Just a Girl - Becky Monson Page 0,41
second, as if it’s hard to talk to me. “How are you?” he finally asks, the words sounding almost caught in his throat.
“I’m fine,” I say, still keeping my tone flat.
“Good,” he says again.
“Great,” I say.
We stand there, looking at each other, Henry still looking almost pained to be in my presence. Like sharing the same space with me physically hurts him. I confirm in my mind that this is definitely a waste of karma and not going at all how my brain thought it would. In my mind when I got Henry alone, there would be looks of longing from him and some declarations of regret. And maybe a quick make-out session in the utility closet just two doors down from here.
I take a breath after a few seconds of silence. “You’re not going to do that idea of Moriarty’s, are you?” I ask him, the only question I can come up with. I might as well try to use this moment for something more than clipped words and quiet awkwardness.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says, and his pained expression dissipates.
I don’t say anything but nod my agreement with that decision.
“It’s a great idea, though,” he says. “I mean your original idea. The intern one.” The corner of his mouth lifts up slightly. With just those words, his gaze turns warmer, the coldness that had blanketed the room seeming to shift away. The Henry I know—the one from not that long ago—makes an appearance.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. I smile at him, and he smiles back. Real, genuine smiles. The dimple makes an appearance. Oh, how I’ve missed that smile.
Henry’s eyes take a slow perusal down my face and land smack-dab on my lips. An electricity suddenly crackles between us, the clipped words and coldness forgotten. His eyes stay on my lips for longer than is considered normal. My mind starts to wonder if the utility closet might actually come to fruition.
I wonder if I should touch him. Put a hand on his arm, let him know whatever he’s thinking, whatever has lighted that fire in his eyes, is welcomed by me.
But before I can say anything, he shakes his head as if waking himself up and looks away from me, over to the side of the room toward the head of the conference table where he was just sitting.
“I’ll see you,” he says after a couple of seconds. And then he turns and walks out the door.
~*~
“So, I gave you more than a week,” a voice from behind me says. I was just grabbing my purse and was about to shut down my computer.
I swing my chair around to find Brady standing there. His brown hair is ruffled in a semi-endearing way, and his hands are shoved into his jean pockets.
“I’m sorry?” I say, blinking rapidly and trying to get my bearings. I had just finished reading my emails, and there were some scathing ones. Including this one from Grace Is Amazing:
From: [email protected]
Subject: How?
I do not understand how they keep you on this station with all the stuttering you do. You can read, can’t you?
Only trying to help,
Grace
I mean, I did stutter over my words a bit today. Even Parker was giving me odd looks. I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all. But why does she have to be so cruel?
Grace, in my mind, now has a wicked case of halitosis. And maybe some festering boils.
“I don’t want to pressure you or anything; it’s just a date,” Brady says, bringing me back to him.
I pull my eyebrows inward. What’s he talking about?
“Listen, if you don’t want to go out, just tell me,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m so sorry, Brady. My mind has been elsewhere lately.”
“I noticed, which is why I waited.”
“Right.” I had forgotten. I’d forgotten that I needed to have a talk with Brady about things between us. But then that was before Henry stamped on my heart. Now there’s no longer a Henry that I’m dating, but a Henry that’s my boss.
“So, what do you say?” Brady asks. His expression is so sweet—so hopeful. I don’t want to hurt him.
“I . . .” I let out a breath. “I’m kind of in a weird place right now.”
He purses his lips, tilting his head to the side. “Okay, then let’s go out to eat and we can talk about it.”
“Right,” I say, blinking my eyes. Well, the boy does have some gumption after all.