boyish grin. “What are you thinking about? I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”
“Nothing, nothing at all.” I will my cheeks not to heat.
I’m doing it again. Staring off into space and thinking about Chad. After two weeks of his constant torture, I’m a mixture of exhausted and manic, running on my hundredth wind, mooning over a guy I hadn’t given a second’s thought to three months ago.
Ryan slaps his hands on my desk and leans forward in excitement. “Is this about a guy? Did you finally score the bass player?”
Ryan works with me in the graphics department and looks like he should be a surfer in Southern California, instead of suffering through Chicago weather. He’s blond, with light golden-brown eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He has the most charming smile and is unbelievably good looking. He’s also gay. Two years ago, we bonded in the break room over a love of music and the musicians that break our hearts. He’s my best work friend.
I have said nothing about Chad. I still don’t know what to say.
No matter how I try, I can’t stop the heat crawling up my neck. I don’t know why I am so nervous and skittish to talk about Chad, but I am. Everything we’re doing feels so incredibly intimate, so unbearably private. It’s like a part of me believes that anyone who sees me will instantly guess what we are doing together. How much he’s coming to mean to me.
In my vast history of dating, nobody has ever attempted to learn me the way Chad has, and he’s fast becoming an addiction. But like any addict, I want to hide him away so nobody can guess the havoc he’s causing in my life.
I shake my head. “Nope. The bass player is off my radar.”
Ryan narrows his eyes, peering at me intently. “Then who is it?”
“Nobody.” I tsk and roll my eyes. “Not everything has to do with guys.”
Ryan waves a finger over me in a big circle. “There’s only one thing that puts that look on your face. A hot musician. So spill.”
Hot musicians seem so simple now. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yes.”
My text buzzes and my stomach leaps when I see Chad’s name on the screen.
Ryan leans over the wall of my cubical. “Is that him?”
“No!” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
“Chad, huh?” Ryan waggles his eyebrows. “Sounds preppy.”
“You can go now.” I point in the direction of his cube, two down from me. We used to sit right next to each other, but we got moved around and separated when the new girl came. We try not to hold it against her.
Ryan raises a brow. “Is he preppy?”
He’s not going to give up and he knows me too well. I sigh. “Yes.”
“What instrument does he play?”
I smile and tilt my head to the side. “SQL.”
Ryan’s expression widens in surprise. “He’s not a musician?”
I shake my head, feeling like I’m betraying some sort of secret, unspoken code by dating a grown up. I lower my voice and whisper as though I’m saying something obscene, “He’s an IT guy.”
Ryan bursts out laughing. “When can I meet him?”
“Never,” I hiss, before waving him away. “Now go.”
My phone beeps again and it’s Layla. I pick up my phone. “I have to get this.”
“Don’t want to leave Chad waiting, huh?” Ryan grins at me. “Don’t forget to play hard to get.”
Brow furrowing, I stare down at my screen and realize with a sudden strangeness that I don’t have to play those kinds of games with Chad. That I don’t have to play any games. In the brief time I’ve been with him I always know exactly what to expect. There is no guesswork. Even more strange, I like it.
I break all my rules for him. Every single one of them. I’m emotional and vulnerable. I make confessions like they are going out of style. I’ve learned over the past two weeks that I can be completely honest with someone. For the first time in my life, I feel authentic. Every time I admit that I’m scared, or insecure, I gain a tiny bit of
“Nothing, nothing at all.” I will my cheeks not to heat.
I’m doing it again. Staring off into space and thinking about Chad. After two weeks of his constant torture, I’m a mixture of exhausted and manic, running on my hundredth wind, mooning over a guy I hadn’t given a second’s thought to three months ago.
Ryan slaps his hands on my desk and leans forward in excitement. “Is this about a guy? Did you finally score the bass player?”
Ryan works with me in the graphics department and looks like he should be a surfer in Southern California, instead of suffering through Chicago weather. He’s blond, with light golden-brown eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He has the most charming smile and is unbelievably good looking. He’s also gay. Two years ago, we bonded in the break room over a love of music and the musicians that break our hearts. He’s my best work friend.
I have said nothing about Chad. I still don’t know what to say.
No matter how I try, I can’t stop the heat crawling up my neck. I don’t know why I am so nervous and skittish to talk about Chad, but I am. Everything we’re doing feels so incredibly intimate, so unbearably private. It’s like a part of me believes that anyone who sees me will instantly guess what we are doing together. How much he’s coming to mean to me.
In my vast history of dating, nobody has ever attempted to learn me the way Chad has, and he’s fast becoming an addiction. But like any addict, I want to hide him away so nobody can guess the havoc he’s causing in my life.
I shake my head. “Nope. The bass player is off my radar.”
Ryan narrows his eyes, peering at me intently. “Then who is it?”
“Nobody.” I tsk and roll my eyes. “Not everything has to do with guys.”
Ryan waves a finger over me in a big circle. “There’s only one thing that puts that look on your face. A hot musician. So spill.”
Hot musicians seem so simple now. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yes.”
My text buzzes and my stomach leaps when I see Chad’s name on the screen.
Ryan leans over the wall of my cubical. “Is that him?”
“No!” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
“Chad, huh?” Ryan waggles his eyebrows. “Sounds preppy.”
“You can go now.” I point in the direction of his cube, two down from me. We used to sit right next to each other, but we got moved around and separated when the new girl came. We try not to hold it against her.
Ryan raises a brow. “Is he preppy?”
He’s not going to give up and he knows me too well. I sigh. “Yes.”
“What instrument does he play?”
I smile and tilt my head to the side. “SQL.”
Ryan’s expression widens in surprise. “He’s not a musician?”
I shake my head, feeling like I’m betraying some sort of secret, unspoken code by dating a grown up. I lower my voice and whisper as though I’m saying something obscene, “He’s an IT guy.”
Ryan bursts out laughing. “When can I meet him?”
“Never,” I hiss, before waving him away. “Now go.”
My phone beeps again and it’s Layla. I pick up my phone. “I have to get this.”
“Don’t want to leave Chad waiting, huh?” Ryan grins at me. “Don’t forget to play hard to get.”
Brow furrowing, I stare down at my screen and realize with a sudden strangeness that I don’t have to play those kinds of games with Chad. That I don’t have to play any games. In the brief time I’ve been with him I always know exactly what to expect. There is no guesswork. Even more strange, I like it.
I break all my rules for him. Every single one of them. I’m emotional and vulnerable. I make confessions like they are going out of style. I’ve learned over the past two weeks that I can be completely honest with someone. For the first time in my life, I feel authentic. Every time I admit that I’m scared, or insecure, I gain a tiny bit of
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