Seeing Travis sway once more and begin to turn around, I eased back into my cubicle and closed the door enough that it wouldn’t alert him I was there. As soon as I heard the bathroom door swing shut, I carefully opened the cubicle door and looked around to make sure he’d truly gone.
Sure enough, Travis had left, and my angel was crumpled on the floor in the corner, his knees hugged to his chest and his feathered wings crushed at an awkward angle. I almost expected to see him crying, but nope. When I looked into his eyes, they burned with fury.
Hesitantly, I approached him like a caged tiger, my hands slightly out in front of me. My immediate instinct was to ask him if he was okay, but I knew he wasn’t. How could anyone be okay after all of that? So, instead, I softly asked, “What can I do?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly enough to catch my eye. He shook his head and wiped the area where he’d been spit on. It was dry, so he must have swiped it off him while Travis was leaving, but the memory obviously remained. “Help me up?” He held out a slender hand to me in obvious invitation.
“Uh, sure. But I haven’t washed my hands yet.” I looked down guiltily at my hands, then back at the stall I’d left, absently wiping my hands on my jeans. “Or flushed…”
He chuckled. “I’ve just been spit on. Unless you literally pissed on your hand, I think I’ll be fine.” When I grimaced and shook my head, he leaned forward to grab hold of one of my hands, and I took the hint to haul him to his feet. “But yeah, you might want to flush.”
Silently, I nodded, scurried back to the stall, and did as he suggested, emerging again immediately. “Uh, my name’s Henry, by the way.” I knelt to pick up his mascara before placing it carefully on the bench next to the rest of his kit, the contents of which I only noticed now were strewn across the counter.
“Blue,” came the response as he patted a small damp makeup cloth to his nose while staring at the mirror in front of him. He huffed at the foundation he’d had to remove. “Fucking hell, I had this perfect. Stupid, inconsiderate, fucking asshole.” He threw the cloth down in disgust.
I washed my hands while staring at his reflection. “I don’t know. It still looks perfect to me.”
His eyes flicked to mine before resettling on his nose, but a tiny smile emerged. “Oh, aren’t you sweet, Henry?”
“Not really,” I mumbled. I looked down at my hands when I felt my cheeks warm. “Did you say your name was Blue?”
“Yup.” He searched through his makeup until he found what he was looking for, then dabbed away at the bare skin on his nose. “Chose it myself.”
“Huh.”
He frowned at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Do you have a problem with that, Henry?”
My eyes widened. “Not at all.”
“Then why the surprised tone?”
“Just I’ve never heard anyone being named after a color before.” I flushed again and dropped my eyes to the bench-top once more. It was an odd name, but now that I’d heard it, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else. It was certainly better than calling himmy angelin my head. “Suits you though.”
I dared to peek up at him to find his face relaxed into an amiable smile while his eyes slowly raked over my face in the reflection. “Thank you, Henry.”
This was the third time he’d used my name. My brow furrowed in confusion. “Why do you keep saying my name?”
Blue laughed, the tension finally easing from around his eyes and his shoulders. “It’s a trick I learned back in college. When I get introduced to someone, I say their name during our conversation a few times so it’ll stick in my memory.”
“Huh.” I tilted my head to the side while I let his explanation settle into my brain. It made a lot of logical sense. I’d have to try it the next time I met someone new. Using it on Blue seemed redundant, as he’d already occupied so much of my thoughts over the past year.
He smiled at my reaction and checked the pearls stuck to his skin. “At least I didn’t lose any of these.”
Leaning against the cabinet, I crossed my arms and watched him test each one with a careful but practiced finger. “Has he done that to you before?” I asked quietly.
He stilled, pressing a little harder into the pearl he’d been inspecting, before slowly releasing both the bauble and his breath. “No.” He fidgeted with the brushes and sponges still scattered along the countertop, gradually refilling his makeup bag. He grimaced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Travis didn’t say or do anything I haven’t heard or experienced before—”
Rage filled me at his words as a flood of protectiveness washed over me. Why were people so cruel?
“—but normally he prefers to stick to being a simple lunch thief.” He rolled his eyes. “This is the first time I’ve seen him drunk, though, so maybe he’s just a mean drunk…” He trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you going to report it to security before you leave tonight?” I chewed my lip nervously. “I couldn’t record anything because my phone is…” I frowned at the door and my boss waiting just beyond it. He’d picked one hell of a time to use myphone as warranty I’d return to him. “But I can come with you. Let them know I overheard the whole thing.”
The bitter sound of his laughter as he shook his head sent chills through me. “I’ll send another report to my manager, but I’ve been told there’s nothing they can do without irrefutable proof. I can’t imagine this will make any difference, even with you as a witness.”
My jaw clenched again at the injustice of what he was saying. He was such a vibrant young man, and yet the protocols that should have been in place to protect him were failing him miserably. This whole situation didn’t feel right. “How could me being a witness not be seen as enough proof?”
“He has reach in Eckersley’s that I can’t compete with. I’d need video or audio proof for HR to take me seriously with how much pull he has here, otherwise it’ll all be a he-said, he-said situation, and they’ll side with him. If I go to them with anything less than irrefutable proof that they can’t wave away, Travis will just twist it around and somehow blame me. And other than him hounding me, I really do enjoy working here.” He sighed as he took off his wings and laid them out on the bench, plucking at the feathers in an attempt to straighten them as best as he could. “I guess it serves me right for getting ready at work,” he muttered.