Midway through the meeting, when the monotonous drone of the HR representative was too much to bear, I wrote a question for Grayson on the legal pad.
“Why are you ignoring me?”
I tilted the pad so that it encroached on his space and when he cleared his throat, I knew he’d read it. He reached forward and pushed the pad away with a flick of his hand.
I bit down on my bottom lip in anger and then tried again, this time opting for a more declarative approach.
I crossed out “ignoring me” and replaced it with “an asshole”. Then I underlined the new question five times so that’d he’d definitely see it and know how much I meant it.
Without a thought, he reached for the pad and ripped the top page off, crumpling it in his hand. The noise cut through the conference room, interrupting the HR representative so that his sentence about ethics in the workplace was cut short.
“Are we almost done here?” Grayson snapped with a dark tone.
Everyone shifted in their chairs, trying to become invisible so that Grayson’s wrath wouldn’t become directed toward them. I grunted under my breath and shifted away from him.
“Sure, uh, we can finish this up another time,” the HR representative stuttered, closing his binder as quietly and quickly as possible.
“Great. Let’s get back to work,” Grayson said shoving his chair back so hard that it hit the wall.
I gathered my stuff and turned toward the door, keeping my eyes focused on the back of the associate architect walking in front of me. I was the second to last person out of the room thanks to my placement at the front of the conference table, but just as I was about to step out, Grayson reached around me and slammed the door shut.
We were alone.
“Do you have any idea how unprofessional you’re acting right now?” he asked behind me, his breath hot on my neck.
I didn’t turn around.
“Everyone can hear you,” I countered, my eyes focused on the solid wood door.
“You seem to be confused about how things will be with us, so I’ll clarify it for you. I don’t date employees. When I’m at work, I’m focused on my work. You are nothing more than an employee.”
I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, trying to calm my anger. It didn’t work. Nothing would work. I took a step back so that my heel sunk into the toe of his shoe. He didn’t even flinch. One more step brought me against his chest, our hips perfectly aligned. His belt buckle dug into my skin through the fabric of my dress and I reached back to grip the top of his thigh through his suit pants.
Neither one of us moved, but I could see the tendons shifting in his hand as he leaned into the closed door and closer into me. Maybe he didn’t realize he was doing it or maybe… maybe he actually wanted to be closer to me.
I took a breath, slid my hand an inch higher on his thigh, and aimed for the truth.
“For whatever reason, you think you’re doing the right thing by pushing me away. Maybe you’re scared,” I said.
He pulled away from me and laughed under his breath like my statement was ludicrous. The sound made my anger brew over, out of my control. I was insane if I thought I could change Grayson. I had been about to tell him that he was wrong, and that I didn’t want him to stay away anymore. After he laughed, I decided to change gears.
“Or maybe you really are just an asshole,” I said, shoving my elbow back into his ribcage as hard as I could so that he expelled an audible humph. He dropped his hand and hunched over, trying to catch his breath.
I twisted the door handle, pulled open the door, and left him there, feeling good that for once his physical pain was on par with how I was feeling.
…
On Tuesday evening, after the last person had left for the day, I slipped off my heels and pulled on my pink fuzzy socks. Alan had given me another two hours of work to complete, but I was going to do it on my own terms. It wasn’t as good as getting to leave at a decent hour, but at least the socks were comfortable.
I headed into the kitchen and flipped half of the lights on, knowing I’d need a bit of caffeine to get me through the next few hours. While I waited for the coffeemaker to boot up, I ran through my mental checklist of things I should’ve told Grayson the day before in the conference room. He thought I was being unprofessional? He was having booty calls over lunch for God’s sake. Talk about unprofessional. He thought it was funny when I tried to have an honest conversation? The next time he spoke to me, I’d show him just how funny I could be.
I slammed the lid of the coffeemaker down a bit too hard and then crossed my arms, waiting for it to brew.
“Cammie?” a voice called from the hallway. I turned toward the kitchen door just in time to see Grayson appear in the doorway, pausing with a solemn expression when he saw me standing there, brewing coffee. I’d thought everyone had already left for the night, but apparently I’d been wrong.