Taking a deep breath, I calm my thoughts. I can’t avoid him forever. If worse comes to worst, and it goes to shit, I’ll go hide in my office with the door locked until it's time to go home.
I slide into that boss babe mindset and strut over to Weston’s desk.
“Good Morning, Weston.”
A shriek escapes his lips as he whips around to look at me in confusion. A whispered “What in the ever living hell,” comes from his lips and I almost smile. Mission accomplished.
Weston: zero, Wynter: one. Not that I’m keeping track or anything.
I stand, patiently waiting to capture his wandering eyes again. “Wynter… aren’t you a barrel of delightful things this morning. What’s up with the pastries? You’re normally tucked in your office with the door closed, working away on edits with a do not disturb sign firmly in place. Today you’re parading around free drinks and food like a hostess…” He looks around, voice hushed, “It’s kind of freaking people out.”
“Huh, well I only wanted to say hello.” My tone is unusually chipper. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. This new Wynter is confusing as hell.
His eyes narrow, judging me. “What in the world are you up to?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“And why the fuck are you calling me by my first name? In the months you’ve worked here, you’ve never called me Weston. Did you fall and whack your head on that run this morning? Maybe you should go see a doctor”
I assume what I hope is a casual position when I lean up against his desk on my hip and cross my legs. His eyes roam up and down my legs and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, more than likely remembering our bar bathroom romp.
“Nothing. Nothing at all is wrong with me. I'm having a splendid morning and decided to be nice by grabbing breakfast for everyone. Have you gotten any yet?”
“Um, no.” He gives me a crazed look of confusion like I’m crazy.
“Well, then let me go grab you some. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, then. That’s nice of you, Wynter.” I smirk at him as I walk away. His face lit with intrigue and horror. A chuckle sneaks out... silly boy.
Grabbing a coffee in the break room, I debate being a complete bitch and adding a hint of salt to his coffee instead of sugar, but I decide against it.
Be nice, Wynter,I remind myself.
Picking up some creamer, sugar packets, and a chocolate croissant, I make my way back to Weston. “Here you go. I wasn’t sure if you liked cream or sugar with your coffee, so I brought you both.”
“Thank… you,” he replies, but it’s almost like he isn’t sure what universe I’ve landed on. He opens his lid and takes a sniff, eyeing me suspiciously, before taking a small sip. He grimaces like he’s waiting for an awful taste and when one doesn’t present itself he smiles up at me. “This is good, Wynter.”
“Were you expecting anything less?”
“No… it’s... Are you sure you’re okay today? You’re being strange this morning.”
I chuckle. “Yes, I am one hundred percent ok. Look, I woke up in an excellent mood and thought I’d share it with the office.”
“I hate to say this, but…” He leans over and whispers, “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird. This is probably not what you want to hear, but I kind of expected you to go all Jim Jones and purple Kool-Aid us with your coffee bringing. I mean you’re nice to people, yes, but you never let anyone know the real you.”
I suck in a lung full of breath, shocked.
Wow, people really think that about me? Am I really that cold?
The smile crossing my face drops and I feel a knife with the sharpest tip slicing its way through my heart over my reputation around the office. Now that I think about it, what he says makes sense. These people act like family to each other, but act completely different around me. They don’t make eye contact or they’re quick to leave my office after a meeting. Maybe I’ve just been oblivious to the fact that working at The Avant Garde is more than editing and doing a job.
“Hey, it’s okay.” His words hit my ears and I just look at him like I’m completely and utterly lost. It’s how I feel. Had I let these people down by never interacting with them outside of a yes or no answer for their story idea?
“It’s not okay.” A piece of my red hair falls across my face and I watch as he reaches up to push it behind my ear. I stare at him a little longer, each of us lost in words. His golden hazel eyes are locked on me and I can’t help but take in how gorgeous they are up close. I watch as his hand never moves away from the strand of hair he’d pushed behind my ear and my body remembers the feel of his touch and how much I enjoy having his hands on me. Subconsciously, I guess I’ve known that I’d like his touch, but still…
My breath is stilted as my heart pounds an erratic beat against the wall of my chest cavity. It’s hard to create thoughts being this close to him, his cologne suppressing my lungs. His hand touches any part of my body and all conscious decisions disappear. I react before my heart and brain can catch up, needing to get away. His hand trails down my face and I jerk.
I’m at work and people are staring. The last thing I want is rumors flying around about whatever is truly going on between the two of us. Heaven forbid they ever found out I’d had sex with one of my columnists.