“No, Celia, that’s not it at all.” He reaches for me again, and this time I don’t have the energy to push him off or back away. I let him wrap his hands around my shoulders, strong and steadying. Even now, furious as I am at him, his touch feels reassuring, safe somehow. It makes me angrier than ever, knowing he still has that effect on me, even though he shouldn’t.
“Then explain it to me,” I whisper, tilting my head up so I can see as much of his face as possible in the dim light.
He reaches one hand up to brush stray strands of hair back from my forehead. The wind is stronger down here on the beach, and it’s worked its wildness into my hair, blowing it every which way as I ran up the beach away from the party. Away from everyone. Away from him. When he’s finished brushing my hair back, he leaves his hand cupped against my cheek. His thumb catches a stray tear, and he brushes it away. “Celia, I…” He takes a deep breath. “I found your fanfiction.”
Whatever I thought he was about to say, it wasn’t that. My heart sinks straight through my stomach and into the ground. “Oh, no…” I start to back away, but he tightens his grasp on me.
“No, it’s okay. It was my fault. I was working late one night, and I was trying to find something I emailed to you, but I accidentally deleted it from my sent folder. I turned on your monitor thinking I could just grab it from your recent messages, and the fanfiction was open on your screen.” He winces a little, teeth a flash of white in the growing starlight. “I shouldn’t have snooped, I know that. But once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. Celia, you’re a really good writer.”
I laugh, and it comes out choked and teary.
“Not to mention, you have a dirty as hell mind.” He smirks.
I manage a watery smile in return.
“From the moment you first walked into my office, I had a crush on you,” he says, and my heart leaps back out of the floor into my chest with a thud. “I didn’t think you were interested in me in the same way, though. I never saw any indication from you of anything like that.”
My jaw drops open. He liked me? All along he liked me?
“I… I started following your account. On the fanfic site where you write. I’d read every new thing you posted.”
Now my face flares hot again, as embarrassment floods me. Oh God. I would have written things differently if I’d known he was reading. But then… isn’t it better I didn’t edit myself? That he knows what my deepest fantasies are now? “Did… did you…?”
“Jerk off to them?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh hell yes, Celia. All the damn time. The things you’d imagine me doing to you… Fuck, I wanted those stories to be real. I wanted to do all those things to you and more.”
My lips part just a little in shock, as I study him in the dark. “But you never said,” I whisper.
“I’m your boss,” he points out. “I couldn’t exactly just make a move on you. It wouldn’t have been proper.” He cocks his head to one side, and I can feel rather than see the way his eyebrow must be lifted in sarcasm right now. “And I also knew, with equal certainty, that you were too shy to ever make a move on your own. Weren’t you?”
I swallow hard and let out a slow sigh. “Probably.” I did spend an entire year just wasting away in fantasy land after all, didn’t I?
“So…” He shrugs, and spreads his hands wide, gesturing around us. At the beach, the waves. The falling night, the distant bonfire and music. The hotel on the cliff high above us here. Everything. “I thought if I could convince you to spend time with me outside of work, with a good enough excuse for why you didn’t need to stick to the rules of office propriety anymore, then maybe that dirty girl from your fantasies would come out to play.” He steps closer, until he’s just an inch away from me, warm heat radiating from his chest, from his arms where they encircle me. “I thought maybe you’d relax this weekend. Come out of your shell.” His smile deepens. “Come in general, a lot.”
I huff out another laugh, this one much breathier than the first.
“Was I wrong?” he asks, head tilted to one side.
I suck in a deep breath. My tears are gone, replaced by… well. So many feelings I’m not even sure which ones to focus on. Happiness. Giddiness, really. But he still lied to me. He still manipulated me, even if it was to get me to come out of the shy shell I have myself constantly trapped inside.