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“Millie! Hey, let me help you with that!” I hear Mark say as he grabs the box, I was struggling to get it out of the car. Did it gain weight on the drive here? I got it in the car just fine this morning.
“I got it!” I snap way more forcefully than intended.
He jumps back a step or two but doesn’t let go of the box.
“Sorry,” I say, struggling to meet his eyes. “Asking for and accepting help aren’t exactly my biggest strengths.”
“You are a Jacobson, stubborn as they come.” It annoys me more than it should that he thinks he knows me so well. If I focus on the growing annoyance I feel, then I can’t dwell on that ridiculous conversation with Danny and Ashleigh yesterday. I still can’t tell if Danny was telling the truth about talking with Mark, and I’m not about to go ask. If Danny did in fact say something, I don’t want to be the one to bring it up, and if he didn’t, I don’t want to embarrass myself by saying something. Brothers are the worst!
“I know I shouldn’t be offended right now, but… ” I shove his arm and try to glare at him. “Thank you and all that jazz,” I say in my best monotone voice.
Mark isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. He is full-on laughing. Deep, guttural laughs. I can’t help but start laughing too. I’m sure we look like two lunatics laughing so hard there are tears streaming down our faces. At least down my face—I’m still not ready to make full eye contact yet. Thank goodness for waterproof makeup.
“Thank you for the help. I’m sorry I was so rude. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m not my usual self.”
“You weren’t rude.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Are you seriously arguing with me about whether I thought you were rude or not?” He’s teasing me, and I’m too sleep deprived to not take it for what it is. I’m grumpy and annoyed.
As we walk towards the office building, I know I’m being huffy. The silence is awkward. Mark must feel the same need as I do. We speak at the same time.
“So… ”
“You go first,” I say bashfully.
I hate that I’m being so ridiculous. Sure, I’ve had a massive crush on him over the years. Am I pretty sure he almost kissed me that Christmas five years ago? Yeah, pretty sure. Was there some insane amount of chemistry going on during Ben’s wedding festivities? Pretty sure there was an electrical current that could run an entire continent. But that was all years ago. He’s back in town permanently now. We will have to work together from time to time. We are adults. I am an adult. I am no longer that lovesick teenager who daydreams about the day that Mark Winters finally sees that I’m more than just Ben’s little sister or Jonathan’s best friend. But then I look at him, and he’s just standing there being all attractive and unattainable, and I go right back into old habits. He’s always been hot, but when did he get so solid?
Yeah, I said it, Mark is attractive, but it doesn’t mean anything. There are lots of attractive men in the world. Movie and television sets are full of them. So what if he perfected the soap opera hair and has perfectly straight white teeth? And that dimple and crinkle in his nose that peeks out when he smiles. And clearly, he still likes physical activity because his body shows it. And—Do not think about Mark Winters doing anything with his body, Millie. This is not the time nor the place to be thinking any such things. Especially about Mark Winters. And now that I have said his name 12,000 times in my head and haven’t actually said a single word to the living, breathing human being next to me in several minutes. I’m sure he thinks I’m insane.
“Millie, are you okay?”
“Yeah!” I squeak. I actually squeaked. Kill me now. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I all but fall over, tripping over my feet as I trip over my words.
“I asked if you’d be up for going to lunch today and you didn’t say anything.”
“Tacos.”
“Tacos?”
“Lunch would be good,” I croak out, my throat suddenly very dry. “It’s Tuesday, which means Taco Tuesday.” I can’t even create full sentences. Don’t worry, ladies and gentlemen, I have an English degree. “Have you had Loco Tacos yet?” Why am I asking follow up questions? End. The. Misery.
“What is Loco Taco?” He’s starting to snicker at me again.
Okay, how long is this elevator? When did we get into the elevator, anyway? Is it hot in here? It feels really hot in here. Am I having a stroke? How do you know if you’re having a stroke? Is that when you smell toast? Because I think I smell toast. Stroke aside, answer the gorgeous Adonis—man—human—male human—oh for goodness sake! “A taco truck that parks a couple blocks away on Tuesdays. It has the best carne asada taco you’ll ever taste.”
“Sounds good. When do you usually have lunch? Would 12:15 work for you?”
“Sure,” I croak again. Come on, we are almost to the door, just a few more feet Millie, you can do it. “Well, this is me!” It comes out way louder and more abrupt than necessary. It’s not like he doesn’t know where I work. Can I just go crawl under a rock now?
“Anywhere specific you would like me to put this box?” Crap. I completely forgot about that. It’s the whole reason this humiliating exchange started. Mental note: buy a rolling bag to carry any future heavy loads. I look up and make eye contact with Mark and see him expecting an answer. I’m really rocking this human interaction thing today.
I sigh. “On my desk, if you don’t mind.”
“Just lead the way.”
As I open the door, I can feel all the eyes on us. Mark’s appearance has been the talk of the office gossip ring this past week. I never mentioned that I had seen him last week when I was at Lexington, nor did I mention that I knew him. With any luck Trina isn’t in yet because she is sure to recognize him from the picture on my desk. The picture! Crap! What is Mark going to think about me having a FRAMED PICTURE of him on my desk? Panic Mode: Activated.
