by Kelly Myers
“I should get back to work,” I say. “Now that you’ve proved your point.”
“Don’t be like that,” he says.
I whirl on him.
“How should I be, Michael?” I ask.
He freezes at my scathing tone, but I can’t help it. I’m mad at him. Yes, I wanted him, but I was prepared to resist my physical urge. He was the one who pulled me into the bathroom.
“Should I just chill out and relax and forget about everything else?” I ask. “Yes, I’m attracted to you, but that doesn’t mean I can just throw away my job.”
“I think you’re once again overreacting,” he says.
I roll my eyes and turn towards the mirror. I swipe at my smudged lipstick with furious hands. My body is still buzzing with leftover satisfaction and adrenaline, but my mind is starting to spiral.
I want to storm out, but I need to finish this. It has to end here.
So, I turn and face him.
“Ok, I think I’m not over-reacting,” I say. “What other valuable thoughts do you have?”
He stares at me, his mouth in a firm line.
“I think you enjoyed that,” he says. “And, I think we should do it again sometime.”
He’s crazy. He is actually insane.
Or he’s just used to getting what he wants. He can’t have me though.
“I disagree,” I say. “This will implode in our faces, and I am not going to repeat this lapse in judgment.”
That hurts him, I can tell by the way he flinches. It pains me as well to call him a lapse in judgement, but maybe I have to hurt him to get him to stop this.
“We don’t have to do it in the office,” he mumbles. “We could be careful.”
For a shameful millisecond, I consider it. I see myself sneaking into his apartment with a hat and sunglasses. I see us sharing secret smiles with each other at work and giggling in bed after a clandestine meeting.
Then I dismiss that fantasy. Because it wouldn’t be real. It would be thrilling because it was risky, but when everything went South (and it would), it would be a disaster.
Most of all, that’s not me. I’m not a reckless girl. I’m not the girl who rushes towards bad decisions with a big smile on her face. And I can’t change. Not even for him.
I stand tall, even though at my full height I barely reach his chest.
“I am not interested in a secret little affair,” I say.
Michael has the decency to look embarrassed.
“I stand by what I said earlier,” I say. “We need to forget this and move forward.”
I reach for the door. My heart starts to race as I fret over running into someone outside.
“I’ll wait five minutes after you leave,” Michael says quietly. “I’ll make sure no one sees us.”
“Thank you,” I say, my hand still on the doorknob.
I don’t have to tell him to keep quiet again. I know he’ll do it.
I just don’t know how I’m going to look him in the face after this.
I’ll have to figure it out later.
I duck into the hallway and find it empty. I heave a giant sigh of relief as I head towards my office.
When I finally reach my desk, I collapse into my chair. I put my head down on my arms, and I didn't look up for a very long time.
13
Michael has made it easy for me.
From the minute I left that bathroom, he has been a true modicum of professionalism.
Two weeks later, and he hasn’t said or done anything out of line. If I had any lingering doubts about the goodness of his character, they’re gone now.
Michael Barnes is a good guy. He’s just not the guy for me.
It shouldn’t make me sad, but it does.
For a whole week, I didn’t even tell my friends about what happened in that bathroom. It was too embarrassing. Plus, it was so wildly out of character that I was sure they would try and have me committed.
Finally, I caved in over our weekly drinks and confessed. Marianne’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Poor Elena had looked like she might faint. Even Beatrice had been too shocked to joke about it for over five minutes.
They all agreed that hooking up in a workplace bathroom was totally out of line. And definitely not something they ever imagined I would do.
“I get that you’re attracted to him,” Elena said. “But is it worth losing your job?”
“I mean, imagine if someone had seen you or him going in or coming out?” Beatrice asked.
I nearly started crying then, and they all comforted and told me it was ok, I was just going to have to be stronger.
I have been strong. I vowed that no matter what, I was not going to put myself in a situation where Michael could possibly kiss me again or even look at me with bedroom eyes.
Luckily, my willpower has not been tested. He hasn’t even so much as hinted at a private meeting between the two of us. We have discussed nothing but work.
At least our hard work is paying off. The Meyer and Blunt Group is happy with our progress so far, and Nick showers us with compliments.
Michael and I are at the top of our game, and one of us will be a shoo-in for the next promotion. As long as no one discovers our missteps before then.
If the secret somehow gets out, I can kiss that promotion goodbye. All my past and present work will be tainted. I know it will.
I glance at my watch. We have another video call with the New York office.
I’m not worried. I’ve been totally dedicated to my work. I focus on it so I don’t have to focus on Michael. And Michael has been steady as a rock. I thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to rely on him, but he’s brought his A game to every meeting.
I push back from my desk and head to the conference room. At least it’s the last meeting of the day. After this, I can head home and try and do one of the assignments I’ve dreamt up to distract me from everything going on at work. Last week, I knit a scarf and binge-watched a drama series. Maybe, I can start quilting tonight.
Michael greets me in the conference room.
“How are you?” he asks.
“I’m well,” I say.
Our conversations have been stilted like this. It’s for the best. I wonder if he ever gets flashbacks to that night in New York or the bathroom. If he does, he never shows it.
We start the video call and it all goes smoothly. I present the hard data and lay out the next steps in the merger process; Michael recaps and charms.
We’ve somehow managed to get it down to an exact science, despite all the lingering awkwardness between the two of us.
Although, Michael doesn’t feel awkward. For all I know, he’s had plenty of secret relations in the office. This could just be another typical month for him.
I for one have never been in such a position, and I never intend to be in it again. So I feel awkward.
Once the meeting is over, I start to gather my notes.
“Good job on that,” Michael says. “They adore you.”
“You as well,” I say. “You’re the one who won over Bridget, she’s so pliable now.”
Michael shrugs.
“Lucas is the real power-player, and he respects you first and foremost,” he says.
He’s right so I just nod and accept the compliment.
Michael leans forward on his elbows and flashes me a grin. My stomach flips. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him look at me like that.
“Zoe, I’m gonna ask you something, and I’m hoping you don’t get mad,” he says.
I already know I’m going to get mad. I can tell by the determined little glint in his eye. This guy does not know when to back down.
“Come have dinner with me,” Michael says.
I drop my notebook. It slides right out of my hands and hits the table with a clunk. Michael just smiles and leans back in his chair.
I nearly get a crick in my neck looking around to make sure no one overheard.
“No one is around,” Micahel says. “I’m
always very careful, I just want to take you out.”
“That’s not a good idea,” I say. “I’ve told you before.”
Michael continues to speak as if he didn’t hear me.
“And I think you want to go out with me,” Michael says. “At least on one date.”
“Michael,” I say.
“There’s this sushi place in River North,” Michael says.
“I don’t like sushi,” I snap.
I actually adore sushi, but it’s the only thing I can think of to get him to stop talking.
Instead, he just laughs.
“Zo, I have definitely seen you eating sushi at lunch,” he says. “In fact, I’ve seen it on more than one occasion.”
I curse my habit of ordering delivery to the office for my midday meal.
“Well, I’m tired of it,” I say. “Can’t handle the stuff anymore.”
Michael narrows his eyes, and I swear, it’s almost predatory. This is a game to him.
“Then there’s this bistro I read about in Lakeview,” Michael says.
“No,” I say. “You know it’s against the rules.”
“Is that what’s holding you back?” Michael asks. “Just the rules?”
I stand up and grab my notebook. I clench my fist around my pen. Why is he so frustrating?
“Yes, I happen to respect the rules,” I say. “And also, I just don’t want to date you. I’m sorry if you find it so impossible to believe, but it’s true.”
“Zo,” he says.
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.
That shuts him up. At last.
For about three seconds. As I head for the door, he opens his mouth again.
“I like you,” he says. “I really do.”
My heart starts racing like I’m a schoolgirl with a crush. I don’t know why it’s such a shock that he likes me. After what he did in the bathroom, it should have been clear that he likes me. In some way. But it feels different hearing him say it out loud with such confidence.
I stand still and look down at him. All of a sudden, I want to cry.
But that’s another one of my rules: Never cry in the office.
“That’s unfortunate,” I say.
I grab the door handle.
“Never talk like this to me again,” I say.
And then I leave him.
14
Beatrice meets me at my Lincoln Park gym for an evening spin class.
I need more than some hobby at home to distract me. I need cardio to banish my stress.
I texted everyone, but I knew Beatrice would be the only one to agree to work out. Marianne says she keeps in shape by dashing from show to show, and Elena, while hard-working in every other area, is notoriously lazy when it comes to exercise.
It’s justified as well. Beatrice is also working in a male-dominated cutthroat career. She more than anyone else can understand the difficulty of the situation I’m in right now.
If only Michael would just give up.
I sit down on the bench in the locker room to tie my sneaker. If he would just give up, then I wouldn’t have to be tempted to say yes.
Because I had been tempted earlier.
I never would have said yes, but for a millisecond, the thought of having dinner with Michael in some cute restaurant in River North had given me a rush of joy.
It was a fantasy. Nothing more.
Michael and I weren’t meant to work in the real world, even if we weren’t co-workers. He was too arrogant and joking. I was too committed to my own ways. He would get tired of me. I would get frustrated with him.
Beatrice appears in the locker room, her arm weighed down by her gym bag.
“Hi,” Beatrice says.
I look up and smile. It’s good to see her friendly face.
She throws her stuff into a locker and starts to change out of her pants and into leggings and a sports bra.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Michael asked me out,” I say. “On a real date.”
Beatrice freezes. She’s got one shoe on and is holding the other in her hand.
“Shit,” she says. “Has he lost his mind?”
“I know,” I say. “He said he really liked me and that we could be ‘careful.’”
Beatrice looks down at me with something similar to pity on her face.
“There’s nothing you guys can do being careful in that kind of game,” she says. “You’d be found out, one way or another.”
“I know,” I say.
This is why I needed Beatrice. She sees the situation for what it is. Elena would have been touched by the romance of it all. Marianne would have told me to screw the rules and do what I wanted.
But Beatrice understands.
She sits down beside me and laces her sneakers. Her fingers fly through the motions as she ties her laces in tight little knots.
When she’s done she reaches up to pull her hair in a ponytail. I adjust my own headband.
“Has anyone ever hooked up or dated in your office before?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “There was a couple that dated a few years ago. They did the whole HR thing and were on different teams, but after a few months, one of them just got another job.”
Beatrice nods.
“It’s crazy to date a co-worker,” she says. “I would never.”
“There were rumours about this other couple,” I say. “It was bad. The guy was technically her superior. Even I heard the gossip. Everyone knew that woman was blacklisted. And the guy’s actions were frowned upon as well. She ended up leaving.”
I hunch my shoulders and frown.
“That won’t be me,” I say. “It can’t be.”
“I know,” Beatrice says.
She looks so sad for me, so I stand up.
“Come on,” I say. “We’ll be late.”
“We’ve got 10 minutes,” Beatrice says.
“Yes, but I like to get the right bikes,” I say.
Beatrice follows me up the steps to the cycle room, and we get our preferred bikes, in the middle at the back.
We climb on and start pedaling slowly as other people trickle in.
“You like him, don’t you?” Beatrice says.
I consider saying no, but what’s the point? Beatrice will see right through the lie.
“Yes,” I say. “But I know it wouldn’t work.”
“I agree,” Beatrice says.
I look over at her. She’s a realist, and that’s why I need her, but it still stings to hear it put with such bluntness.
“You should date someone else,” Beatrice says. “Show yourself and Michael that you are moving in a new direction.”
I grip the handlebars tight.
“That seems a little extreme,” I say. “It’s not like I need to date someone to prove anything.”
Beatrice shrugs and stands up to stretch her legs. She cracks her neck as well.
“Of course you don’t need to,” Beatrice says. “I just think it would be smart.”
I take a sip of water to avoid answering.
“I’m not saying you have to get married,” Beatrice says. “Just put yourself out there. Show Michael it’s no use.”
The thought of Michael seeing me going on a date with someone else and giving up on me makes me more uncomfortable than I care to admit.
Which probably just means that Beatrice is right.
The instructor walks in and turns the music up. I’m relieved. I can delay discussing this for 45 minutes. I’m pretty good at spin class, but Beatrice is better. She played all sorts of sports when she was younger. I work hard, especially since I’m determined to get so tired I can’t even think about the events of this afternoon, but no matter how fast I pedal, Beatrice is always pedaling faster.
When the class ends, I’m dripping with sweat, but I do feel better. More in control. Like maybe I can get through this.
“Ok,” I say as we head back to the locker room. “I’ll put myself back out there.”
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“Jesus, don’t act like you’re going to a war or something,” Beatrice quips. “It’s dating, not the gallows.”
I laugh. I’ve been on enough bad dates to know that dating is a warzone.
“So should I download a dating app again?” I ask.
I hate the meaningless conversations on dating apps, but I have to admit they are efficient.
“No,” Beatrice says. “I’m gonna set you up.”
I recoil. Blind dates are not my favorite thing. There’s way too many variables.
“Trust me, he’s nice,” Beatrice says. “He’s a lawyer.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I have to laugh.
“Anything else besides his practical career choices?” I ask.
“What else is there?” Beatrice jokes.
A sense of humour. Good taste in restaurants. A strong work ethic.
I banish those thoughts from my head. Michael Barnes is not my ideal man, I have to stop thinking about all his positive qualities.
I need to focus on his negative qualities. His arrogance. His disregard for the rules. The fact that he is my co-worker.
“I’ve only met him once or twice,” Beatrice says. “But he’s good friends with one of my co-workers, and he’s looking to be set up.”
“Why?” I ask. “What’s wrong with him?”
Beatrice waves her hand.
“Nothing is wrong with him,” she says. “He just doesn’t have the time to date around, and apparently all his friends are coupled up.”
“Huh,” I say. “I wonder what that’s like.”
Beatrice laughs and punches my shoulder. We gather our stuff and head out onto the sidewalk. It’s been a long while since any of us have been in a serious relationship. We all have our excuses. I’m busy with work, Marianne says she’s too free-spirited to be nailed down. Elena won’t admit it, but she’s way too good for most men. And no guy can keep up with Beatrice’s wicked humor.
I sometimes suspect that we all like being single. We may not want to be spinsters forever, but for now, we have each other. And maybe we’re scared to dive into a relationship and leave the safety of singledom behind.
“Alright, I’ll text my friend,” Beatrice says. “Then I’ll call you to give you the details on Dean.”