Blaze

Five; James

I was late to my own staff meeting, and the rest of the day hasn't been much better. I've been in a daze, distracted by her. I should be planning our Scholar's Day event and upcoming open house, but I've spent most of the day almost obsessing over this girl.

I'm responding to the last emails of the day when Miranda knocks gently on the door frame. I look up and smile as she hands me a stack of papers.

"What's this? The Scholars Day invitations?" I ask as I rise pull a chair out for her. Miranda was promoted to Assistant Director at the same time I was promoted to Director. We've worked together for almost five years, and she is fantastic at her job. While I focus mostly on the numbers, using data to shape our recruitment and yield strategies, she is a dynamic presenter and brilliant marketer.

"Sure are," she answers, "Hot off the press. I already looked them over and approved." She takes a seat and hands me a coffee.

"If you approve, it's good enough for me," I reply. I'm not going to second guess a decision she's more qualified to make.

"We need an experienced student ambassador to lead the tours. Jana?"
Jana is one of my favorite interns because she's sharp and works hard. I rarely have to give her instructions, and as an upper class-man, she also has a wealth of knowledge about the University. But she's not exactly a people person. I shake my head and suggest another intern instead.

We iron out the remaining details of Scholars' Day. It's one of the biggest and most important events the Admissions Office hosts each year. The University offers a variety of partial and full academic scholarships for incoming, current and transfer students, and most are awarded based on G.P.A. and test scores, extracurricular and community involvement, an essay and an interview.

As usual, I have outlined the itinerary for Scholar's Day and plan to serve on an interview panel, but Miranda will deliver the opening presentation and direct the events of the day. I trust her enough not to worry about the details.

"We'll confirm the interview panels and locations when I get back from the enrollment planner's conference next week."

Miranda nods and organizes the papers on her desk into neat piles. "Louisville?" she asks, walking toward the door.

"No, it's in Covington this year."

Miranda scrunches her eyebrows together and turns. "Where?"

"Northern Kentucky. Right across the river from Cincinnati."

She smiles and nods. "Terrible drive, but Cincinnati is a fun city. You should check out the craft breweries in the O.T.R. neighborhood."

I nod. "Yeah," I reply. "Maybe."

It's a lie. I don't tell her that I won't be going into the city. I don't tell her I won't cross that bridge. I can't. Not for another year at least.

I get less than a minute to dwell on my melancholy. Charlie saunters in right as Miranda leaves.

"You were late to your own meeting." He laughs as he plops down in one of the brown leather chairs facing my desk.

I groan, "Don't remind me." I look back at my computer screen. He chomps down on the apple in his hand and stares down at his phone. He takes another bite and flicks his wrist as he swipes left. Tiny particles of juice explode from the apple and assault my desk.

"Can I help you?" I ask, irritation obvious in my tone.

"Nah, I'm good." He grins and swipes right, then grabs a picture frame on the corner of my desk. He clumsily wipes at the glass with his sleeve but just ends up smearing the juice. Now the glass is a mess and his cuff is sticky. He sets the streaky frame down in the wrong spot, slightly crooked. My left eye twitches.

"Let me rephrase. What are you doing in my office, Charlie?" I reach out and straighten the frame. I'll have to clean it properly when he leaves.

He answers, eyes back down on his phone. "I've been trying to get the story all day. I know there must be one. You were late. You're never late."

"I overslept."

"You did not! I was on the phone with you when you left this morning."

Shit, I forgot about that. "Fine. I had to help a person with a thing." It's not a lie. He keeps his eyes on the screen and swipes right.

"A person with a thing, huh? Well, that explains everything," he deadpans. He swipes left, still not sparing me a glance.

"There was a girl."

His head snaps up. He tosses the phone on the couch beside him and leans toward me, his elbows resting on his knees.

"A girl?"

"A woman. She had a panic attack outside Roasters. I stayed with her until she calmed down."

"Why?" Charlie asks. "Was it someone you know?"

I'm annoyed at Charlie's apparent lack of chivalry. "No, I've never even seen her before. But she needed help, Charlie."

"She was hot wasn't she?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"That's beside the point." I can't stop myself from grinning.

"But it's also true." He sits back, smirking at me. "How hot? Details, man."

I run through the details in my mind. Grayish-blue eyes, full bottom lip, hourglass figure, soft skin... I decide against sharing and raise an eyebrow in warning. "We're not doing this," I growl. He laughs.

"A little touchy?" he teases, "Seriously, I know I mess with you, but I'm glad you're moving on."

I was turned on, I'm not moving on. There are some things you can't move on from. They change you. Infect you. They don't happen to you, they become part of you.

"Don't get carried away. I barely know the girl. I stayed with her through a panic attack. I didn't propose."

"Well, it's a step anyway. So tell me about mystery girl. Are you seeing her again?"

"I doubt it." And yet I want to.

"Did you get her number?"

"Of course not." What would be the point? I had a string of meaningless flings after Carrie. Each left me emptier than before and I ended up hurting more than a few women. It's not worth it.

"What's her name? Let's see if she's on Tinder." He holds up his phone and wiggles his eyebrows. I shrug.

"Dude, you finally meet a hot chick and you don't get a name or number? You are bad at this. Come out with me this weekend and we'll work on your game."

"I'm good." I reply honestly. Charlie stands and walks to the door.

"Rec center in half an hour. I'm heading out now, boss." Charlie walks out of my office. I shut down my computer, grab my gym bag and follow. Maybe a hard, physical workout will get this girl off my mind.