OLIVE
* * *
“Mr. Precio, I am very much obliged and embarrassed. You’ve shown me a great kindness yesterday and I…”
No, too formal.
“Thank you for fake kissing me yesterday. And for the chocolate.”
Eeuck. Too desperate.
I’m waiting for Ignacio in his office as instructed when I arrived at work early. I’m told he’s running a few minutes late, so I’m taking the opportunity to practice what I’ll say to him so he doesn’t think I’m a psycho nymph.
After the fake kiss yesterday, all I wanted was to curl into a ball of shame and never show my face to the male population ever again. Boy, did I ever screw up.
It’s like I’m doing everything in my power to get fired from all the jobs in Los Angeles at record-breaking levels of chaos.
Note to self: tip the busboy a little extra for the soda pop clean up on table thirteen. Ugh!
And then Ignacio did me a favor, making it extremely clear it was all for show. And what did I do? Cling to him like a spider monkey.
Way to play it cool, Olive.
“Thank you for your kindness yesterday. I’d like to offer my appreciation.”
I repeat that one a few times—let my mouth get used to the words.
“…offer my appreciation for… sticking it to my ex? Not firing me? Chocolate smooches?”
I’m roused by the opening of the door, and there’s Ignacio, looking fresh with his hair perfectly tousled. He halts in the doorway, gaping at me like he’d forgotten about our meeting. His eyes fix on mine, and I feel all the effects of his overbearing presence. I stare right back, throat so dry it’s almost painful. And my gaze dips to his mouth for one second—the tiny scar on his lower lip reminding me of the feel of him.
“Thank you for your appreciation,” I blurt.
His aforementioned lips tug at the corner and for a minuscule moment, he lets his gaze rake over my form.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“I mean… thank you for your kindness. I appreciate it.”
Gah!
A shadow passes over his features and he shifts his eyes to the floor.
“Is it okay if I close the door?” he asks.
Yes. You may absolutely close us in this office alone where I will definitely not maul you.
“Sure,” I say, hoping to God Almighty, I did not let the ‘maul you’ part slip out.
Instead of taking his usual place behind the desk, Ignacio leans against the wall and crosses his arms.
“I want to assure you there will be no repeat of yesterday’s… overtures,” he says.
My heart drops. Why does this feel like someone’s breaking up with me? Stupid heart.
“Of course,” I reply. “I… couldn’t agree more. That was a one-off. Noooo more overtures. That’s exactly what I was about to say.” I chuckle nervously. “You beat me to it, boss.”
Would it be awkward to give him a friendly slug in the arm? I think probably yes.