Page 21 of Written By a Woman

Even though everyone smiled and waved and even initiated small talk with me as they passed by the front desk, I was jumpy. I was nervous. I felt like any second, everything would come crashing down around me. Any second now, Jacqueline would pull me into her office to fire me for inappropriately writing about the CTO.

This is why when Nikhil snuck up in my blind spot and rapped his knuckles on my desk, I almost fell out of my seat, making his eyes widen and lean forward as if he was about to help me before I could tip over completely.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes!” I laughed at myself, both for startling Nikhil and for the chaos my nervous system was experiencing.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Nikhil relaxed as I sat straighter in my chair and took a drink from my water bottle, “I was just wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure,” I smiled as I capped my bottle and set it beside my computer.

“Can you call the restaurant to see if they can add another person to the reservation?” Nikhil asked with a twist of his fingers.

“I can,” I sent him a small grimace, “But they might not let me.”

“Yeah, I know it’s last minute, but Padma decided to join me. She said she was fine dining by herself somewhere else that night, but…” Nikhil shrugged, and I was momentarily distracted by the love that shined in his eyes almost instinctually at the mention of his wife’s name. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

“I’ll do my best,” at that, he thanked me and sauntered off while I found the number for the restaurant where they would be dining, and called.

Every quarter, Brandon would gather a group of management employees to go on a work trip. It was only classified as a work trip because everyone still conducted work, and the company footed the bill. The reality was, that it was a group of employees who were all friends with each other and wanted a change of scenery from the office.

Last time Brandon asked me to book rooms at a resort near San Diego for three nights. This time, they were all going to the Ritz Carlton in Santa Barbara.

Did Brandon offer to do this for any of the lower-level employees?

No.

Did he ask me to keep the details of this trip quiet so the lower-level employees didn’t get jealous?

Yes.

Did he bother to invitemeon their fancy work trips?

Also, no.

Nikhil’s friendly demeanor aside, this was clearly aman’sclub—except for Mary, who had been invited by Nikhil to join them in Santa Barbara. I had a feeling that this was management’s way of diversifying these weird outings, while also allowing everyone to get the vibe on each other before they promoted her to a higher managerial position.

Good for Mary.

If any other employee deserved an invite, it was her.

Don’t worry, I was still secretly bitter about not being invited myself even though I scheduled and organized everything.

I hung up with the restaurant before messaging Nikhil that the reservation was updated with no problems. It was Friday, and I was already thinking about what my weekend was going to look like. Would I write a little for the second story like I had planned? Was it weird to keep writing at all even though Zaid’s face had been exposed to my following?

“Signe,” I heard a familiar deep voice speak, making my fingers freeze over my keyboard in the middle of a report I was filling out for Brandon.

“Mm?” I asked, pretending to be deep in thought as I forced my fingers to keep typing. The reality was, I didn’t want to face him just yet. I also couldn’t form words without my voice giving away my weirdness, so I took the opportunity I had to look the part of a “busy office manager” and calm my frantic nerves.

“Are you busy?” I both heard and felt his elbows rest on the front desk I sat at. It had a top ledge that concealed most of my computer screen, leaving just my head and shoulders available to whoever entered the floor. That being said, even though that should have provided a decent enough space to keep me separated from whoever was on the other side, the way that Zaid leaned his forearms on the ledge and hunched toward me made me think I was suddenly sitting at the smallest desk in the world.

“One sec,” I flicked my eyes over at him, giving him what I hoped was a rueful smile and not a smile that said, “I have written dirty, dirty things about you and I am filled with anxiety about it.” I quickly looked back at my report and deleted and retyped the same sentence a couple of times, because the one glance I gave myself happened to be direct eye contact with him. And I could feel the heat my body created in my face and neck knowing that I had his full attention. That he was peering at me intently with his lovely brown eyes, instead of looking away like he usually did.

Why wasn’t he looking away this time?

Ohmygodheknows.

I froze at the thought, retyped the sentence one last time, and sat taller in my chair like I was finally ready to give him my full attention. Then I realized that was not normal of me and decided to casually slump against the back of my chair and sway side to side before I finally forced myself to face him again.

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