Page 62 of When the Walls Come Down
The next morning, after I FaceTimed with my brother, an envelope slid under my door.Acquaintance,
I can report—and review publicly if I so choose—that the showerhead you bought for me is now my current best friend. Sadly, you’ve been replaced. I’ve named her Sprayonce and she is my new Queen. I was just as surprised as you most likely are to learn she is undeniably female. But let me assure you she knows about secret places on my body that even I didn’t know about. There’s no way that thing is a male.
I wanted to write you this thank-you note to let you know I really appreciate you cheering me up Friday night and for all my gifts, although I’m sure you’ve ensured my water bill will probably triple this month.
I’m going out exploring today and doing some things I came to California to do and remind myself why I chose to come all the way out here.
So I probably won’t see you until work Monday, but I truly hope you have a good week at work. Try not to look too handsome for me and try not to get carpal tunnel committing so much murder. At your age, you could really hurt yourself with all that heavy lifting. That was a joke about your big co—wait, never mind. I already made one joke for the day.
I hope…and I mean this from the bottom of my heart…that your knees aren’t scabby and gross.
PeachMonday, she wore her hair up and her neck was, like, right there. I didn’t think she’d done it to antagonize me, but since I was antagonized, I intentionally dropped my phone just outside her door and made a show of bending over to pick it up.
Was it fair? Probably not.
Was it professional? Not even close.
Did she lick her lips before she shouted, “Can you please shut my door?” You’re Goddamned right she did.
Tuesday wasn’t much better, and I’m sure it was just the added competition aspect that was in the air, but we were killing it. Crushing it, even. I was making deals at levels I’d never been able to hit before, and Maggie had this way of bringing the whole team together so they could envision her concepts and make them come to life.
Wednesday and Thursday basically flew by, and it was beginning to hit me that, in two more weeks, I’d no longer be able to look across the hall at her whenever I wanted. I also had to contend with the very real possibility that I could lose my job to her.
Except, it wasn’t as tough as a pill to swallow as it had been at first. When Casey and Blake had first sprung the whole “hey, you’re turning into a fucking cyborg with no life, so we’re forcing you out in the world to get one” thing on me, I’d been pissed. Outwardly defiant and wanted to fight them tooth and nail.
Now, I saw that, even if I didn’t get to keep my job, what I’d built at Bay Brewing would be in good hands. Maggie was capable, bright, and creative. And even though she was younger than many on the staff, she had a talent for management, and everyone liked her.
What wasn’t to like?
So, as the second week wound down, I was finding peace in the whole thing. I still absolutely didn’t want to leave, but there were worse things that could happen. And the world didn’t revolve around me or that brewery.
As I shut down my computer Thursday evening, I glanced through our doors and caught her deep in thought. A pen stuck in her hair and her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She was in the zone and beautiful. Then she made the most victorious face, mouthing, Fuck yeah.
Thank God the next day was Friday, because seeing her every day in her element was heady. I could blame it on attraction or pure lust, but deep down I knew that even if I’d broken off what we’d started weeks ago, and even if we’d for the most part kept it friendly…
Every single day, I only wanted her more.Chris didn’t even ask me what I wanted before he slid a vodka cranberry in front of me. A double in a tall glass with extra cranberry, nonetheless.
“How’s it going, Maggie?”
“It’s good.”
And it was good. I’d slayed my second week on the job at Bay Brewing, making massive headway on the new cider campaign.
Then there was Shane. We’d fallen into a flirty comfort with each other that, while I fully admitted was not nearly as fun as waking up in his bed, it was still more than what I’d thought we’d have this time last week.
But it was finally Friday again, which meant two things.
Vodka cranberry and some uninterrupted and potentially inappropriate dinner conversation with my best friend. I couldn’t adequately explain how much I looked forward to our unspoken Friday night ritual. I’d made a couple of acquaintances at work. Enough that I now had someone to chitchat with or have lunch during the week. But nothing compared to Two Ships with Shane.
