Without pausing, without a wave or a smile, Jem turned and left.
My door made a soft, final click as she closed it.
CHATPER 25
I slept hard and had strange dreams.
The dreams were the troubling kind where I thought the action and events were genuine while asleep; upon waking and in retrospect I realized they were obviously completely implausible.
The one I remembered most intensely upon waking was about losing my teeth. The fragments of bone continually fell out of my mouth every time I opened it to speak; and they ran away- though they had no legs- which, in the dream, sent me into a panic.
There is nothing quite like watching one’s own legless teeth running away.
Tourists kept accidentally stepping on my teeth. I was forced to chase my molars and canines down Michigan Avenue while dodging black-socked sightseers in shorts, white Keds, and rainbow visors. When my alarm went off I actually ran my tongue over the back of my teeth to make sure they were all still present, in my mouth, and securely situated.
By the time I arrived at work and greeted Keira at the front desk, the last miens of my dental-nightmare had almost completely dispersed. However, a lingering sense of disquiet and a completely irrational foreboding remained. My chest felt tight, heavy, and uncomfortable, like I had some terrible combination of bronchitis and gastroenteritis.
During the short walk down the hall to my office, and as was typical, instead of dwelling on my increasingly complex feelings for Quinn or the unpleasant altercation with my sister, my mind ambled. I wondered about and made a mental note to check on the content of carpet fibers, more precisely: what made the current generation of carpet stain resistant? Were eco-friendly approaches to carpet manufacturing currently the norm? What country could claim the title as leader in office-carpet exports?
Still studying the carpet, I opened the closed door to my office and was startled out of my floor-focus by the presence of unexpected company.
Olivia was inside my office standing behind my desk. Her back was stiff and her eyes were wide as they met mine, her hand flew to her chest and she sucked in a loud breath.
I hesitated, frowned, glanced at the name outside the office to ensure I had the right door. When I confirmed that it was, indeed, my office and she was, indeed, in my office, I returned my gaze to her and waited for an explanation.
A protracted period of time stretched and we silently eyeballed each other. She looked very well assembled- as typical- and, even though I was the one to find her unexpectedly in my office, with the door closed, she appeared to be waiting for me to explain my presence.
I waited two beats longer then lifted my eyebrows, my chin dipped. “Well?”
“Can I help you?” Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her hip against my desk.
I blinked at her and wondered momentarily if I were still dreaming. “What are you doing in my office?”
“It’s not your office, it doesn’t belong to you, it’s the company’s office.” She huffed.
She actually huffed.
It was a breathy sound, over exaggerated, combined with a bit of an exhale-snort.
I crossed my arms, mimicking her stance, mostly to hide the fact that my hands were clenched in fists. “Olivia. What are you doing in the office which has been assigned to me by the company, with all my papers and confidential reports, with the door closed?”
She raised a single, impressively well-groomed eyebrow, “I’m looking for the updated schematic of the Las Vegas space.”
I shook my head, “It hasn’t been sent to us by the group in Las Vegas yet; they said they would email it by Friday.”
“Oh. Well, then, just send it over to me when you get it. No one can move forward with the new plans until you send it to the group.” Olivia’s tone and manner were so flippant that I almost actually felt like it was my fault that the client hadn’t yet sent the schematic.
I clenched my jaw, “As soon as I receive it from the client I will distribute it to group.”
Olivia issued me a tight-lipped non-smile and moved passed me into the hallway without any further remark.
What. The. Hell…?
Somewhat grudgingly rooted in place, uncertain whether I wanted to push the issue by hall heckling her or just simply mope somberly, I watched her retreating form as she left; her steps hurried, her pace almost road-runner frantic. Then, shaking myself, I eye-rolled all the way into my office and heaved a gigantic sigh; I recognized that my earlier uneasiness had been replaced- or, more accurately, substituted- with immense irritation.
As I approached my desk I glanced at its contents; all the papers and folders were neatly stacked into piles, organized, just as I’d left them yesterday. I checked the drawers and found that they were still locked. My desktop PC was also locked. If she’d been looking for something in particular I could see no outward sign that anything had been rummaged or disturbed.