The Language of Us

Chapter Two

Deanna took the 7:30am bus to The Carbondale Times and arrived at the building with fifteen minutes to spare. She stopped right outside the door and made sure her phone was on silent. Dea didn't want it going off when she met her boss in-person for the first time.

Adjusting the straps of her purse and lunchbox on her shoulder, she strolled inside. There were potted plants on either side of the door and a small water station to the right. The floor was carpeted and the desks were not cubicles, thank god. The icing on the cake was that the entire building smelled like a book. Not that Dea went around sniffing books like they were cocaine or anything...

The building was fairly large for a small newspaper publisher. Only a few people were there; it was still pretty early. The editors were the some of the people who had to be there at eight in the morning; everyone else came in at 8:30am or 9am.

"Deanna?"

Oh no.

She knew that voice.

Dea turned towards the voice and, lo and behold, there he was. The bastard.

Dea was so busy looking around that she hadn't paid attention to who was sitting at the receptionist's desk.

Dea looked blankly at Jon, who stood up at the sight of his former classmate. There was a moment of silence while the two of them just took each other in. Jon had cut his hair; it was no longer styled like the lead singer of an emo boy band—no fringe, no messy mop of hair. It was styled short and neat and wow that look really suits him, thought Dea.

He wore a black long sleeved oxford shirt with a dark blue tie—something Dea had only ever seen him in during the two high school dances she went to. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and damn was that a sight. There was something about men having their sleeves rolled up like that that made them appear more attractive than usual. Science? Sure. Witchcraft? Probably.

Jon was all kinds of confused. Why was she here? Why didn't she post anything about a trip to Carbondale on Facebook? Not that Jon constantly checked her Facebook page or anything....But what was she doing here?

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Deanna was so shocked herself that she couldn't even make out any words. Luckily, her boss, Steve Page, came waltzing around the corner and spotted her standing right in front of the doors.

"Miss Mercer!" he exclaimed, delighted. "What a pleasure it is!" Steve walked right up to her—completely oblivious to the fact that she and Jon were clearly having a moment—and shook her hand with both of his. He was overjoyed to have another young person working at The Carbondale Times. Most of the employees had been there for years—decades even—and it was always refreshing to have a new face there from time to time.

"It's lovely to finally meet you in person, Mr. Page," Dea said politely.

"Oh, nonsense! Call me Steve. Here, let me show you around." Steve walked away and gestured for Dea to follow him. He was an old man; he'd been here when they first started up. He was manager now, having worked his way up from being a journalist.

Dea blinked at Jon as she passed him by. She still couldn't believe that Jonathan Elmakias was here in front of her, after so long.

"We'll catch up later," assured Jon, still puzzled as to what brought her here.

Jon watched as Dea turned the corner with Steve rambling on about the history of the building and what his first article was about.

Jon sat back down, silent. He didn't think he'd ever see Deanna again. He knew what she was generally up to when he checked Facebook, but they hardly texted each other, never mind called. In high school it was easy to take the time they spend together in class for granted. He didn't think much about how it'd make him feel in the long run. After all, he'd been dating Gianna at the time and she was his preoccupation.