“Just checking in.” Andrew enters my office and leans on my back wall with his hands behind him. The result is that his pectoral muscles pop in his Tom Ford suit, and I wonder if that was by design. He really is great looking. I almost admire how he pulls off his effortless perfection without seeming like an arrogant ass. “Have you started training yet?”
“Just yesterday.” I nod. “It went better than I thought it would, but I have a very long road ahead of me.” I feel comfortable enough with him that I can be honest with him. “I’m pretty sore today.” I confess, hoping that Sara isn’t about to pop in with a look of sheer triumph.
“Totally normal,” he assures me. “I think it’s amazing that you’ve decided to do this.” He’s looking at me with what I think is admiration, and I feel very encouraged after a rough start to the day. “And I think we should celebrate. Drinks after work on Friday?” Wow. He’s asking me to do something outside of work for the second week in a row? I could come up with an excuse but realize that I don’t really want to.
“I’m in.” A look of relief briefly plays across his face, followed by a grin. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile like that; his entire face is lit up. I like it.
“Nice,” he says, still smiling. “We’ll call it a commencement ceremony.” I’ve been so busy focusing on the marathon as something I needed to get through that I’d been ignoring the fact that the whole point was a company-based team-building exercise. I am not doing this alone and maybe sharing my experiences with my coworkers will help me overcome setbacks. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He pushes himself off the back wall. Before he’s gone he adds, “And I’ll send you a calendar invite for Friday night.” I warm at the gesture. I live by my calendar, and I believe that taking the time to follow up with official invites is a sign of real consideration. I start to wonder if he’s inviting the others who are part of the challenge to go with us. It would make sense, but his phrasing didn’t imply that we would be going as a group.
Wednesdays are usually busy at work, and today is no different. I have back-to-back Zoom meetings with clients that take up my entire morning. At lunch, I eat my salad and sandwich at my desk. The hourly reminders from my watch to get up and move for a minute have been appreciated. Sometimes I get so caught up in work I’ll make it to two in the afternoon without having any water or going to the bathroom.
While eating a mid-afternoon yogurt and apple, I think about the plans I made with Andrew. If it is indeed just the two of us, should I consider it a date? He has certainly been acting as if he’s more interested in me the past couple of weeks. I wonder why? Do I want it to be a date? Just because I don’t want a serious relationship doesn’t mean I wouldn’t agree to a casual one. I like Andrew. Unlike some of the older men that work here, he doesn’t speak over his female coworkers. He listens when they offer advice, and he always gives credit where it’s due. Once I heard him arguing with an IT guy that Serena Williams was a better athlete than Tom Brady, and honestly, it was hot. The idea of being with someone like Andrew just makes so much sense. I feel like I would know where I stand and that things would not be complicated. You know, unlike pining over an unattainable dream guy who sets my soul on fire and turns my life into pure chaos. Maybe this is why you don’t pick your life partner when you’re a teenager. There are far too many hormones running amuck.
As if he senses that I’m thinking of him, a text comes in from Josh.
Josh:How’s the body?
Okay. Knowing that Josh is at work thinking about my body makes me slightly less angry at him.
Me:I got a prescription for OxyContin. I’ve never felt better.
Josh:Smart
I don’t respond, choosing instead to go back to the report I’ve been working on. After a few minutes, my phone dings again.
Josh:We’re still on for the morning?
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping the part of my brain making these decisions knows what the hell it’s doing.
Me:We’re still on.
Chapter 15
Betty
As Josh predicted, I survive the second run. I was still sore, even after a half hour of yoga last night and an hour-long soak in the bathtub with Epsom salts, but I am in a much better place than yesterday. We were quiet for the most part during the walk/run. Josh occasionally made suggestions on the length of my stride and encouraged me when we were taking on a hill. It’s starting to feel more natural to me, and I don’t feel like I need to think about what I’m doing constantly.
I’m heading into my apartment to shower when Josh stops me.
“So, we’ll have another rest day tomorrow and then go again Saturday morning?”
“About that,” I say. “Could we maybe make it Saturday afternoon? I’m going out for drinks with work people tomorrow evening.”
“Oh, yeah?” He leans on the hallway wall, regarding me with a tilted head. His curls are getting longer and are looking rather wild after the run. “That sounds like fun.” Shit. He’s looking at me like he wants me to invite him. I’m still not sure if it’s going to be a group outing or just Andrew and I.
“Yeah.” I shrug, playing with my keys nervously. “Just the people who are training for the marathon are heading to O’Malley’s Pub. You know, a team-building thing.” He nods, still staring at me intently.
“Saturday afternoon is fine.” He finally says with a nod and walks toward his apartment. I watch him as he goes. His body seemed more relaxed when we were running. “Try not to be too hungover.” He winks at me before disappearing.
“I won’t,” I call weakly, but he’s already closed the door.
* * *
O’Malley’s is already busy when Andrew and I arrive just before five on Friday. It’s a popular spot with the after-work crowd, and we barely manage to snag a spot at the bar. When he came by my office alone a half hour ago, my suspicions that this would just be the two of us were confirmed. I’d dressed casually this morning so I wouldn’t feel out of place in a pub. I wore fitted black pants paired with a V-neck white blouse. I merely swapped the blazer I wore at the office with a denim jacket, and I was ready to go. Andrew was dressed in dark jeans and a pale-gray crew-neck sweater. I caught a glimpse of us in a mirror as we headed to the elevator and was startled by how nice we looked together.
“They have a nice selection of craft beers here,” Andrew tells me, leaning in so I hear him over the noise of the bar. I see his eyes linger on the modest amount of cleavage my blouse gives up, but only for a moment. I like that he didn’t stare. I would normally order a red wine, but in an attempt to seem more casual than I feel, I order some kind of small-batch beer that he seems really excited about. We’re quiet after we order, and I realize that I know very little about him outside of work.
“Do you have any family around here?” I ask as an icebreaker.
