Skye and the City (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 7

Imagine you're me.

I know, it's weird, isn't it? You're suddenly so clumsy. You say inappropriate things at the worst times, as if your brain and mouth somehow can't engage with one another. It's horrible. On the upside, you have really good hair! (Honestly, it's the best thing I have going for me. The "sweaty spaghetti" moment in the restaurant was just a temporary blip, I promise.)

Anyway . . .

You're me. Skye Templeton. 25 years old. Owner of both excellent hair and horrible luck.

And there are two mystery guys in your life.

The first: you only know his first name, but you know what he looks like. And you can remember the shivers of longing that prickled down your spine due to the way he looked at you; you can recall with great accuracy that one kiss that made you almost liquidise into a metaphorical puddle on the ground. There was no doubt that the chemistry sparked and fizzed, and your inbuilt Lust at First Sight scale virtually broke upon impact, unable to cope with the unprecedented levels of sexual desire found in your system. But . . . you don't know how to find him again.

Then there's  the second guy: you know his full name, but have no idea what he looks like (obviously, you've been told he's good looking; but a disproportionate amount of humans inexplicably think Adam Driver is handsome so apparently beauty really is in the eye of the beholder). But you know his voice, and the way it seems to lighten ever so slightly when he realises it's you on the other end of the phone. (Yep. You've locked yourself out of your account every other day for the past week and a half. On one occasion, it was even by accident.) You like his laugh, and something about it seems to light you up from the inside; sets a steady fire burning brightly in the pit of your stomach.

Based on such limited information (and, yes, I realise it's especially limited because I haven't told you anything yet about mystery guy number one), who would you be leaning towards? And what would you do about it?

You'd probably try to find a way to meet Ross in person for a start, right?

Believe me, I'm working on this . . . But short of just rocking up to the I.T. department, somehow accessing the secure floor they're based on and then just standing at the door and shouting, "Ross! Ross Macallister! Where are yooooooou??? "I'm having to just rely on . . . Well, luck. 

And so far, as you know, that has never been on my side.

I've managed to miss him both times he's been in my own office to deal with a "computer emergency". On one occasion - yesterday, in fact - I actually apparently missed him by less than a minute . . . talk about unfortunate! Every time I've been in the office, it's the aforementioned bloody Gareth who turned up!

Ross is also conspicuously absent on social media - just in case your next suggestion is to find his Facebook to uncover more information on him. Maybe the fact he's in I.T. makes him overly cautious of his own security and privacy settings - or maybe he's just trying to be bloody enigmatic and drive me crazy - but I've employed my best sleuthing skills and still haven't been able to locate him!

And, yes, I guess I could just bite the bullet and outright suggest we meet up . . . But oh my god, the very idea is terrifying. For a number of reasons.

1) Putting myself out there like that? Out of nowhere? "Hey, random I.T. guy who I've spoken to several times on the phone and even less occasionally exchanged the odd email with? I'm inexplicably drawn to you despite having never actually met you, and I'm starting to think I might be getting a vibe from you too so . . . How about it?" Honestly, the very idea makes me cringe from head to toe. What if he rejected me? What if he told everyone, and I had to immediately leave the company - and possibly the entire country - to avoid further embarrassment?