The Gold Dress
By S. Faith, © 2016
Words: 691
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: You know you could make her happy.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not beta-ed.
Notes: Happy birthday, Jess. :)
It was just your luck, really.
Your first real job in London, your first big night at a professional gathering; you're nervous as anything but you're careful not to show it. You've spent far too much on the dress you're wearing, but it's an important night, and you figure you're worth it.
You like your boss, the man you've been working for about eight months now. He's completely professional—a bit of a closed book—and expects excellence of you and the work you do. He doesn't tolerate excuses, but he's also fair, and rewards your loyalty and hard work generously. Such as an invitation to this dinner tonight.
That's when you see her, and your heart stops. You've only met her once, and under less than auspicious circumstances at that, but you can't stop looking at her. You thought she was attractive when you met her before, but now, tonight, she's veritably glowing in a dress of gold satin, her hair swept up off of her shoulders, a glittering necklace of garnet and antiqued gold around her neck. She looks as awkward as you feel, and when she rambles on pointlessly, you can't help but smile in adoration.
It's a terrible position to be in, though; crushing this hard on your boss' girlfriend.
You understand that these dinners are for networking and not for cosy cuddling with your date, but it seems that she doesn't. She's confused and upset, doesn't understand why she's placed on the opposite side of the table from him. When do you see him alone with her, talking to her, his posture is just as stiff and as professional as if he were at work. She looks troubled. Idly, you wonder what he's like outside of working hours. What he's like with her at home. You wonder if he makes her happy.
You think that given the chance, you could make her happy.
When the trivia contest goes horribly wrong for her, you feel terrible for swooping victory out from under her. You wish there were something you could do to make things better. At the end of the night, you see her again waiting to go, wrapped in a coat that looks soft and warm. You tell her it was lovely to see her, and you mean it. Her response tells you her mind is elsewhere. You say goodbye to your boss as well, and you think his mind must be elsewhere, too, because he almost seems friendlier towards you than he's been towards her all evening. You tell him to go home already and have a good night with her, and he smiles a little as you turn away, even if he still seems distracted. Oh. Maybe he hasn't asked her about the trip yet.
You turn once to look back at them. He's still talking with colleagues, and she's still standing there waiting for him, looking almost miserable. You hope at least the surprise minibreak he's planned will make up for it, somehow.
But for a moment, just a moment, you want to run back to her, grab her hand, pull her into your arms and offer to take her away with you. You think about holding her in your arms, pressing your lips to hers, then covering her mouth with yours.
It's a fantasy that persists even after you get home, even though you know it's foolish to not tamp it down immediately. Maybe the wine's gotten to you a little, but you let your thoughts get away from you.
Your dreams are unintentionally cruel. She turns up at your door in her coat, and after you let her in, she opens the coat… and then drops it to the floor. The gold dress is gone.
"I don't know how I didn't see it before," she says to you, then slips her arms around your neck. She presses herself against you, and then just as she's about to kiss you—
You wake up, and then you sigh. Alone in the darkness of your room, just a woman pining after someone she can't have.
Maybe someday you can tell her how you feel.
The end.