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She flits around the office, and all I can compare it to is a bird. She’s talking nonstop, but I love it. The sound of her voice, the way she’s buzzing around the room. It’s like she’s a tiny tornado of love that’s been sent to turn my world upside down.
She comes over beside me when she’s done and looks at me expectantly. “Ready?”
I guess I nod again, because she hits the elevator button and we step on.
“Oh, I’m Jay, by the way.”
“Jordan,” I say, and she smiles even bigger at me.
Could I repeat my name to her over and over? Would that be weird? I just want to see her smile like that forever, and I don’t care how it happens.
Her voice fills the elevator as she talks about what will be down there to eat today. How it’s gotten so much better since Mr. Osbourne had the whole thing redone. I listen, not wanting to miss a word, but having a hard time concentrating when the woman of my dreams is inches away from me. I’m trapped in a metal box with the person I’ve been waiting my whole life for, and I can’t do anything about it. This is truly what torture is.
“Oh good, the line isn’t long,” she says once we exit and grab trays.
She piles her plate high with food, and I’m actually impressed. I love a woman who can eat, and for someone her size, she isn’t afraid of food. I put extra on mine, thinking about what she’s going to eat after she’s finished with hers. What if she gets hungry later? Who will provide for her?
Then the thought that she might have someone in her life makes me livid. I look down at her finger and don’t see a ring. She could be married, but if a man were with her and not smart enough to mark her as taken, then he doesn’t deserve her. I never thought about breaking up a marriage before, but there seems to be a time and a place for everything all of a sudden.
“Husband?” I ask as we stand in front of the soups.
“That’s a weird choice,” she says, looking down in all the pots.
“Do you have a husband,” I ask, and she lets out a laugh.
“Oh!” she says, and waves her hand. “The Italian wedding soup. I see what you did there. No, I’m not married. You?”
I shake my head, and she smiles. “Well, I guess it’s good we’re friends now. We don’t have to eat alone.”
She takes her tray to the cashier, and the word friends echoes in my ears. Hold up. Did she just send me directly to friend zone? I didn’t get to pass go or collect a phone number at least? How is she not holding herself back from ripping my clothes off? Am I the only one who feels what’s happening right now?
I look around the room and see everyone going about their day. I want to slam my tray down and ask why the hell no one notices that I’ve just fallen in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. How come this isn’t headline news?
“Jordan?” Jay says my name, and suddenly I’m putty in her hands.
I walk over and set my tray down beside hers, pulling out my wallet. “I’ve got this,” I tell her, and hold out my money for the both of us.
“That’s so nice of you. Thank you,” she says as we walk to a table in the corner. “I didn’t ask you so you’d treat me.”
“Friends,” I say, rolling the word around on my tongue. I sound like fucking Tarzan learning English with her.
“Sounds good to me,” she says as she reaches her hand over and pats the top of mine.
I sit frozen as she takes her hand back, and I want to reach out and yank it over to me. I want to take it and press it to my face and tell her all my deepest, darkest secrets.
“Oh wow, this soup is awesome. Good choice.”
I watch her eat and then talk to me. She’s completely comfortable, and I could sit here for hours. The sound of her voice is like music, the most beautiful symphony I’ve ever heard. Her eyes see straight into my soul, and I can’t look away.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asks, looking between my full tray and hers, almost halfway finished.
As if she’s given me a command, I do as she says and start to eat. When she starts telling me all the places in the city she loves to eat, I make mental notes about each and every one of them. Why didn’t I bring a pen and paper? I don’t want to forget anything.
I make it my life’s mission right then to make sure that I know as much about her as I can. To absorb every little detail so that when I make her mine, I’ll also make her happy.
