FCKMA

18 - I Make An Impression

The next two weeks, as dull as they were, seemed to fly by. Sometimes when someone is forced into doing the same unpleasant task repeatedly, they lose track of time and think ‘hey, that didn’t take too long’. Of course, that’s only the first few times. Every time after that seems like more of a chore and you find yourself literally counting seconds.

I was so backed up at work that I barely even saw my own roommate anymore. I left the house early and came home late. The only plus side to this entire situation was that Isaac Wilkerson was no longer mad at me. In fact, he had reached a stage I liked to call ‘moderately pleased’, and had allowed me to return to working normal hours. Because of the change in my schedule, I could now go home at six o’clock. That also meant I had more time to spend with my lawyer.

Obviously, I couldn’t afford a lawyer –because I was as broke as hell- nor did I actually need one. What I needed was company, and Connor McAllister could provide me with plenty of it, given that it was within the hours of eight through seven, of course.

I had decided not to sue Jason, the man who I had spilled coffee on and in return shoved me into a table resulting in my injured hip. As much as I wanted to press charges, I hated courtrooms and could hardly follow when my boss gave me explicit instructions, let alone a room full of lawyers arguing about something that involved me and my money.

I stopped by Connor’s office after work, where he was still neck deep in work. I knocked on his door and he looked up. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, and he looked happy to see me.

“Hi,” I said, walking into the office and looking around. There was far too much legal stuff for me to even begin to comprehend. Connor flicked his eyes back down onto his papers.

“It’s Ally, right?” he asked.

I stared at the top of his head -which was the only part of him I could see, as his nose was in a pile of files- unsure if he was kidding. I know it had been two weeks, but he couldn’t have forgotten me already, could he? He was almost the only thing I had thought about. Because you’re desperate, my mind reminded me. I nodded in agreement with myself. Oh, right.

“Yes, that would be me,” I said. He waved me into the room. I walked in carefully, sure that I was unwelcome here. Now that I thought back at the scene at the coffee shop, I possibly misread Connor’s signals. He probably assumed I was here to hire him.

He used the hand that had waved me in to direct me towards a chair. “You can sit,” he instructed. I looked around, unsure of what was happening. “Ah, but could you close the door first?” he asked me. I turned around, presumably off balance, and closed the door like he asked. Then I walked forward and sat in the chair by his desk.

I folded my hands in my lap and stretched them forward so that I squeezed them between my knees in anxiety. Then, in one fluid motion, Connor swept his file folders aside neatly towards the other side of his desk and folded his arms to lean forward and face me. “Now, why haven’t you called me?” he asked.

Still intimidated by that masterful arm agility he had presented, I was alarmed that he had spoken to me. “W-what?” I stuttered.

“I believe I gave you my card, which had my number on it,” he said. “I was trying to be subtle but now I can openly tell you that you were supposed to call me.”

“Well, I decided not to press charges against Jason, so I just assumed that calling you wouldn’t be necessary if I wasn’t going to use your business,” I said. Connor pursed his lips like he was agitated with me, but I found it extremely attractive. His attempt at trying to daunt me wasn’t going to work. My eyes had fixated on his lips. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.