Being the damn coward that I am, I’ve found it impossible to simply walk up to her and say hello. To get to know her beyond the surface and coworker level. And even that is minimal. I’m constantly afraid I’m going to stick my foot in my mouth, say something stupid. And of course, there’s always the fear of rejection.
There’s a big difference in being rejected by someone you actually have an interest in compared to someone that just seems like a fun time.
Both girls stand but go opposite ways. Ruby goes off to do whatever IT stuff she does while Biannca makes a beeline for the door to the staff room. It’s the place that houses the coffee pot, so it’s her most frequented location aside from the library floor itself.
I stand to follow her, then think better of it and sit again. Only to stand again with the same intent to follow her. Frozen where I am at my desk, I give myself a mini mental peptalk and take off for the breakroom, snagging my coffee mug on the way.
She’s standing at the coffee pot, mumbling something to herself under her breath. I let the door close with a thud so as not to surprise her or have her think I’m eavesdropping on whatever conversation she appears to be having with herself.
“Hey, Bee.” While we don’t know each other well, when I first started here there was always this vibrant brunette tracking all across the library, often muttering things and the very frequent “ow” that reached my ears. She was like a busy little bee and so I started calling her that. It fit even better when I learned her name is Biannca.
Her spine straightens, shoulders pushing back and her chocolate curls spin in the air around her as she turns to face me. “Ethan.” My name comes out a choked breath and she clears her throat, a tight smile plastered to her face. “Hi.”
The smile softens a fraction and I try to read her. Nothing seems terribly different from how she typically looks at me, the overwhelming nervousness she tends to have in my presence. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just dislike, but Ruby has assured me the only person Biannca isn’t overly fond of in our workplace is Jemma. Just the thought of her sends a shiver down my spine.
There are two women in the world that put fear in my heart. My grandmother and Jemma.The former is from helping raise me and all the firm rules and consequent punishments for breaking them. It only took once or twice to learn not to disobey her. Even my friends were afraid to go against her word. I think Jemma reminds me just a bit too much of my favorite old lady. Yet scarier, because I’ve never seen a soft side.
I move into her immediate vicinity and the scent of jasmine and mint overwhelms my senses. A deep breath calms my nerves so I can actually communicate without being a fool. But that’s what Biannca reduces me to. An utter fool.
She cups her mug between two hands, her lips parted to blow lightly across the top, the steam swirling around her hazelnut eyes. I’m utterly starstruck, unable to move or blink or breathe. But when her lips turn up at the corners and she starts to move away I speak on impulse.
“You hear about the gala yet? Sounds pretty fancy.” Despite the tremble in my fingers I reach for the coffee pot, if only to give myself something to do other than stand here like an idiot.
“I did, in fact. Jemma was kind enough to share that information with me not long ago.” There’s a slight bite to her tone as she says Jemma’s name and I pull my lips between my teeth to hold back a smirk.
“Sounds like it could be fun.” I don’t make eye contact as I slowly pour coffee into my mug.
“Seems a little…I don’t know. Pretentious? Black tie?”
Turning to face her, I lean back against the counter behind me, crossing my ankles. “I can see how it might seem that way. But we’re in a semi affluent area and I think trying to show our worth and how we value ourselves might impress the community.”
“I guess. I know the whole idea behind it is to keep the doors open, to keep new books coming in, keep overdue charges low and especially keep doing all the great activities we do here. But it just feels…I don’t know how to explain it.” She waves her hand as if flicking away the idea. “Maybe it’s more about the whole having to bring a plus one thing.” Her finger swirls around the lip of her mug and my spine straightens.
When her eyes lift to mine, I nearly melt. “You bringing anyone?” There’s true curiosity in her tone, mixed with something I can’t quite decipher. But nothing that points to the fact that she knows she matched with me on the app.
Lifting a shoulder, I try to play it cool but probably fail miserably. “Guess I have to, right? Didn’t exactly seem like a suggestion so much as a mandate.”
“That’s probably what’s bugging me. Why do wehaveto bring a date? Not all of us are happily married or blissfully attached to someone. Some of us are just…flying solo. For some reason it feels like being shamed for being single.” There’s an underlyingsense of sadness in her words. Like this isn’t the first time she’s felt this way or had to defend her singleness.
“I think it’s more about showing a large presence. No one will really know who’s with whom but at the same time anyone who might donate will see a great turnout and support, even from staff and their significant others. Even if those may only be for the evening.”
She looks up to the ceiling, tipping her head from side to side as though considering. “I guess that could be the case. Anyway, it was good talking to you, Ethan. I should get back out there.”
With a light smile she walks past me and out into the library. All the little breadcrumbs I’d left for her to pick up and piece together were ignored. Or, maybe not ignored, but not pieced together. Was it intentional? Could Biannca really have no clue that it’s me behind that app profile?
As soon as I get back to my desk, I pull up the app again. Mostly to see if she decided to cancel the date request. It’s then I notice my error. For a bigger sense of anonymity, I had made my profile under E.J.notEthan.
E.J. for Ethan James. I’m not sure anyone here knows my middle name, nor that I had gone by the moniker for the first fifteen years of my life. In all my excitement of seeing Biannca’s profile requesting a date, I’d forgotten that incredibly small, yet extremely gigantic detail.
A heavy sigh heaves from my chest and I’m about to click my phone off when a notification pops up.
Biannca:Hello. Um, I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, I’ve never done something like this before. But I am wondering if you’re free to be my date for a work event?
Chapter 3
Biannca
Ichew the inside of my cheek while I wait for a response. At first, I planned to send the message and put the phone away until after work. But the message immediately noted asreadand three dots appeared.
