Page 26 of Fangs with Benefits

‘Absolutely not.’ He was on the email like the rest of us.

‘Don’t be like that. He didn’t come to the last one and hasn’t RSVP’d yet, so I think he might not come unless you invite him. He likes you!’

‘He likes Kenneth.’ I point to the wall separating my desk from Kenneth’s and, sure enough, hearing his name beckons him to stand up and join the conversation.

‘Who likes Kenneth?’ he asks.

‘Elijah. Go invite him to happy hour,’ I tell him.

‘Nah, you should invite him. You’re his favourite,’ he says. I throw my hands up, not sure where everyone got this idea that Elijah likes me more than anyone else when I’m four times as mean as any person he comes in contact with on a given day. And I’ve been thinking I should be worse.

The pair share a look and then stare at me expectantly until I let out a heavy sigh and stand up. They’ll keep pestering me about it until I do, and the happy hour is tonight so it’s now or never. I adjust my skirt and walk towards his office. With Halloween next week, Devi has hung little bats around the office, and they swing slightly as the heater hums through the vents, bringing with it the smell of hot dust and winter. The basement is a unique part of Drummond–cosier, somehow. I think Devi is mostly to thank, but even the cubicles are more decorated than on other floors. Marginally less corporate.

I pull my shoulders back and look over my shoulder at where Jen and Kenneth are watching me like I’m their favourite reality show. I groan inwardly and then knock on Elijah’s door, which is open a crack.

‘Come in,’ he calls.

When I toe his door open, he’s sitting with a book open next to his computer, obviously reading it while sipping from that green bottle of his. He clicks the straw closed, closes the book and smiles pleasantly at me.

‘Hi, Molly.’

‘Are you slacking off reading… minotaur porn?’ I point at the book, where a woman is enthusiastically clutching a much taller minotaur to her. Elijah’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks down at the book. Like he’s surprised by the book he was just reading. He picks up the paperback, looks at the three printed sides of the cover.

‘I suppose I am,’ he says, then smiles. ‘Fun story.’

‘Do you read monster romance regularly?’ I ask, unable to help myself. He slides his big desk drawer open and retrieves a paper shopping bag that’s been folded at the top. I recognise the logo of the bookstore a few blocks from here. He retrieves two more paperbacks, both with similarly dramatic covers of women embracing inhuman creatures (Sexy Mothman on one, a Sexy Orc on the other).

He glances up at me and we both laugh, quiet little sounds, his almost embarrassed, mine amused. Elijah shrugs and puts the books back in his desk drawer.

‘The bookseller was very persuasive,’ he says by way of explanation.

‘You like to read?’ I ask, then want to kick myself as a reminder that I do not care what he does or doesn’t like.

‘I do,’ he says. ‘Books have always been a companion to me. And they teach so very much about the world. What people fear, where they wish to escape to. Like a reflection of the current consciousness.’

Elijah gives one last look at his minotaur book, and I wonder what he’s gleaned about the societal pulse from its pages.

I mentally shake myself, remembering my purpose here. It’s not to chat about passions and smutty novels, it is to convey a message so I can get back to my own slacking off.

‘Did you see the email about happy hour tonight? Jen sent an invite.’

He nods. ‘I did.’ I think he’s going to go on, but that’s the end of it. He saw the invitation. Period.

‘So… are you going?’

Elijah rubs his jaw, visibly considering an answer to my very simple yes or no question. He can never just have a simple conversation, can he? Once again, I must ask, is it a British thing?

‘I’ve never been to happy hour,’ he says. ‘What does one do there?’

‘It’s not a place, it’s an event. Like meeting up for drinks, but with your coworkers instead of your friends.’

‘Your coworkers aren’t your friends?’ he asks, and I would think he’s kidding if he didn’t look as earnestly interested in my answer as he always does.

‘Some of them,’ I say. ‘Others I wouldn’t necessarily choose to get drinks with on a normal Thursday evening. But the department gets the first drink for everyone, and it’s good for company culture or whatever. Morale boosting.’

‘Fascinating,’ he mutters. Not how I would describe department happy hour, where Kenneth follows Devi around like a mosquito and Ryan tells annoying stories much too loudly, but to each their own. ‘And must I drink something?’

‘No, some people just do soda or water. It’s more of the social aspect. Seeing each other in a non-work setting.’