innocently, pleased by the shocked expression on his face. Good. I like surprising people; no doubt he’s misjudged me a few times this week. Probably as a girl who takes nothing seriously, or one who has a shitty work ethic.
Which…sometimes I do, yeah—sue me.
Just don’t fire me, ha.
“I don’t know how to feel about you saying the word fuck. It’s weird.”
“Why? Because I’m so sweet?”
Phillip regards me, choosing his words. “Kind of.”
What? WHAT? Is he being serious right now? He cannot casually call me sweet like that!
“Oh? You think I’m sweet kind of?” I’m shamelessly fishing for compliments and I don’t care.
“I see glimpses of it.”
“What else?” I force my eyes to the computer monitor so I appear as casual as possible, eagerly anticipating his response.
“Uh…um. Hmm.”
He has to think about it? Well, shit. That’s not promising.
I wait.
“You’re goofy.”
Goofy? That’s not cute or adorable. That’s…goofy.
I don’t reply because I’m not happy with that description of myself. I purse my lips.
Phillip laughs. “Okay sourpuss, I wasn’t insulting you.” He looks down at his phone. “Medium tea or small?”
I sniff indignantly. “Medium.”
From beneath my lashes, I see him hiding a grin in the collar of his dress shirt. He taps a few more times and nods, satisfied, setting the phone on the surface of his desk. “Dinner will be here in less than forty-five if we’re lucky.”
“Thanks. I am getting hungry, and there’s nothing but carbs in the breakroom—I’ve had my fill for the day.”
“You can stop pouting. I wasn’t done listing off all your adorable qualities.”
Adorable? That’s more like it. I perk up, straightening my back a bit.
“Sweet, most days. Giving—in a motherly way.” He pauses, thoughtful. “You’re funny and…”
And?
And!
I lean forward, trying not to come off as desperate for his praise, but I’m desperate for his praise. Even if he thinks I’m giving in a motherly way. Relax, Spencer—he didn’t call you matronly. He said motherly—not the same thing. Chill out.
“I’ve, um…watched how you interact with people in the office, and everyone loves you.”
Aw, they do? “They do?” This is news to me; I assumed most people find me exasperating.
“Yeah, they do. People gravitate toward someone outgoing. I’ve noticed when you go out into the common area, at least one person comes out of their office to talk with you.”
I consider this new information. Come to think of it, he’s right—if I’m standing around near the cubicles, inevitably, one of my co-workers will come out of their office to chat. I’m shocked Phillip has noticed. I’m flattered, and…
Does this mean he watches me when I’m not looking? When I walk out of this office, do his eyes follow me?
I store this news away in my brain, mentally doing somersaults and cartwheels but schooling my expression.
“Well. Other than you barfing in his trash can, I happen to know for a fact that Paul wants to be your friend.”
Phillip gawks. Then blinks. “He does not.”
I nod, holding up two fingers—scout’s honor. “He does. And I don’t mean in a ‘he wants to date you’ kind of a way, because I think he has a boyfriend, but he wants to hang out with you. Something about a dog park and your Basset Hound?”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
PHILLIP
“…and then, my older brother and sister had to explain to me that being called Tuna Fish at school was not cool.”
“Wait—tell me again why the hell you wanted to be called Tuna Fish?” I stab a piece of ninja roll sushi with a chopstick and shove it in my mouth whole, eel sauce catching on the corner of my mouth.
Since the sushi takeout arrived, we haven’t done shit as far as actually working, talking instead. How we found ourselves seated on the floor, beside the desks, backs against the wall, I do not know.
But we’re down here, laughing and telling stories, cartons of food scattered.
“I was in fourth grade, and a few days a week I would wear this dolphin shirt. My mom had to constantly wash it and it faded pretty quick, but I loved it. I was on a save the dolphins kick, you know? Total animal freak. Once at a water park, I swam around pretending to be a trout. I also wanted to save the wolves.”
Oh boy.
Spencer goes on. “So I wore the shit out of this shirt, and one of my little buddies starts calling me Tuna Fish. I think this is great, right? Running around the playground being called Tuna Fish.” We both laugh. “I mean, what the heck did I know?