I don't break stride until I reach my office and the door and blinds are
safely shut behind me.
What the hell was I thinking?!
I mean, do I really want to go to the Superbowl that bad, even if the seats are on the 50-yard line, or hell, even in the press box?
Who am I kidding? This was never really about the Superbowl. I mean, yeah, it was a little, but once my brain latched onto the idea of Harm and I alone together, rational thinking took an embarrassing dive.
What was I thinking?!
Did I actually believe that the two of us alone in the Big Easy would mean anything? I mean, he's the one who said, "Location doesn't change who we are." The problem is who are we now?
Friends, Yes. Best friends. Something more? I don't think either one of us have figured that out, yet.
Okay, so not entirely true, given what I let slip to Sturgis. I am in love with him. Some days it seems hopelessly so. Some days it just seems hopeless.
I've admitted, to Sturgis and myself anyway, that I'm in love with him. But now what? We've just managed to get ourselves somewhat squared away again, and back into familiar—and welcome—territory.
And then I go and kiss him in the break room for a couple of seats in New Orleans.
Well, and a hotel room—separate from his, of course. Unless, they only have one available. I mean, with the Superbowl, I'm sure nearly all the rooms are booked if they're not already. And if Harm has tickets then surely he has a hotel room already. How would the logistics of all this work? Assuming I've won. How could I not though? I'm pretty sure Sturgis isn't going to kiss Harm.
Although I bet the expression on his face would be priceless. My grin fades as I recall Harm's expression. He didn't even seem…pleased by it. But, then again, I did get the element of surprise on him. I doubt he came into work today thinking he would receive a less-than-platonic kiss from his best friend in the break room all for some Superbowl seats.
I let my head flop down on my desk.
Way to go, Colonel.
********
Wow.
I stare into my coffee, and try to put together what exactly just happened here.
Wow.
I can still feel her warm lips against my cheek. And I thought today was going to be a bad day. First Mac sucking up to me, with her sweet smile and her soft voice, but Mac…Mac kissing me. Here. In the break room. At the office.
She must want to go to the Superbowl really bad.
I didn't think she was that big of a football fan. I mean, yeah, sure she yells at the players on the TV, and sometimes she throws things--a box of Kleenex, a pillow, my Steelers cap I brought as a joke--at the screen, but …
Wow.
I wonder if she'll be like this at the game. Damn. I wish New Orleans was an open stadium. Those seats would be hers in a second, no sucking up required. Not for the opportunity to snuggle together against the cold.
Assuming of course, if I actually had real seats to the game. Given Mac's weak stomach for mach 1+ speed and pulling G's, I'm not so sure she'd be quite so…'persuasive' as she put it if she knew those two seats were in a tomcat.
Damn Sturgis warned me. "Don't be swayed by emotional appeals."
I underestimated Mac.
I suppose I should tell her the truth about the seats.
I stare into my coffee cup as though the answers lay hidden in its murky depths. Instead, the only idea that claws its way through the abyss is one that obviously has been fueled by the emotions Mac's kiss stirred up.
Maybe, she has a few more "persuasions" up her sleeve.
Hmm.
Well, it might do to have her sweat it out a while.
TBC
What the hell was I thinking?!
I mean, do I really want to go to the Superbowl that bad, even if the seats are on the 50-yard line, or hell, even in the press box?
Who am I kidding? This was never really about the Superbowl. I mean, yeah, it was a little, but once my brain latched onto the idea of Harm and I alone together, rational thinking took an embarrassing dive.
What was I thinking?!
Did I actually believe that the two of us alone in the Big Easy would mean anything? I mean, he's the one who said, "Location doesn't change who we are." The problem is who are we now?
Friends, Yes. Best friends. Something more? I don't think either one of us have figured that out, yet.
Okay, so not entirely true, given what I let slip to Sturgis. I am in love with him. Some days it seems hopelessly so. Some days it just seems hopeless.
I've admitted, to Sturgis and myself anyway, that I'm in love with him. But now what? We've just managed to get ourselves somewhat squared away again, and back into familiar—and welcome—territory.
And then I go and kiss him in the break room for a couple of seats in New Orleans.
Well, and a hotel room—separate from his, of course. Unless, they only have one available. I mean, with the Superbowl, I'm sure nearly all the rooms are booked if they're not already. And if Harm has tickets then surely he has a hotel room already. How would the logistics of all this work? Assuming I've won. How could I not though? I'm pretty sure Sturgis isn't going to kiss Harm.
Although I bet the expression on his face would be priceless. My grin fades as I recall Harm's expression. He didn't even seem…pleased by it. But, then again, I did get the element of surprise on him. I doubt he came into work today thinking he would receive a less-than-platonic kiss from his best friend in the break room all for some Superbowl seats.
I let my head flop down on my desk.
Way to go, Colonel.
********
Wow.
I stare into my coffee, and try to put together what exactly just happened here.
Wow.
I can still feel her warm lips against my cheek. And I thought today was going to be a bad day. First Mac sucking up to me, with her sweet smile and her soft voice, but Mac…Mac kissing me. Here. In the break room. At the office.
She must want to go to the Superbowl really bad.
I didn't think she was that big of a football fan. I mean, yeah, sure she yells at the players on the TV, and sometimes she throws things--a box of Kleenex, a pillow, my Steelers cap I brought as a joke--at the screen, but …
Wow.
I wonder if she'll be like this at the game. Damn. I wish New Orleans was an open stadium. Those seats would be hers in a second, no sucking up required. Not for the opportunity to snuggle together against the cold.
Assuming of course, if I actually had real seats to the game. Given Mac's weak stomach for mach 1+ speed and pulling G's, I'm not so sure she'd be quite so…'persuasive' as she put it if she knew those two seats were in a tomcat.
Damn Sturgis warned me. "Don't be swayed by emotional appeals."
I underestimated Mac.
I suppose I should tell her the truth about the seats.
I stare into my coffee cup as though the answers lay hidden in its murky depths. Instead, the only idea that claws its way through the abyss is one that obviously has been fueled by the emotions Mac's kiss stirred up.
Maybe, she has a few more "persuasions" up her sleeve.
Hmm.
Well, it might do to have her sweat it out a while.
TBC