Ren

TWO-WEEKS LATER

 I take a slow sip of my coffee, gripping the smooth ceramic mug to draw as much heat as possible into my hands. This is my latest attempt to warm up in my new office, which always seems cold. It's the end of a long but exciting week at my new job at Viibe Marketing as the only graphic designer at the largest and most reputable marketing company in the city of Oakmont. It's actually very small.

Well, small compared to the ginormous marketing company I worked for in New York, with three-thousand employees nationwide. Viibe is so proud to be on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings downtown, which has eight stories in total. I used to work on the twenty-first. I'd rather have found a job in San Francisco, but finding any job this year has been tough after the financial crisis. I guess beggars can't be choosers.

I suddenly hear the fast-paced clicking of heels on our grey vinyl tile. My stomach drops out as a fresh wave of adrenaline takes me. My Aussie manager, Cheryl, appears from around the corner. Her black bob haircut is a bit unruly on one side, and more lipstick is on the mug she's holding than on her mouth.

"Lauren, forget about the winery job. I need you to jump on something right away for Best Life," she tells me, frazzled. "Change all the backgrounds from 628 to 629, put the girl back in, and move the typeface back up to the top. We need the font to be bigger and have more punch. The clients want more 'wow' factor. Got it?"

"Yes. Okay." Quickly, I grab a pen and jot down the information.

She blows out a long sigh. "Sorry to keep dumping more things on you today, but this client keeps changing their bloody mind. We need this done by the end of the day for sign-off, alright?"

"No problem," I respond in my most positive and upbeat voice.

"Ta," she says and briskly walks away.

I immediately close down the job I had open on my screen, pull up the Best Life ad I was working on yesterday, and get to work. Once Cheryl is out of earshot, I heave a frustrated sigh. Crap. Forty frantic minutes later, I prepare an email, attach the completed changes, and press send with a satisfying click. Hopefully, she's happy with that, but my souring stomach says I better get out of here before she comes back.

"Hey, Lauren." I hear from across my desk. I look up, midway through packing my things.

It's Bryce, the very nice but very eager-to-make-friends co-worker in Brand Management. His autumn-colored auburn hair, sky-blue eyes, and smile could easily make most girls go crazy. His flirty demeanor has been difficult to resist so far, but I have a thing about dating co-workers. Unfortunately, he's really good at cracking the kind of subtle jokes I like, and he often makes me laugh, even when I try not to. He knows he's charming, and I don't want to encourage him.

"How'd your second week go? Not too crazy, I hope," he says, smiling his dazzling smile.

"It was great. Still learning about the projects and their clients and such, but I think I'll really like it here," I say. My sincerity holds his gaze, and I drop mine.

He leans against my desk while fanning out my Pantone color deck. "Well, it's great having you around." He winks.

A light blush dusts my cheeks. "Thank you. Glad to help out." My eyes flash toward Cheryl's office, remembering my earlier urgency, and abruptly stand, grabbing my bag and jacket. "I actually need to run."

"I'm just leaving too. I'll go with you."

My jaw clenches slightly. Great.

We walk to the elevators together, and he presses the down button for me. "So, you got any exciting weekend plans?"

The elevator immediately rings, and the doors open. I glance over my shoulder, hoping to see one of my other coworkers coming, but the hall is empty. We step inside, and the door slides shut.

"I'm meeting up with someone after work," I say vaguely.

"Oh yeah? Boyfriend?"

Oh, here we go.

"No. An old girlfriend from high school."

"Oh, nice. Did you go to school around here? I thought you were from New York."

"I went to college and lived in New York for a few years. But, I went to Ives High."

"Okay, a West County girl, huh?" He grins, producing two adorable dimples. "I went to Central High." He clears his throat. "Sooo, can I take you out to dinner sometime next week? I'd love to hear more about what it's like working in The Big Apple."

"Um..."

He seems to sense my hesitation, combs his fingers through his hair, and changes tactics. "Sorry, how about just lunch, no pressure, down in the atrium?" he says as the elevator hits ground floor.

We walk out onto the polished granite floor of the building's lobby. A glass ceiling arches above us, and a few tables and chairs are grouped in the middle. It's a busy place at lunchtime and not romantic at all.

"Okay," I say, turning toward him and smiling. "Lunch sounds good."

"Great," he beams back at me, his blue eyes twinkling. "Hey, have a great weekend."

"You too."

He waves, and I watch him walk off toward the parking garage. I stand there for a second. I'm conflicted. Bryce seems to be a genuinely nice guy and pretty freakin' cute to boot. But I don't trust marking guys; they are so good at presenting themselves well and telling you what you want to hear. I should know... my asshole husband worked in marketing. Plus, if it didn't work out, we'd be stuck at work together.

I briefly stop to check if my friend Hannah has texted me where to meet up. I dig around in my bag. Noooo!

I must have left my phone back at the office. Crap! I'm such a basket case today. I had been so frantic trying to leave that I forgot it next to my keyboard.

Here I go, back up again! I re-enter the elevator and go back to the office. I peek around the corner and see Cheryl just hanging up from a call in her glass office. Swiping my phone off my desk, I get out before Cheryl can possibly stop me. Back in the elevator again, I try to text my mom, but there's no signal.

Ding. The elevator stops short to let someone on.

"Come on, come on!" I say, staring at the signal bars on my phone.

I'm getting impatient. Life seems to be testing me this year. All I ever want to do is get to the next thing, but instead, I'm always getting slowed down—going backward. My brows pinch together as I look up from my phone to see who is halting my progress again. I freeze. It can't be.

But this time, it's not my imagination.

It really is him; Giovanni fucking Regali!

I feel a jolt of electric energy as I feel him this close to me again. Another wave of adrenaline courses through me, and my heart is beating dangerously fast. I'm nearly motionless, blinking stupidly at him as he walks straight at me!

But his head is down. His attention is on his phone. Phew, he hasn't noticed me.

He's smiling widely, looking at a text that must have tickled him on his old Nokia phone, and I know that smile. God, I know every inch of him.

My body pulses heat with the thought. I try not to stare at him... but I can't help myself. The doors close, and the elevator descends again. He turns towards the door and starts texting back. A quick reply. He hits send, only to sigh in frustration as he discovers he's lost signal too.

I know that sigh, too, the way a crease will appear between his arched eyebrows.

So much the same...

...but, oh - my - god! So much has changed since he was seventeen.

His hair is still dark sepia brown with a slight curl, making it wavy on top where he's let it grow longer. But his jaw is broader and more chiseled now, with a hint of stubble growing in. His shoulders are broader, and the sleeves of his green button-up dress shirt hug his bicep tightly. Mmm, my body hums at the sight of him.

Warmth again floods through my body as I take him in, and I fight against the pleasant feeling.

Jesus. Stop leering at him! I look away for a second, but right away, my eyes slide back over.

The second button on his shirt is undone, and I can just see a hint of the notch between his collarbones. His peck muscles fill out his shirt nicely. His chest v's in nicely to his waist. His dark black pants... he looks so fit. Wow.

He is standing so close to me that his smell wafts gently over to me. Slightly different (new cologne, maybe), but I still recognize the undertone of him in there, and my body reacts immediately, sending delightful little chills up my spine and down through my arms.

Suddenly, I snap right back under his spell. That attraction I used to feel just by being close to him—it's back—and as strong as ever.

He is... even hotter now. How can that possibly be? He must work out. He must be...(I quickly do the birthday check in my head) twenty-eight now. Damn, twenty-eight looks good on him.

He puts his phone in his pocket and turns his head toward me. I intuit he is about to do this and focus on my phone.

Crap! Will he recognize me? What in the living hell am I going to say to him?!

"The fuck?" quietly escapes his lips.

In another situation, I might have laughed at that, but I'm currently freaking out about what I'm going to say. I am lost for words, just like I always was in high school.

Come on! I can't believe he can still do this to me. I'm not a teenager anymore—I'm almost thirty!

"Lauren?" he gasps as I turn my head slowly towards him. "What the hell are you doing in here?" He sounds amazed... and something else I can't quite decipher.

I look up at him. His gorgeous face is covered in shock, and his staggeringly beautiful hazel eyes pierce into mine, and for a second, I'm completely frozen. Scenes from the last time I saw him flash through my brain. Snap out of it, I scold from somewhere deep in my brain.

"Gio!" His name falls from my lips in a pleasantly surprised tone.

Ha! As if I hadn't just been sizing him up just now for an entire minute.

I brush through my long hair with my fingers. I silently congratulate myself for pulling that tone off. But that feeling only lasts a second as I realize I now have to admit why I'm back.

I look down, tugging slightly on my charcoal pencil skirt. "Um, I work here. I mean, I'm living here again." Then I look back up into his eyes. Those eyes.

"What?" His eyes go wide. "You moved back from New York? When?"

The elevator hits the ground floor with a bit of a jolt, and for a minute, I feel majorly off balance. Or is that just his effect on me? Walking out on wobbly legs, I stop and turn to face him.

"Um, two weeks ago," I manage to produce from my voice box, sounding way more nonchalant than I feel—which is sometimes a very handy talent I possess. "I just started my new job here this week."

"What? What job? Here? Here in this building?" It looks like he's fully in shock now. I'm not sure if his startled tone is positive or negative, but I'll gladly take it over aloof or hostile.

"I work for Viibe on the 7th floor. Do you work here, too?" I give him an easy, friendly smile; but, my heart is on tenterhooks for his reply.

"Oh..." he hesitates like his brain isn't computing properly. "Um... yeah."

"What! That's crazy! Who do you work for?" My head is spinning. I don't know if I'm excited or scared shitless that he is working in the same building as me.

"I, uh, uh... c-counseling," he stammers.

"You do counseling?" I'm floored. That isn't anything close to what Gio was interested in in high school, but so much time has passed since then. What do I know about whom he'd become? "Wow, Gio, good for you."

"Thanks," he says, scratching his neck and looking sheepish. The conversation trails off a bit.

"I—" we both say at the same time.

My heart is going a mile a minute, and I feel flushed, giddy even. I haven't felt like this in years. Get a grip on yourself!

"You go," I say, unsuccessfully trying to curb a nervous laugh.

"Um, I forgot what I was going to say." He pauses, looking me over. "Wow, you look just the same... but better. Um, I mean, good. I mean, you look really good now."

He coughs. "Wow, sorry," rubbing his face with both hands, embarrassed. "I still can't believe I just ran into you... and that you're... back," he says seriously, unsmiling, his eyes diving back into mine.

I momentarily get lost in his eyes, just like I always had, and I'm slightly scared I can't find my way out. The myriad of beautiful greens, golds, and browns mingle together, illuminated by the diffused light of the atrium. Time suddenly bends, and it is just us again, just like we are back in his room at the end of high school as if no time has passed.

And it's like I can see into him—that boy that he was... is still in there.

My phone vibrates in my hand. I totally forgot I was even holding it. Shit, Hannah!

Hannah: You still coming out? I'm here.

"Sorry, Gio. I gotta go. Um, I'd love to catch up... sometime."

"Yeah..." His deep voice trails off.

The moment hangs there as the energy between us zings back and forth. In a split-second decision, I reach up, higher than I ever had to before, and give him a quick hug. My sudden contact takes him aback, and he barely has time to hug me before I release him just as quickly.

"I'll see you around the building, I guess," I shrug with a smile.

"Yeah... I guess."

He still seems slightly paralyzed. So, with the awkwardness ever increasing, I turn and walk away. 

Oh, My God!!!

And just like that, he's back.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

https://youtu.be/aEb5gNsmGJ8