Hit
There wasn't any rhyme or reason why it hit me in that particular moment.
It was business as usual: wake up alone, shower alone, shave alone, primp alone, dress alone, eat alone, feed the most depressed fish in the world alone, walk to work carrying my coffee… alone. Nothing special about my life whatsoever. I was how it was supposed to be.
It was just a plain, old simple fall day. The journey to work was short since I worked only four blocks away. The views never changed. The people were on their same routine as I was. Busy with their things and their problems. Everything was normal and as it should be. I loved this part of the day. The solitude of the walk. The air in my lungs. The beauty of the changing colors of the season.
Until it hit me.
And not in a way I was entirely welcomed or opened to. In fact, it fucking ruined me.
I was halfway to work when I happened to glance over. The black door opened and the knocker rapt on its brass plate with the force of his strength as he shut the door. He had just come outside from a two-story walkup. It had been for sale for many months after the old man who lived there had died. I toyed with the idea of putting in an offer, but the place was too big for one person and my stupid fish.
But that man.
My brain skipped and I tripped over my feet as I choked on my breath and gagged on air that I had stupidly held in. A truck skidding on ice and blowing into a guardrail and I was sitting on the guardrail was best to describe how the wind had been knocked out of me.
He was neat, but messy. His clothes straight and tucked but his hair was chaotic like a storm gust had just tousled his unruly brownish hair. He hopped down his front steps with a dancer's prance and all the light in the world on his shoulders. The wicked grin, which seemed hidden under his closely trimmed beard, screamed of mischief and mirth. His hands… were huge and manly. They would hold anything down with force, if need be.
And I was entranced.
The few seconds I had watched him was a lifetime of what I had been missing for so long and forever. I slowly stepped out from behind the slim light post I had poorly been hiding behind and followed him. I kept my steps silent; it was difficult with my chunky Docs, but I pretended they were ballet slippers and I walked on marshmallows.
His steps never faltered, his stride brisk and upbeat. This was who he was; I could already feel it and I already craved it.
Slinking my way behind him, far enough back to feel benign, I watched. He waved and greeted people he shouldn't have known yet. It didn't bother him.
I never said hello or chinned an acknowledgment or indicated any form of morning kinship to anyone on my walk. Head down, coffee in hand, all the way to work. That's who I was.
"Hey, neighbor!" The corner deli owner said with a confident and steady nod to the man like he was his best friend. Mr. Hair skated over and shook the food pusher's hand, all natural and brave. They both put their hands on their hips and inspected the day for a moment amongst their chitchat. I inspected the fruit at the grocer's sidewalk stand and side-eyed them. I should have worn black if I would have known I'd be sleuthing.
With a nudge to his pseudo friend's arm, the man walked away. I dropped my apple and continued after him.
He turned left up ahead and I stopped as he skipped threw the glass doors of The Riverplace Times. My place of employment, my safe place before I went home again to my real safe place. This was mine. My work. Mine, mine, mine.
I stowed the gruff of annoyance that this enigmatic man not only threw off my equilibrium but now he's bound to throw my innocuous cubical haven. Work wasn't a big place, and I was so sure he would be creeping over my edges and invading my trains of thought. But I would survive this like I did with everything else. It's what I did. Squaring myself and switching on autopilot, I braved the lobby. He had vanished to the upper levels and I relaxed. I pushed the elevator button.
There was only so much time in my day that I could devote to this distraction. I already knew it spelled trouble. Tanya wouldn't tolerate insubordinate behavior if I let it get out of control. I chewed my lip, going over how to handle this one. It had been so long, I was rusty.
I hadn't noticed the group of coworkers gathered behind me, waiting for their ride. Inching closer to the gold elevator doors, I peeked at the familiar but strange faces of people I knew but didn't through the reflection on the shiny metal. Names I knew, them, not so much. I could practically kiss the doors and urged the car to arrive with my mental superpowers before I panicked. The old thing took forever on busy Monday mornings.
The stairs sounded clearer than waiting on the lift full of anxiety. I bolted with quiet excuses and pardons.
The seventh floor wasn't that high up. I would skip the stair climber at the gym that night.
Rounding the railing to the sixth, huffing and puffing, I pulled out my keys. They kept the floors locked for security. Four more steps, three more, two, one…
I looked up.
Because the cosmos hated me, and because it wouldn't be enough that I'd leave it alone, I made eye contact with the seventh heaven waiting for me.
He pushed off the wall next to the seventh floor sign and rubbed the back of neck like he wasn't ashamed using his crystal blue eyes to get what he wanted.
"I came all the way up here and forgot my pass key." He grinned. Damn it. Fuck this shit. He killed me dead and ruined all of it for me. He tilted his head. "Let me in?"
It wasn't enough that he worked at the same place, but he had to speak to me and asked me, of all the things, to let him in. To do the impossible. Didn't he know how dangerous that was? Sighing, I brushed past him, careful not to touch and unlocked the door. I held the door open without looking at him. I didn't wait for him before I started through the narrow doorway. He smelled like what a man should smell like. Strength and determination with a mixture of soap and idiotic hope.
"Thanks, umm… ahh… Sorry, I'm new. I'm Edward Masen—sales. "
I kept walking. This wasn't good.
"Ma'am? Wait."
Ma'am? Ouch. At thirty, I wasn't a ma'am. Keep going. Don't stop, Bella. You know what will happen if you do.
"Well"—I heard him stop behind me at the Sales department hallway—"thanks for opening the door. See you later."
Not if I can help it.
**no betas, no editing, just writing to get back into the game. **
Next: Break
