he leaves the room, Gavin turns, flashing those brown eyes at me, his expression hard to read. “Can you meet me in my office?”
Why does that sound like a summons to the principal’s office? And yet, my crush-drunk heart is stumbling over itself in excitement. I get to go to Gavin’s office! Alone!!
Where I need to tell him I’m leaving. Ugh. That thought is a total buzzkill.
I’m halfway out the door when Roxana calls out, “Hey! Robot.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes?”
“That was a good call.”
“Thank you.” My words are automatic and cover my shock. Roxana actually said something nice?
She heads for the door, then calls, “Maybe you’ll get good at this—once you go through puberty.”
And … there it is. The insult I’d been expecting. With a smirk, Roxana disappears. I wish it were into a puff of smoke, but she just vanishes into the main office.
I’m not going to sit and stew in her words. I refuse. There was a compliment buried in there somewhere. I think. But I have better things to occupy my mind. Like whether or not right now is a good time to hand Gavin my resignation. Just in case I can work up the nerve, I stop by my desk and pick up my bag.
Nancy smiles at me as I approach her desk, which is just across from Gavin’s closed office door. She is a bright spot in the office with her easy smiles and grandmotherly persona. But today she seems a little too bright. Her cheeks look flushed, and her eyes are glassy.
“Are you okay, Nancy?”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Mostly. I didn’t sleep well last night. I started watching Pride and Prejudice and just couldn’t stop.”
I smile. “The mini-series?”
She looks down at me over her bifocals. “Like that newer one could compare. You can’t cram Jane Austen into a two-hour movie. It’s insulting. And I don’t care what the big fuss is about some hand gesture.”
I know exactly what hand gesture she’s talking about. I’m pretty sure anyone who has seen the movie knows exactly what hand gesture she means. There are blog posts and memes and Reddit threads all dedicated to the way Mr. Darcy flexed his hand after the first time he and Elizabeth Bennet touch.
“Plus,” Nancy continues, “that Colin Firth is hard to beat.”
“I don’t disagree with you there. But I have to say that I’m one of the people who loves the hand gesture.”
Nancy clucks her tongue and opens her mouth to speak, when a voice interrupts us. A deep, rich voice that has a direct line to some primal part of me. It’s a voice that makes me think of chocolate and dark coffee and warm kisses.
“What kind of hand gestures are we talking about here?”
Oh. My. Holy. Crackers.
Even my inner monologue is too thrown off to make sense. For sure, my mouth isn’t about to answer Gavin.
“Just having a little debate about men,” Nancy says with a wave of her hand.
No.
No, she didn’t.
My horrified gaze flies to Gavin, whose mouth tips up in a half smile. The kind that makes me want to press my mouth to the corner, just to see how it would feel against my lips. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway.
“Enlighten me. What kind of debate about men involves discussing hand gestures? I’m curious.”
“Not real men,” I manage to say. Which, of course, sounds even worse. Gavin’s brows shoot up. “Mr. Darcy. We’re discussing which edition of Pride and Prejudice is better.”
“And what’s the verdict?”
I glance at Nancy, who is chuckling. I can see mischief glittering there. Or maybe it’s fever? Because she definitely looks unwell.
“Depends on which one of us you ask,” she says. “Maybe you should be our tie-breaker. Have you seen either one?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well,” Nancy says, sliding a look my way. “Maybe you two should remedy that. Together.”
Nancy definitely has to be feverish. That’s the only reason I can imagine she would say something like that. I don’t think she knows about my feelings for Gavin. She’s certainly never tried playing matchmaker before now. Suggesting we watch Pride and Prejudice together? I’m not sure I would survive with my heart intact. No, I most definitely would not.
Gavin’s eyes flick to me, and I swear, for a brief moment, there is a smoldering heat in his gaze. Just as quickly, it’s gone, and his next words are like my own personal version of the ice bucket challenge.