The 18th Floor

Chapter Eight

After this morning's shit show, the day slows down and goes by as normal, in a stream of meetings and training. I knew Lucien wouldn't be mad that I was late, but it still fills me with anxiety. I don't like being late. But his reaction wasn't what I was expecting. To take my clothes and lay them out to dry, or to even offer his own shirt. I contemplated to not even attempt to dry the shirt just so I could wear his, but I thought better of it. I can't.

By 3 pm it is pouring it down with rain and I am silently praying it slows down by 5pm otherwise all my drying efforts from this morning would have been for nothing.

By the time 5pm arrives and it seems like the rain has only gotten harder.

"Are you not leaving?", Lucien asks me as he has started to pack up whilst I'm still staring out the window.

"I might wait for the rain to slow down a little bit", I reply. He looks out the window as if he has just realised it was raining.

"Do you need an umbrella?", he asks, genuine questions.

"Pushing a wheelchair in the rain whilst trying to hold an umbrella, believe or not is not a match made in heaven," I reply jokingly and forcing a laugh.

The team have been great so far, with no one asking prying questions or thinking I am uncapable of doing basic tasks. I feel like I've managed to settle in well and slowly started to find my footing amongst them, and the office in general. I've noticed over the weeks how doors have started to be left open and items of furniture have slowly started disappearing, making narrow walkways a bit wider now.

"I'll be soaking by the time I get to the station anyway and it's probably packed out. I'll get a bit more work done and then head home", I tell him.

"Let me drive you home."

"What?" I blurt out, suddenly turning my head towards him, sincerity across his face at his statement.

"I can drive you home, it is no fuss. You said you lived in North, right? So do I, I can drop you off", he says, taking me all in. "If you get soaked again, you'll for sure get ill and I can't have that happening."

My heart starts pounding, for whatever reason, I don't know.

"I don't want to bother you", I reply quietly, not knowing what else to say.

"Cyrene, there will be a repeat of this morning. And, you don't need to stay behind, I've seen how efficient you are I bet you've already gone through everything from today even if you missed some time this morning", he says and I feel my cheeks redden a bit at the way he's noticed that I've finished early a handful of times now.

"Let me drop you off Cyrene", he says as he goes over to grab my coat and boots. I want him to say my name again. I nod and go to take my boots from him but he draws back. "They're still wet."

I sigh, "it's fine I just won't wear them, we'll be in the car anyway", I say reaching out to get them. He hands me my coat instead and goes to hold open the door, my boots still in his hand. If he insists on carrying them, I won't complain.

He holds the door open, silently motioning for me to follow him out and we start to make our way down the elevator. Rather than pushing the ground floor button, as he has done every day for the past three weeks, he presses -2.

"Where are we going?", I ask.

"The building parking lot", he replies.

I didn't even know there was a parking lot beneath. The clogs start turning. Lucien told me early on he drove to work but he's been walking with me out the building every day since I started. I don't know how to feel about that. Does he think I can't open doors? Though honestly speaking none of the team has acted as if I'm unable to do anything, but Lucien's comment still floats in my head from time to time when I catch him staring at my me. No, the chair, he wouldn't be staring at me.

He must see it on my face, must see how I'm trying to figure out why he comes down with me when he needs to go lower down, as he says "if you're wondering why I don't come straight down, it's because there's also an entrance to the car park from outside, but there are stairs going down for that. And I also enjoy walking out with my colleagues", he adds clearing his throat, trying to convince me. I don't say anything.

The elevator doors open and he leads me to his car. If his suites didn't scream money, his car does.
"Mercedes AMG 63? I had you pegged as more of a BMW guy", now he's the one looking at me shocked.

"You know your cars?", he asks.

"You would be surprised at what I know."

"I don't doubt that for a second", he smiles back and it fills me with something warm.

"I like F1", I admit and wait for the generic reaction of how girls only like motorsports for the fit guys.

"If it's not Mercedes I don't want to hear it."

"I love Hamilton, but Ferrari always", I say and he laughs shaking his head.

"Typical", he says as he shakes his head smiling revealing that dimple.

I don't like what that smile does to my breathing. It's not often I see him smile.

As we get close to the car, panic starts to rise in my chest as the realisation dawns on me. The G-Wagon is a good few inches off the ground. After learning wheelchair to bed, wheelchair to the sofa and other chair transfers, transferring to a car, after deciding to get into one after years, became not so different than my daily moves. I can transfer by myself into my dad's VW Golf, because it's small and close to the ground, but this? There's no way I can get in by myself. I feel my hands start to shake.

Lucien opens the back door and puts his briefcase in the back and suddenly realises why I haven't moved close to the car.

He clears his throat, once, twice, and then finally says, "if you need a hand, I'm more than happy to help you out. Only if you want to. I know you perfectly capable and –"

I cut him off, "yes please". It escapes my lips quietly, and quickly. He looks shocked, but hides it quickly, almost as if he didn't think I would admit to it.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he says. Want, not need.

"I can usually get into my dad's car" I explain, "but yours is too high up." I'm waffling; wasting time. He nods, understanding that I do not want to ask this from him.

"How about, I'll open the passenger door and then I'll lift you up into the seat? Is that ok with you?" he's clearly regretting the offer to drive me.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak as he places one arm under my legs and the other behind my back, as I secure one of my own behind his neck instinctively. He lifts me up as if I weigh nothing, carrying me over to the car.

Normally, I would hate this. The need to be moved around physically by someone else, but for some reason, this doesn't feel like the worst thing. My heart is thundering so loud in my chest that I'm scared Lucien can feel it. I can smell his perfume. The same one he wears every day. I wrap one arm around his neck and the other somehow falls onto his chest. I didn't mean to do it, it just happened, but I can't find myself to remove it. It's rock solid, if I pressed further, I'm sure I could feel the abs underneath.

He eases me into the passenger seat, and although I was in his arms for what was around 10 seconds, I suddenly feel cold at the lack of his body heat around me. I adjust myself as I click my seatbelt into place.

"Will the chair fit in the boot or do you want me to show you how to dissemble it?", I ask, surprised at how I've managed to keep my voice from shaking from the short lived seconds I was wrapped in his embrace.

"I think it should fit," he says to me as he turns back to push my chair, bending over his tall frame, and going to open the boot. It's the first time he has touched it, I realise. A lot of people go to push it instinctively, but Lucien's never shown that reflex. He almost makes sure to keep a distance away from it. I close my door and try to control my breathing as the backdoor closes and the driver's seat opens.

"It fits", he smiles at me, as he hands me my bag that hangs at the back of my chair.

"Thank you," I say, and I hope he knows I don't mean it for just the bag.

We leave the car park and it is still pouring it down with rain. He hands me his phone and asks me to tap in my address. I do so, and we drive in a comfortable silence, listening to music through the downpour of rain up until the two cars in front of us crash.