- chapter one: the chocolate croissant -
Waking up this morning, I should have known the day was going to go this way.
It had started with my alarm not going off, of course. I woke up to a flashing 7:30 am on my alarm clock and my brain went into immediate overdrive, trying to figure out how to get me looking reasonably presentable and ready for work in the space of half an hour.
All things considered, I think I did pretty well – showered, dressed in my "slightly-more-effort-than-usual" work outfit (a close-fitting white cashmere jumper tucked into a midi-length brown pencil skirt, complete with my cutest chestnut heeled loafers), and grasping an overflowing KeepCup full of hot vanilla coffee as I slammed the front door of my studio apartment shut on my way out at 8:02, keeping up a slight jog until I was sat safely on my morning train. I had just about enough time to put on some minimal makeup and get my hair into three loose buns down the back of my head before we pulled into my station. I even had time to buy myself a chocolate croissant from my favourite bakery on the way to my office – that is, the offices of First Order Press, the publishing house where I've worked for the past two years.
Unfortunately, that meant that when the new head of Finance I had been forewarned would be starting today was being given his first tour of the office by the Publishing Director for Fiction, during which he would be introduced to everyone on the team, including me, I had approximately half of said chocolate croissant stuffed in my face, and the other half in crumbs down the front of my jumper.
"Erm – Miss Skywalker."
I turn my head slightly, still enjoying a delightful chocolate-and-butter overload, and my eyes meet the unmistakable glare of my boss's boss, Mr Hux. The Publishing Director for Fiction. How a man with such an apparent lack of joy or imagination ended up packaging stories and fairy tales for a living, I'll never know. He's standing next to someone, but I don't have time to take in their appearance as my mind freezes with panic. The new head of Finance is standing behind me, waiting for me to introduce myself, and I look like an unkept chipmunk.
My face begins to heat, cheeks still bulging with pastry.
"Oh – sorry-" It comes out muffled and I curse myself for speaking with my mouth full.
"You'll forgive me for assuming you weren't occupied with anything important."
"Ah ha-" I finally swallow, and, of course, because my life is a complete joke, start coughing violently.
"…Is she OK?" A slightly familiar voice. Deep, warm, like a fireplace. It makes me blush even harder. He hasn't even seen my face and he already knows I'm an idiot.
"I'm so sorry- I'm fine, just, um-"
I frantically brush crumbs from my front and swallow down a mouthful of lukewarm coffee to wash down the pastry stuck in my throat. I glance at my reflection in my monitor – luckily no chocolate smeared on my chin, just a bright pink blush of pure humiliation staining my cheeks – before jumping out of my chair, spinning around, and turning to face my new co-worker with my hand outstretched and the biggest, most (hopefully) charming grin I can muster.
My eyeline meets a broad chest, lightly straining against the confines of an entirely black, clearly expensive, suit. I exhale with a surprised "huff" sound, before slowly craning my neck to meet the gaze of this stranger, this apparent giant with the fireplace voice.
Deep brown eyes bore down into mine, set in a face that reminds me more of a Greek statue than a human man. A strong, straight nose, soft lips, those cheekbones-
I realize with a jolt – I know this man. I'm sure I do. Not the lightly curly and dark shoulder length hair or the expensive suit, perhaps, but those eyes –
"Uh – hello."
I snap out of my trance, blushing even harder. I readjust my outstretched hand to actually be in line with his own and give it my best firm-but-not-too-firm handshake. His fingers swallow mine up (even his hands!), making me feel slightly like a Polly Pocket.
"Ha – hi! I'm so sorry, I promise I do more than scoff pastries at my desk! And that I'm usually a bit more presentable – I'm one of the editorial assistants for Fiction!"
I falter and stop speaking– I still can't place him exactly, so I'm hesitant to mention that I recognize him. Ever since I first met his eyeline, his expression has been one of slight surprise, a hint of confusion, and something else I can't quite identify – perhaps curiosity. Now, he presses his lips together and nods in acknowledgement – but he doesn't smile back. And there is no flash of recognition in his own expression. My stomach drops ever so slightly. Yep, he definitely thinks I'm a complete idiot, and whoever he is, he clearly has no idea who I am.
"Yes, hi – you're, uh, you're fine. Ben Solo, the new head of Finance."
That name. I do know this man.
My stomach drops. Before I can stop my stupid mouth, I'm babbling.
"Yes, I know! From the, ah, the email they sent around about you. But also, from university! I'm Rey Skywalker, we were in Eighteenth Century Literature together!"
He furrows his brow. "Oh, uh-"
"We didn't really, uh, talk that much, or anything, but we-"
His voice turns sharp. "No, sorry. I'm afraid I don't remember you at all. Maybe you're confusing me with someone else."
I bite my bottom lip and drop my eyes to my feet. Of course – why would he remember me?
With my huge vintage jumpers and giant glasses, regularly looking like I'd just rolled out of my bed and into seminars, I blended completely into the background. I didn't have any friends, so I would arrive early and sit in the corner alone, patiently waiting for the professor to arrive while everyone else chatted with one another around me. Why would he remember me?
But of course, I remember him. He would stroll in just before class started in a black fencing team hoodie, sit down exactly opposite me, and write quietly in his notebook until the professor began talking. I was solitary out of rejection, but you could tell he was alone out of choice. Girls would often turn to him with a sly smile, asking him questions I couldn't hear. He would give a blunt one-word answer and get back to his writing, his wrist moving so quickly across the page it was almost a blur.
Of course, I remember him. He always fascinated me. There was just something about him. Quiet, but with something deeper burning under the surface. I wanted to know him. Honestly, I wanted to be his friend.
My heart sinks as I remember. Oh, God.
It's all coming back to me. On the last day of classes, I had plucked up all my courage and had approached him as he finished packing his bag to leave. Everyone else had left in groups, on their way to the pub for celebratory drinks. I was determined to make a friend on my course, and more than that, I was intrigued by Ben. I wanted to know what he was scribbling about so furiously in his notebook every lesson. He was sliding that very black Moleskine notebook into his satchel when his eyes met mine.
"Hi!" I beamed down at him.
"Uh- hi."
"I'm Rey."
"Yeah, I – I'm Ben."
"I know. I was just coming over to ask-"
At that moment, my phone starting ringing – for some reason my ringer was actually on and so my phone's tinny rendition of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer theme echoed around the empty classroom. I let out an embarrassed laugh and held out my phone in front of me to see who was calling. My best friend Finn's face filled the screen – my contact photo for him was from last summer, both of us a tight hug, wearing matching bear onesies and giant grins. His boyfriend Poe had taken the picture, rolling his eyes at us good-naturedly. "I swear, sometimes hanging out with you two is like looking after a couple of hyperactive kids."
I rejected the call from Finn– it was probably just him calling to complain about the new episode of The Great British Bake Off, so could definitely wait – but I noticed Ben's eyes glance down at my phone screen as I did. His lips pressed together slightly, and his brow furrowed.
"Sorry, uh – anyway, I was just coming over to ask if you'd ever want to – I don't know, hang out, get a drink maybe?"
His eyes narrowed slightly – he was looking at me like I'd suddenly started speaking Klingon. "Sorry – you're asking if I will hang out with you?"
"Uh- well yeah. I was- that's what I was thinking."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I watched something come down over his eyes.
"No, thanks." His tone was sharp as a knife.
He slammed his bag closed and got up, pushing past me to the door. My mouth dropped open and a rush of breath left my stomach. My brain couldn't compute his last words, so I just stared after him idiotically.
"'No thanks?'" I finally managed.
"Nope. Not interested. Have a good life."
My face burned. I couldn't believe the sensitive, interesting boy in my mind was actually just a callous jerk. An undercurrent of anger entered my voice.
"Well, OK. Sorry for trying to be friends. No need to be so mean about it."
He froze in the doorway, and I couldn't help but take notice of how he filled it with his broad frame. I saw his knuckles whiten as he clenched the strap of his satchel on his shoulder. His head turned to me slowly, and his next words drove shards of ice straight into my heart.
"Why on earth would I want to be your friend?"
With that, he was gone, and I thanked the stars that I was at least able to wait until he was out of sight before I started crying.
As the memories run through my mind, I slowly realise I never actually let go of Ben's hand. Ben Solo, head of Finance, but also Ben Solo, rude, mean asshole who made me cry in an empty classroom.
Ben Solo, who doesn't even remember me at all, let alone feel guilty for how he humiliated me.
Clenching my jaw, I snatch my hand out of his stupid giant one. I smooth down my skirt primly and make sure to look right into his eyes.
"Well. Perhaps I am getting you mixed up with someone else. The Ben Solo I was thinking of was, honestly, pretty rude and inconsiderate."
Both him and Mr Hux look taken aback. I try not to let my gaze waver.
"Right." Ben's eyes search mine slightly, suddenly seeming worried. Yep, he definitely thinks I'm insane.
"I'm sure you're not like that, Mr Solo."
I think he almost smiles. Almost. "No… Of course not."
My smile is long gone. "Good."
And with that, I sit down and pointedly start opening my emails. I make sure not to look up from my screen as I feel, rather than see, them start to slowly edge away from me, on to the next row of desks, the next load of introductions. I take a victorious bite of what's left of my croissant, itching to tell Finn all about what I would call a fairly successful interaction over lunch later. Just as I'm about to swallow my last bite, I hear it.
"Oh, Rey?"
I jolt back in my chair as I realise Ben Solo has walked back to stand only a few feet away from me, his eyes boring down into mine.
I swallow loudly, sounding like a cartoon character. "Yes?"
He's remembered me, I'm sure of it. My heart starts pounding, and I think it's only partly because of how truly amazing he looks now in that suit and only slightly because of how I can just about make out his scent from here, the smell of sage and honey-
"You don't have to call me Mr Solo. Ben is fine."
I feel my ears burn. Right. He still has no idea who I am. He just thinks I'm some insane assistant at his new office, who he will probably avoid in the hallways whenever possible.
I cross my legs as I turn to face him properly, and I notice his eyes dart down as the slit in my pencil skirt slides up to reveal a hint of my thigh. His eyes quickly return to mine, but I notice a twitch in his jaw.
Interesting.
"I think I'll stick to Mr Solo if that's alright with you. It's what I'm used to with Mr Hux and the other heads of business. I wouldn't want to treat anyone differently, or it could get confusing."
I'm not trying to be his friend anymore, and I want him to know it. My pride is bruised, but this is my chance to be professional and maybe take back a bit of my dignity.
His eyes bore into mine, the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "OK. If that's what would make you feel more- comfortable."
"It really would. Thanks." I pause. "Mr Solo."
"Sure." His eyes soften slightly as he says, "It really was nice to meet you… Rey."
With a final look at me, he turns and makes his way back to where Mr Hux is waiting, glaring at me.
I'm left breathless at my desk, trying to focus on my emails as my brain reels to process the details of that last interaction.
My face is flushed, my heart is racing, and on repeat in my head I can hear that warm, fireplace voice, saying my name…
I slam my face into my cool palms and groan. What the fuck is going on with Ben Solo?