. I braced myself as he got close and used the crank to roll down the window.

“You forgot to say goodnight.”

“Was I meant to?” I shot back. “I finished my work, as you asked.”

He held up his hands in defense and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you always use that tone with your boss?”

“I—no…” I sputtered wondering how on earth I was going to get out of the hole I’d dug for myself. Before I could I apologize or come up with something that would help me not get fired he indicated to the car.

“Having trouble?” he asked with a half smile. His teeth chattered behind the cloud of his exhale. His arms clamped to his sides, and he looked directly at me, pinning me with his gaze.

I stared back, unable to speak and knowing with each moment that passed it was becoming more and more awkward.

“Well? Your tongue hasn’t frozen has it?”

“I can’t get it to start,” I said finally. I couldn’t’ think of anything else to say.

His cheeks flushed in the winter air. “Let me have a look,” he said.

He motioned for me to get out of the front seat. I stepped out of the car. It was miserably cold, I blew into my hands, but it did little to ease the ache already chilling me to the bone. He passed so close in front of me I could smell him, aftershave and something else—mint maybe?

He reached around the door and confidently popped the hood. I genuinely have no idea what he did to revive the car because the entire time I just watched his tall, muscular body in stunned disbelief. Was he actually doing something nice for me? Part of me wondered if I’d fallen asleep while finishing the reports and was dreaming of this uncharacteristic act of generosity.

Somehow though, not five minutes later, my car roared to life.

“Good as new,” he said, “Well… maybe not new, but it’ll get you home.”

“Thank you,” I said as he climbed out of the driver’s seat.

I went to climb back into the car and escape the brutal wind when his face took on the same expression it had earlier and caused me to stop in my tracks. A softness took over his features and, once again, I felt like he was on the verge of saying something, and waited for his lips to move. I concentrated on them then flicked my gaze to his eyes.

He backed away.

“Night,” he said before turning on his heel and starting back towards his car. “Drive safe.”

When I got home, Liv was already asleep. Her report for school was lying on the kitchen table. I felt a wash of guilt. I thought back to Tommy’s face in the parking lot, his moment of hesitation. What had he been about to say? I shook my head. I was just imagining it. He’d made it very clear since I’d started working at the firm that he wanted nothing to do with me. I was too wrapped up in my own foolish dreams, hoping he would wash away all my teenage regrets and whisk me into his arms.

Even though my eyes sagged with exhaustion and my body felt heavy and sore, it took me hours to find sleep. When I did, I dreamt of my old table in the library—and of all the things Tommy had never said.