Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,20

men. I'm a dumbass."

I had to really think about that one. Had we actually moved too fast? Would I have done that in any other situation? I couldn't answer that question for myself. Nevertheless, I still felt something that was unmistakably lust. The more I stared at this man, the more I wanted him—and now he was acting like our encounter had been too far too soon.

"Effie?"

I hadn't said anything and it was obvious how loudly I was thinking.

"Yeah, sorry." I paused again, trying to calculate the right thing to say next. The coffee arrived before I had a chance.

"Try it," he said excitedly. The thrill of coffee served as a nice distraction. His enthusiasm was adorable.

I looked at the beverage, the visual aspect of it really beautiful. The cold, whipped milk sat atop the espresso just perfectly, a small blur of color where the two substances met. I took a sip and couldn't believe it. It was the perfect amount of sweet while not being too sweet, the perfect iced coffee drink for that warm summer day.

"Wow. This is really good." A smile that I just couldn't hold back broke out on my face.

"Come on a date with me tonight, okay? Casual, no big deal." The words sputtered out at a machine-gun pace, as if he hadn't heard me compliment the coffee at all.

I sort of forgot about the coffee, too.

"What if I say no?"

"I'll send you three gifts tomorrow."

He definitely had the upper hand. "Fine, you win. I'll go." I took another sip of the drink. "What about Sam, though?" I asked.

"The business part of it? I'll never let this negatively affect your work situation. I promise. The artist and I haven't made a final decision yet. It has nothing to do with you."

"Sam is still freaking out about it," I said. "He seems pretty desperate. Maybe you should—"

"Maybe I should what?" he asked suddenly. "If I let this sway my business decision in any way, I could get into trouble later. So I'll keep it clear and concise, and we'll let him know when—and if—we're ready."

I quickly realized I had little to no idea what I was talking about—and more importantly that I needed to just shut up and not worry right now. "Okay, fine. Yeah, make the best decision for you."

"I always do," he said with a sly smile. "That's why I'm here."

"What if I said no to the date? Would you skip MCI?"

He started laughing and lightly stroked my hand, enough that it actually made me tremble. I was just glad to see that despite the little flare-up of business-related seriousness, he had already made a triumphant return to being jovial.

We kept with that theme and chatted casually the rest of the lunch. It seemed obvious that Jack wanted to keep things light—or maybe to save the heavy stuff for our upcoming, newly inevitable dinner.

As always, time seemed to move too fast, and before I knew it, I had to head back to work. Jack gave me a quick hug to conclude our little meeting, and honestly, I'll say I really liked it. I liked how secure I felt with his arms felt around me, as if I were momentarily shielded from the harshness of the city. It was so weird and tumultuous—I was trying to validate the things I felt whilst trying hide in a cloak of being logical.

The world rushed back in like an unpleasant drug as our bodies separated, the hug concluding prematurely, in my mind, at least. It had probably been the perfect amount of length; I just was too caught up to know for sure.

Jack smiled and headed off. There was no explicit goodbye. It was an omission that only served to make me even more excited about our upcoming date.

"Thanks for the gifts," I shouted to him as he got farther away. He lifted his hand to signify that he heard.

***

Sam didn't say anything else to me the rest of the day, only asking if I had any of the chocolates left.

"You really think I could eat all hundred of those, Sam? There were a lot in there."

He laughed uncontrollably and left again, realizing that I had taken them home. Sam seemed slightly more relaxed today, but I had no idea why. He didn't appear to be carrying as much tension in his shoulders.

I was afraid to say anything with regard to Jack, worried that just mentioning his name would implicate me in some sort of crime—or even worse,