Page 13 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Faye

While I make my way into the office on Monday morning, I have the naive hope that it will be a quiet day with no weird requests or strange deliveries.

That I can leisurely sip my coffee while checking emails.

Laura from sales will come by my desk to tell me about her kid’s ballet recital over the weekend. A normal, boring Monday.

Then I walk into the lobby to find that the worst possible event that could be occurring is happening today.

The annual blood drive.

I’m not opposed to giving blood, in fact I love that the company sponsors this event every year. But considering that I’m somehow still so hungover that I can barely blink my eyes without feeling like my very existence is wobbling, I think giving blood is the last thing I should do today.

Before I even make it to my desk, I’m intercepted by Alexis at the elevator.

“I told Richard you’d help with the blood drive this morning. Tina was going to do it, but she’s out sick. Several people are out today with some kind of flu that’s been going around. We need someone to guide employees where they need to go.”

I guess the giant banners I just walked past don’t communicate that loud and clear.

Richard is Alexis’s manager, and he’s the only person that I’ve ever seen Alexis show any signs of insecurity around. She probably jumped at the chance to tell him that her assistant would be happy to help in this emergency just so she could feel like she’s saving the day.

“Okay, yeah. No problem.”

“Great, you can set up at Tina’s desk in reception.”

I try to see the silver lining: at least in the reception area, my pounding headache and queasy stomach I’m battling won’t be made worse by coworkers having loud conversations in our open office space. Maybe I can get some work done.

Three hours later, I’m sending a friendly reminder to the marketing team to let me know their lunch order for this week’s lunch and learn, “Making EQ Work for You,” when an Eli-shaped shadow appears in front of me.

We didn’t text any more yesterday, but I have found myself thinking about Friday night too often. The tequila shots. Our pool game. The edge of Eli’s mouth tickling the edge of my ear. Our pretend kissing. Wanting the kissing to be real?

I feel flustered, seeing him standing there. He looks the opposite of hungover, all bright-eyed and brimming with his usual charm.

He takes a bite of the cookie I just watched him sweet-talk from the blood drive volunteer.

“I see you’ve been doing some more pretend flirting this morning.” I nod to the cookie table. I shake my head and tsk. “Just for more snickerdoodles.”

It was hard not to watch him talking and laughing with the volunteers, seeing them respond to his playful flirtations with sweet smiles and batting eyelashes. How does he always know what to say? It’s almost like the act of breathing is harder for him than talking.

He snaps the cookie in half and hands part of it to me before tossing the other half into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin. “You mean Edith? Who said that was pretend?”

I force the bite down, wondering if cinnamon and sugar will help or hurt right now.

As the morning has gone on, I’ve somehow managed to get much worse.

How long should a hangover last? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

I remember Alexis mentioning a flu going around, and I wonder if what I’m battling right now is more than just Jose Cuervo-related.

He leans in, conspiratorial. “Don’t worry, though. You’re the only woman I’ve ever pretended to kiss.”

I look up at him and our bodies are positioned in much the same way they were the other night, and I’m reminded of the fact that I know what it feels like to have his full attention on me.

That, much like the women handing out cookies, I’m not immune to his charms. My stomach bounces and lurches in a weird dance between nervous giddiness and nausea.

I shiver, suddenly very cold, and tighten my sweater around me. “I’m honored, but can we forget about that, too?”

Eli’s face turns serious, and he holds his water bottle out to me. It’s gigantic and navy blue with stickers all over it. “You okay? Do you want some of my water?”

I wave the water away. “No, I’m good.”

He nods outside to the blood drive van. “Have you ever given blood before?”

“I didn’t even give blood today. I think I’m still just feeling off from drinking.

” If I tell myself that enough, it might make it true.

Because I can’t be sick. I have way too much work to get done.

I need to call Conrad to book the massage sessions.

I need to get weekly metrics to Alexis. I need to .

. . do a lot of other things I’m having a hard time remembering at the moment.

“Maybe you should go home.”

“Can’t. I’m supposed to sit here for another hour and make sure everyone is able to read that sign.” I point to the banner with a drawing of a drop of blood with vampire teeth and a speech bubble that says, “I want to take your blood!”

“Says who?”

As if on cue, Alexis emerges from the elevator. “Looks like it’s thinned out. Faye, you can head back upstairs.”

I stand up way too fast, and have to brace myself on the desk. “Okay, sounds great!”

Alexis turns to me and gives me a suspicious look. “Are you feeling well? If you don’t feel well, you shouldn’t be here spreading germs. I have a gala this weekend that I cannot miss.”

How bad do I look? They’re both acting like I’m about to drop dead in the lobby.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

She doesn’t look so sure, but doesn’t say anything else before floating out with the same confident ease she moves through every area of her life.

“Faye,” Eli says.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you want to go home? You clearly feel bad.”

I grab my things and head for the elevators. “Too much to do. And like I said, I feel fine.”

Also, the thought of going home sick to my sad apartment feels worse than pushing through the rest of the day at the office.

The elevator arrives and we both step inside. As soon as it starts its ascension up to the sixth floor, I know I can’t keep lying to Eli—or myself—anymore.

I feel like shit.

I wake up in an unfamiliar bed.

It’s pitch-dark, and all I can see is the outline of streetlights through the blinds. I panic, rolling over quickly to try to get up, but I’m wrapped in a blanket that I’ve managed to twist around myself in a tight burrito.

The blanket is familiar, though. It may be dark, but I know that it’s plaid and fleece and one I’ve owned for over ten years.

And the bed I’m in is only unfamiliar because it’s located in the bedroom I never sleep in.

I feel around to see if I can find my phone, but it’s too dark to see.

I don’t have a bedside lamp, and I guess Rett was right about needing that nightstand.

The last thing I remember is Eli giving me a ride home from work because he wouldn’t allow me to drive. In hindsight, I’m glad he did. But how did I get in the bedroom? I would have gone straight to the couch.

I hobble out into the living room where a lamp has been left on. There’s a sticky note taped to the lampshade.

Why is this your only light?

Below it is a very bad doodle of a vampire.

“Someone’s never heard of mood lighting,” I grumble.

Just the act of taking the ten steps from the bedroom to the living room has exhausted me, so I sit on the couch and look around for my phone. Not on my coffee table. Not under the couch cushions.

There are two sticky notes on the arm of the couch.

Heading back to office.

Text when you wake up?

I wonder what time it is. If it’s this dark, it has to be pretty late. I get up and flick the light on in the kitchen. See? I have other light sources. I see my phone charging on the counter and see that it’s 9:13 p.m.

I unlock it to text Eli when my eye catches on something else on the linoleum. My “Faye’s Hierarchy of Fun” list. He’s seen it, but it’s one thing to talk about something while you’re tipsy and another to see physical evidence of this silly thing I might be doing.

I thought about throwing it away, but something held me back from getting rid of it. At the very least, it’s a funny keepsake. It’s still incredibly embarrassing that he’s seen it, though.

I text him: Thank you for giving me a ride home!

Eli: Of course. How are you feeling?

Faye: Better. Question though. How did I get in the bed?

Eli: You don’t remember? I tried to carry you, but you kept squirming around. We ended up sort of hobbling together up the stairs and I helped you into bed.

I have vague memories of this, but that must have been some fever I had. This is so embarrassing. He was trying to help me, and I was fighting him all the way?

Faye: I’m so so sorry.

Eli: For what?

Faye: That you had to bring me home and then wrangle me into my apartment.

Eli: No big deal. It was my lunch break.

Eli: I tried to find sheets to make your bed.

Faye: I don’t actually own any sheets yet.

Seeing those words typed out really does something to me. How did I let things get so bad? Who doesn’t own sheets? And why did I just tell him I don’t own sheets?

Dots pop up to indicate he’s typing. They go away and come back a few times.

Eli: Might wanna get sheets for some of those fun activities you want to do.

Faye: Ughhhhh

Eli: I’m 100% in support of this fun journey of yours by the way.

My stomach growls, which I’m taking as a good sign that I’m on the mend. I check my cabinets, hoping that some chicken noodle soup will magically appear. I see another sticky note placed on the shelf next to a box of Frosted Flakes.

Check your door.

Intrigued, I open the door, having no idea what I expect to find, but it definitely isn’t two grocery bags full of stuff. I glimpse a box of Saltines and a huge bottle of blue Gatorade. My stomach twists again in a very new way that I don’t feel like analyzing at the moment.

Faye: You did not get me groceries.

Eli: Technically Monica, a lovely Instacart employee, got you groceries.

I unload the bags, finding a variety of soups, some bananas, a loaf of bread, and a Vogue magazine.

Faye: The Vogue is a nice touch.

Eli: You seem fashion-y so thought you might like it.

Eli: Is fashion-y a word?

Faye: This is too much. What’s your Venmo? I will pay you back.

Eli: We need you healthy again so you can get back to your fun needs.

Faye: I think I’ve had enough fun for awhile.

Eli: You’re not giving up yet are you?

I pour the can of chicken noodle into a bowl and place it in the microwave.

Faye: It feels silly

Eli: Not owning sheets is silly

Faye: Rude

The microwave beeps and I use the blanket wrapped around me as an oven mitt to remove it.

Eli: I think you need a coach.

Faye: I think I need new friends who don’t pressure me.

Faye: p.s. the soup is a lifesaver

I precariously set my soup down on the coffee table and get settled in on the couch.

Eli: It’s not pressure. It’s encouragement.

Eli: I hate soup, but it seemed like the right thing to get.

Faye: You hate soup??? It’s the best food.

Eli: No way.

Faye: I could eat nothing but soup for the rest of my life.

Eli: Gross

Eli: p.s. you can’t change the subject. What’s next on the list?

I get up to grab the list from my counter and bring it back over to the couch, smoothing out the wrinkled paper.

Faye: New job is a pretty high priority.

Eli: Good idea. Maybe something with better pay so you can afford a set of sheets.

Faye: GOODNIGHT

Faye: And thank you again.

Eli: You’re welcome. Goodnight.

I finish my soup and curl up in my couch nest, feeling much better.