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“Don’t mention it,” he replies. “How’s the new place? You getting settled?”
“It’s getting there. I’ve got some semblance of furniture now, so at least I’m not sitting on the flooranymore.”
It’s only the second time I’ve seen him in the past two weeks aside from fleeting glances in the hallways. Carter swears Harrison told Marcus about the housewarming, but he still hasn’t confirmed if he’s coming. And last Friday, I was running late and didn’t see him.
“Thanks, by the way, for the invite this weekend,” he says, his eyes drifting out the window as he lifts his cup to his mouth. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it. My sister’s car broke down, and her husband’s away this week, so she’s stranded with two kids. They’ve got some school thing tomorrow morning, so I told her I’d come and help out.”
My stomach tightens and sinks, all the anticipation that had been building up in me over the last two weeks suddenly drowning, with nowhere to go.
“Oh,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “Sorry to hear that.”
A quiet silence falls between us. Of course he’s going to help his sister. Because that’s who he is. Loyal. Dependable. Perfect.
He coughs, then leans forward and picks up a small bag from the floor.
“I did actually get you a small housewarming gift,” he says, and those butterflies race straight back up, my eyes opening wide as I look at him.
He smiles, setting his cup down as he passes me the small brown paper bag.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say.
“I know,” he says. “But I saw it the other day, and it made me think of you. Go on, open it.”
He thought of me?My heart feels like it’s going to explode straight from my chest. I peek into the bag, seeing a small rectangular shape wrapped in brown paper. I pull it out and eye him curiously. He smiles.
“Go on,” he says.
I unwrap it, and as soon as I see it, a warmth spreads through me, a huge smile taking over my face. In the paper is a small rectangular wooden block that says in fancy lettering, “But first, coffee”, with a small picture of a coffee cup next to it.
It’s absolutely perfect, and I already know I’m going to treasure it forever.
“I love it,” I say, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
He shrugs, but there’s a flicker in his expression – like he’s pleased. “Seemed fitting,” he says. “You basically have caffeine in your bloodstream.”
I laugh, clutching the little block to my heart for a second before tucking it carefully back into the bag. “You’re not wrong,” I say. “Thank you, again.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our drinks. The hum of the coffee shop surrounds us – clinking cups, soft indie music, the hiss of steam from the machine. It feels strangely intimate, like we’re in our own little bubble despite the morning rush.
We rarely say much during these morning stops, and I can count on one hand the amount of times we’ve had a few minutes to sit down the way we have today, but they’re still the best parts of my week.
He glances at his watch. “We should head in.”
I nod, reluctant to break whatever this is, but knowing we have to. We both rise, gathering our things, and step out into the morning air. The leaves are fully out on the trees, and the bright sun promises warmer days ahead, with just the slightest bit of cool morning breeze drifting on the wind.
The walk to the office is no more than two minutes, but I am hyper-aware of every step beside him. The way his sleeve brushes mine. The quiet between us that somehow feels charged.
We walk into the building through the sliding doors, and step into the lift.
He glances sideways at me, and I glance back – and for a second, it feels like something unspoken is hovering there, just between us.
But then the lift dings, the doors open, and it’s gone.
“Hope the party goes well,” he says.
I smile, heart still fluttering. “Thanks,” I say. “I hope your sister is okay.”
He gives a small nod as the doors close to take him up to the fifth floor and I sigh, turning to walk to my desk.