You, Again

Meeting the Boss

One week into living with Christian and they had gotten into a routine. Christian would wake up an hour before her and go for a run. She'd hear him tinker around the kitchen. Open the cabinet and grabbing the coffee. Shaking the box of cereal into his favorite Jets bowl from the 1998 game his dad went to. She'd lie awake in bed holding her breath as he walked near her door to go to the bathroom. She'd wait until he had stepped into the shower before dashing out of bed to set up a cup of coffee. She had timed it well in the last three days so that her coffee was done and she was safely back in her room before Christian stepped out of the shower. She had even gotten faster after the unfortunate towel incident on day two when she had walked right into him with a scalding hot cup of coffee. She had been so distracted by him wrapped in nothing but a towel, the water rivulets still dripping down his chest. His very, very well-toned chest.

By the time she came back to reality it was too late. She had Christian knocked into one another so quickly she had dropped the coffee. He probably still had burns up his calves from the liquid as the cup smashed to the ground and the coffee splattered up.

He didn't even have a reaction. He stood stock still then politely asked her to move out of the way. She watched as he stepped gingerly around the puddle, locking himself in his room and leaving her to clean up the mess. Since then she assumed it was best to stay out of his way in the morning. She was the guest here and she was messing up his morning routine.

Back in the solace of her bedroom, she sipped her coffee trying to pay less attention to Christian's bathroom habits. She heard the shower turn off and the faucet turn on. The familiar clink of his razor against the sink's edge and his low, deep hum of the Beach Boys. She would never confess to knowing this much about him. That would be too embarrassing. But there was something nice about predicting his behaviors. Christian was reliable and she loved that on any given weekday between 7:15 and 7:23 am she could bank on hearing Kokomo.

Letting his hum fade into the background, she brought her attention back to the task at hand. She was finally meeting Mr. Ingram today. He had sent her a cryptic email late last week. Something about Thailand or Hungary or perhaps both. He wasn't quite sure where he had left the latest script he was reading. Would she mind terribly if they tossed the idea of her being his assistant and instead she kept doing what she was doing?

At first, she panicked. She thought she was losing her job but after a few moments of deep breathing, she realized this was possibly the best outcome. She could continue flying under the radar and making money while doing it. If Mr. Ingram didn't want or need a personal assistant like his wife implied, that was fine by her. Besides, after coffee with him today she probably wouldn't see him for a good six months according to his self-described travel schedule. This would be a piece of cake.

She heard the bathroom door open and Christian's tell-tale footstep pattern as he made his way back to his room. She would deposit her coffee cup in the sink before scurrying to the bathroom. With any luck Christian would leave the apartment before she even got out of the shower.

Apparently luck was not on her side today. Not only had Christian used all of the hot water but she had stubbed her toe on the edge of her bed while getting dressed. Still shivering from her ice rinse, she headed into the kitchen wrapped in her robe for warmth.

"Oh, jeez. Hi I'm sorry." Why was she apologizing? Christian turned around from the sink, leaning against it.

"What are you apologizing for? If anything I'm in your way. I'm running late today." This was the most they'd spoken since dinner. Devin grabbed eagerly at the opening.

"Why are you running late?" She winced. It came out more accusatory than curious. She watched as Christian shifted his stance from easy and laid back to defensive.