The temperature high read 46° today, so I made sure to wear my thick, camel-colored, wool coat before leaving for work this morning. I look down at my snakeskin printed boots as I strut across the sidewalk to the revolving door, hugging my jacket against my body so as to create a barrier of warmth.
I should be used to bumping into him by now, as it seems like a regular occurrence, but I'm still just as shocked when my body collides with his just as I reach the door.
He appears to have been looking at his phone, and I was staring at my feet, a bad habit I should learn to break.
My balance falters for a moment, and I teeter a little to the left. Chris reaches out a hand to steady me, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm.
"Thanks," I say passively, and force myself not to look into his eyes as I turn on my heel and step into the revolving door. I can hear Chris' footsteps behind me as I walk as swiftly as I can to the elevator; although I've been trying to avoid him for a week straight, unfortunately, he's somehow been around anyway.
"We've got to stop meeting like this." He leans down while saying in my ear. His smirk is back, and he presses the number nine as we enter the lift. A group of employees step on, and the doors close with a ding.
"Like what?" I question in a low tone, already knowing what he means.
"Our almost collisions," he replies, full on smiling.
"This time it was an actual collision."
He chuckles to himself.
"You're right," he says and that's all. The rest of the elevator is silent, the most deafening sound, and I rock back and forth on my toes to pass the time. I'm sure I look like an impatient toddler, but I don't care.
The doors open on the ninth floor and the crowded lift empties into the lobby. Chris looks at me, his hazel eyes hauntingly familiar. He wears a Rolex on his left wrist, his cufflinks matching perfectly with the platinum accents in his watch, as he gestures with an open arm towards the lobby, signaling for me to go first.
"I see chivalry isn't dead to you, Christopher Peters," I say, as I step off of the elevator.
I purposefully use his whole name.
He frowns, a crease appearing in between his eyebrows as he cocks his head to the side.
"Well look who's sucking up to the new boss. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from this one for long." I recognize the voice as Avery Woods' immediately.
"Great, she's back," I mumble under my breath as I prepare for the train wreck of a conversation that's bound to happen. "Avery! How was your weekend?" My voice comes out in forced kindness.
Halle and I often refer to Avery as the "Blue Sky Bitch". She's used to getting her way, and has been here for a much longer time than anyone else I know. Because of her seniority, most of the other employees in the marketing department have basically excluded her from meetings, voicing complaints about her controlling nature.
As the lead Copywriter, she holds a vital role at Blue Sky, but her difficult personality sometimes puts a strain on essential workflow.
Chris greets Avery with a handshake and then nods to me before escaping to his office, leaving me as helpless prey.
Her velvet pumps clack across the floor as she prowls towards me, a predator on the move.
"Cut the shit, Vanessa. I know." Avery crosses her arms in front of her.
I start to panic. Know what? I haven't done anything... have I?
As if she's read my mind, she answers my unasked question.
"I know that you and Halle have been conspiring behind my back to take my job," she says, raising her brow.
"What? What are you talking about Avery?" I say as I roll my eyes, relieved somehow, and walk towards my office.
She follows, her gorgeous long legs striding beside me in an attempt to keep up.
"Becca mentioned that Halle did the brief for Hector Rodriguez' ad. That's my job, and I won't be so easily pushed out of it, Vanessa."
I don't have time for this. It's always a petty argument with her.
We reach my office and I take my coat off and place it on the hook.
"No one is trying to take your job, Avery," I sigh as I sit at my desk. My hands find their way to the mouse on my desk automatically, familiar with the routine of checking my email in the mornings.
"Look. All I'm saying is just have her back off, okay? I know I've never been your favorite person, but this job means a lot to me." Avery's confession catches me off-guard.
I look up from my desktop into her brown eyes, her expression giving nothing away. Her long, dark hair is in curls today, and her navy blazer and black dress compliment her tan skin.
We've always been enemies.
Why?
I remember back to when I first started here, Avery was actually a decent person then. I would even go as far as to say that we were friends. Then Halle came and...
I'll admit, when Halle started working here, I kind of stopped speaking to Avery. It wasn't on purpose, I just didn't even think about it.
"Becca has final say in these things, Avery. There's not really anything I can do," I begin. "But I'll make sure you're included in all of the client meetings from now on." I smile at her, hoping that we can put the past three years of hostility behind us.
Something flickers in her eyes, hope maybe?
"That sounds great," she responds coolly.
When she exits my office, I place my fingers on my temples, rubbing them lightly.
My recent encounter with Chris has made a dent in my workday; I know I won't be able to get much done with him lurking around.
Well he does work here. I remind myself.
I sigh, and stand up to close my office door for a little privacy. I'm surprised Halle hasn't stopped by yet, but then again, she's been a little preoccupied by her new boyfriend lately.
Halle spilled the tea to me a couple nights ago, giving me all the details of her evening with Chris' friend, Aaron. He seems nice enough, and Halle seems to be absolutely smitten by him.
I haven't seen her like this since, well, ever.
As I close my door, I catch a glimpse of Chris in his office at the end of the hall.
He paces manically back and forth in front of the window, then takes a seat in one of his armchairs and brings his own fingers to his temples to massage them. He appears to be a little tired, but I try to remind myself that I shouldn't care.
Chris and I are not friends.
We're not anything.
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It seems that both Chris and Vanessa are trying to go their separate ways. How do you feel about this? Happy? Sad? Let me know why in the comments!
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For A Reason
ChickLit"I just thought..." I begin, flustered, not really sure where my words are headed. He shakes his head. "We can't," he states, removing my hand from his. "There are a million reasons why we can't." He runs a hand through his hair, seemingly frustrate...
