Chapter 25: Little Things

I had to thank the heavens that the boss wasn't in the building on Thursday. Thoughts were raging over him that entire day, and I needed the distance to prevent me from engaging in even more mental foolishness.

Come Friday morning, I was walking to my cube, fearful of what this brand new day could throw my way knowing that he was going to be around.

"Oh shoot! And I was hoping you were going to walk in today with the same glow you had yesterday morning," Renee pouted as she was exiting Chris's office.

Chris suddenly stuck his head out and peered at my face with an evil grin. "Did you get laid on Wednesday night?"

"No!" I whispered loudly with embarrassment.

The two were giggling at my flustered trot back to my desk. They were so sneaky, I knew that they were giving me looks of suspicion yesterday, but I thought they were going to let it die.

Was it that obvious that I... umm let go of some tension?

I scurried away from them and hid in my cube to escape their teasing. I was still reeling from Thursday's overall high, but that was only easy to do when I ignored the fact that there were no real attachments in the imagination.

I put my purse down and began to chicken peck at my password when I heard my phone pulse twice. I dug into my purse and pulled out my phone to find a text message from Andre.

So you're just ignoring me now?

My eyes were open wide, and I swiped around to find two missed texts and phonecalls. It didn't cross my mind to glance at my phone after silencing the alarm that got me up, hours ago.

Instinct told me to immediately respond, but then I stopped and thought long and hard about what would come of that. My phone went right back into my purse and I pressed my lips into a thin line, reassuring myself that my decision not to respond was not petty.

I knew what would happen to me if I waited all day to hear back from him after responding to a text like that. With another round of pulses, I quickly checked it only to be relieved that it was a random promotional email.

My day had barely begun and I was already approaching the edge. I hunched over my desk, pressed the top of my phone to my forehead and chanted, "Be proactive, not reactive."

Don't regret anything.

My thoughts were immediately interrupted by subtle knocks on my cube wall. I swiveled around in my chair and was surprised to see a face that wasn't Renee's or Chris's.

"Good morning, sir," I quietly greeted, eyes still enormous from surprise.

His eyes flashed over me entirely before he looked away and nodded, "Good morning, Ms. Young."

I was beginning to feel warm, remembering our last encounter.

But I ran away from you.

"When you have a free moment, I'd like to discuss the Willoughby account. We must circle back around to working on it as soon as possible," he announced.

With haste, I nodded, "Yes, yes."

He turned his head to the side at my jumpy response and began, "Ms. Young is everything–"

The abrupt vibrations in my hands made me jump, before I disposed of it back into my purse.

Text from Andre.

I swiftly collected myself during a long blink, "I'm so sorry. Could you please repeat what you were going to say?"

His chin had lifted up as he glared at me, "How has your morning been thus far?"

I forced a smile and shrugged. "It's been fine. Really."

"Meet me in my office as soon as you have caught up with your work," he muttered, and I could tell he wasn't convinced by his quick exit.

*

"How are you?" the boss asked as soon as I sat down in the spare seat.

I nodded, as a response, a little nervous for a number of reasons.

Is it because of our last meeting or because I still think this account is going to be the end of me?

He let out a deep sigh before beginning, "How do you feel about merging back into the Willoughby account again?"

How do I feel?

"To be frank, I'm very nervous about it." I shrugged

"I understand, but do remember what I told you before, Ms. Young."

"You're going to be working closely by my side, and that means I intend to be working you very hard..."

I snapped from my reverie and inquired, "Is this client really that much different than most others?"

"Habits are similar, but his pockets are deeper. So, what I will need for you to do is to collect data points from the charts I gave you and compare them with this past month's cycle."

"Sounds simple enough," I chirped with a big smile.

Ezra tilted his head down to hide his own and continued, "And all of the history collected will need to be input into the system... manually."

My jaw dropped.

Five years worth of data manually added?

I put my hand up, "Not that I am complaining about my task, but isn't there a more efficient... automated way to migrate Willoughby's previous information into our system."

"Into our very outdated system?" he regretfully corrected with a high brow.

I smirked and vocalized my sudden realization, "Which is why you are planning to purchase Reagan Digital Group."

"Precisely," he admitted with more spirit. "But until then, the information would have to be put in by hand."

I lifted mine up again, and I carefully suggested, "Or... I could create a migration script in the interim that could be used for the time being?"

His expression morphed into surprise, "You could do that?"

I scoffed, "Hell yeah... if I was allowed to obtain a random shot of the current database view to test it out."

Ezra's thoughts appeared scattered as his attention wandered around his desk, "Wow, umm... I will have to collect the updated server information from the CIO but I would really like to commence this project as soon as possible."

I folded my hands in my lap and tried to contain my excitement. What he said to me yesterday already meant a lot, but to really see the actions match his words sincerely made me happy.

With fervor, Ezra was already typing an email to the CIO. I observed him dead on, wondering who it was that I was really talking to.

Ezra or Mr. Leoné?

He was still typing furiously when he said, "Ada, I realize that there is a chance you might find yourself working overtime."

I didn't respond, as I was shocked that a slip up would stir immediate feelings.

His fingers paused over the keyboard and he wasn't reading over his draft; he had surely realized what he did.

Yeah, you called me 'Ada'...

He swallowed hard before saying, "My apologies for–"

"It's alright," I softly reassured him.

It was fine, but I couldn't look at him. My hands were folded in my lap and I pondered on how us using a first name basis could instantly change the atmosphere of the room.

A slight flush was present on a stern face, "As I was saying... you will be properly compensated for the work you do for testing this migration project and for any Willoughby account time spent outside of regular business hours."

"Oh. Thank you," I answered with slight surprise.

He finally turned away from they computer, his eyes on the top of his desk, "And since we will be working more closely with one another–"

He was cut short by my sudden reaction to my phone going off in my pocket.

I scrambled to pull it from my pocket to silence it, when I noticed that the phone call was coming from the person I had been avoiding.

Without hesitation, I ended the call and shoved it back into my pocket.

What is Andre doing?

I wasn't so quick to hide the irritation on my face, but when I returned my attention to Ezra, I put on a friendly face.

He looked suspicious, "If you need to–"

"I don't. It wasn't important whatsoever," I interjected, with a faux smile.

He was quiet; he was surveying me and my lie. Naturally, I tucked in my lower lip and my eyes shifted away from him.

He grumbled, "Alright... But as I was meaning to say before... it is only logical that I have your number on hand."

What? Actually... It's not a big deal at all.

But then I felt like it was. There was something about Ezra having my number in his phone that sent my stomach in a twist. Yet, of course I nodded to agree with his logic.

This is a business relationship.

Ezra offered lunch, but I had to decline to make a phone call. The look on his face appeared as though he was dying to ask a slew of questions. His quiet reaction was expected, but couldn't explain anything to him.

*

I stomped from the elevator and pushed through the doors with my phone to my ear.

"Andre? What are you doing?!" I barked as soon as he answered.

He snapped back, "You were ignoring me or nah though?"

"I didn't see your messages last night and now I'm at work... so nahhhh," I retorted.

He scoffed with humor, "You real quick to clap back now."

I wasn't amused. "Cause we're not together? You aren't giving me any room to fucking breathe? You have been blowing up my phone all day today? You haven't bothered to ask for forgiveness after eight years?"

Apparently, Andre wasn't amused either seeing as to how the call abruptly ended after that.

Seriously, just fuck off, if you're going to be that way.

I crossed my arms and decided that a brief walk for a few blocks would do my head some good. For the first two blocks, I was okay. Anger was winning over hurt in my internal battle. But it wasn't until I remembered my last question to him that I felt a few warm streams making headway down my face.

He kissed me, put his coat around me, acted like he gave a shit about my well-being and the fact that I'm living alone, but not once did he say he was sorry for leaving us the way that he did.

I'm so over this shit.

I felt a sudden vibration and checked my phone.

"Is this a joke?" I complained to myself, seeing Andre's text.

"Listen... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, so don't do anything drastic please."

My brows immediately wrinkled.

What is he talking about?

"I don't... I don't have the time," I huffed aloud before turning on my heels and returning to work.

As I was approaching the building, my pace slowed down. I shoved my phone into my pant pocket and put my hands behind my back, nearing the man at the top of the steps.

Ezra had been watching me from the moment I could spot him about half a block away. I was quick to notice that he was without his suit jacket.

Lavender is definitely your color.

His hands were in his pockets, until one slipped out and quickly ran down and stroked his tie.

What are you thinking?

I landed on the top step and sighed, "Enjoying the sun?"

"I am," he leisurely nodded.

His eyes continued to follow me, when I took a stand beside him and wondered, "You also waiting for your lunch?"

Ezra turned his gaze out to the street and confessed similarly, "I am."

"Then, I shall leaveth you be," I chimed with a brief smile he couldn't even see.

His next question came out of the blue. "You don't want to wait for your food either?"

"You didn't have to do that," I muttered in slight surprise.

He bit his bottom lip before turning to me and disagreeing, "I think I do."

My eyes were stuck on him with a slight tilt of the head as I cross-examined his expression and words. Ezra squared his shoulders with mine and I unconsciously took note of his relaxed stance– both hands hidden once again.

What are you really trying to say?

But then I was taken by surprise when I caught glimpse of their soft undersides.

"Ada," he called, and my attention was immediately his. "I'm sorry."