I try to lose myself in the article like I did yesterday, but I can't. Yesterday I used Chance and my fantasies about him to finish the article. If I do that today, I'm afraid that my brain will go down a path that I can't come back from.
I start on the article, and it goes okay. It doesn't flow the way the first one did, though. I get more coffee and try again. Usually when I'm having trouble writing a blog post, I leave it for a couple of days and come back. Or I take a few hours off and focus on other things. Here in the office I can't really do that. I should find a few diversions to keep here for when I need a break. I've never worked in an office like this before, but I don't think anyone could just write for eight hours straight.
Before I know it, it's five o'clock, and I'm still not done with the piece. For whatever reason, I can't find a good way to finish. I've gotten through most of it, but I'm not sure what to say about ending a date. There are so many variables, all based on how the date went, how attracted you are to the person, what kind of vibe you get from them. Dealing with all of the variables would make the article way too long and boring, but I can't just skip the end of the night.
I'm stuck.
I don't want to give up, but when I look up, an hour has gone by and I haven't written anything else. I may just have to tell Chance that I need the night to think about the ending. But I'll give it a few more minutes. Maybe there's some hope that inspiration is just around the corner.
I swivel in my chair and look at the evening view. This time of summer the sun is still pretty high in the sky, but the city is glowing with the fading light. It's reflecting off windows in shades of bronze and gold, and all of downtown Manhattan is sparkling.
"You're still here."
Chance's voice surprises me for the second time today, and I swivel around to see him. "Yeah. I'm having trouble ending the article. There's just … a lot to think about when ending a first date."
He leans against the door frame like it was put there just so he could. "That's okay. The one article per day thing was just an idea. You can take as much time as you need. You could even work on more than one at a time if that works better for you."
"Okay," I say, running a hand across my face. "I'm at least going to take the night to think about how it should end."
He nods. "Most people have left for the day. Care for a drink?"
I look at him, and I don't know what I'm talking about. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Chance pauses, and the air between us goes taut, both of us thinking about the unsaid things in the room. "Just a drink. I've got a stash I save for special days, and I can show you the best part about this building."
"All right," I say. "Just a drink?"
"Just a drink."
I make sure to save my progress before I follow him out the door.
When you're on the ground in Manhattan, you never really think about the roofs of buildings. But they exist, and I don't know if they're all like this one, but the one that Chance just led me to is fucking beautiful. There's nothing up here but open air, and a couple of chairs which clearly don't belong up here.
Chance grabbed a bottle and two glasses before he led me to the stairs, and he sits in one of the chairs and pours us each a drink. I take the other chair, and lean back, taking in the same view as my office but bigger, better. With the wind in my hair and the fading sun on my skin it's positively glorious. "You come up here often?" I ask.
"Not as often as I'd like," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "But this is where I come when I need some inspiration. It sounded like you could use some."
"That's really sweet of you."
He gives me a half-smile, "I try to give my employees the tools they need to do their jobs well."
"I appreciate that. I want to do well. Like I said yesterday, I don't exactly have the best history, and I think I could actually be good at this."
Chance laughs. "You're already good at this, Caroline. I never would have thought to frame the one-night stand article through the lens of a couple in that way."
I blush instantly. "That … just came to me."
"Is that look because it's a story from personal experience?"
"No," I say, laughing. "Not actual personal experience. Just something that I wished would happen."
"Ah. I see."
"Yeah."
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, cradling his glass in front of him. "I guess I assumed because of your blog-are you single?"
"Are you asking me that out of pure curiosity or for another reason?"
He doesn't meet my eyes. "Would it matter?"
I knock back the drink he's given me in one go, savoring the burn. "I've worked here officially for not even a day, and I was already told that you have a strict no dating policy. I don't want to ruin this opportunity by jumping into bed with the boss. Even if the boss is all I can seem to think about."
He glances up at that, and gives me a wicked little smirk. "There are lots of places beside beds that I can think of."
"Mr. Montgomery-"
"Chance."
"Chance," I repeat after him, and it feels good to say his name. "What about your policy?"
He finishes his drink. "You're right. I have had that policy. It's easier in some ways, because you don't have to worry about having exes in the office, and you don't have to worry about employees flirting with you. Especially when you don't know if they're flirting with you for you or because they're trying to get ahead with their career."
I notice that he's leaned closer to me, and I can't help but match his progress, leaning closer toward him. "Then this can't happen," I say. "No matter if we want it to."
"You know when I stumbled on your blog, I loved your voice. I thought the way that you wrote things was funny and clever and vibrant." I blush at his words, but he doesn't stop. "And then you walked into my office, and you were … not what I was expecting. I don't even know what I was expecting, but you were beautiful and adorably clumsy and you have this talent and it's been all I can do not to kiss you every time I'm close enough."
He's moved closer again, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes. "You're close enough now," I say.
"Yes I am."
"But this is a bad idea."
He nods. "It probably is." And then he kisses me. It's everything I was hoping for and more. It's pure light and I feel like I'm on an updraft and never going to come down. I'm fizzing with it like a glass of champagne and his lips are perfect and oh God. I'm kissing Chance, and I swore that I wouldn't. I swore.
I pull away. "I'm sorry. We can't. I don't want to risk this."
He doesn't say anything, but his hand finds its way to the back of my neck and he pulls me back to him. Our lips meet again, and there's only so much that that I can resist. I feel my body give in before my mind, and then I let go because this is by far the best kiss I've ever had.
"You're sure this is all right?" I ask against his lips.
His voice is a growl. "This is more than all right. This is perfect."
I'm in his lap somehow, like we came together and I didn't even notice. The way I'm straddling him, I can feel he's hard, and I'm thinking the rumors about how big he is are true. "The article," I say, breathless. "Even though I'm going to write about how to go home with someone if you want to, I usually don't. I rarely have sex with someone unless I've been out with them a few times. Never this fast."
His hand is still firmly planted behind my neck, and his thumb caresses my collarbone. "How far do you want this to go right now?"
"There's what I should say," I bite my lip, "and what I actually want."
"You think that you should say to stop."
I nod.
"Let me tell you a secret that I've learned watching people getting together and breaking up and getting together again." He pulls my mouth to his. "It's always better to admit what you want."
And then he's kissing me again, and I moan because it's perfect. I do want him. I want him with that wild, animal instinct that made me almost fall over when I walked into his office. I want him because he's given me everything I could want. I want him because I know that as long as I'm around him, I'll always want him, and I'll always wonder what it would be like. It was going to happen. I can feel the certainty of it between our lips, and in the way his fingers start unbuttoning my shirt.