Page 51 of The Bright Side of Brooding
Chapter Twenty-Two
Summer
His eyes heated as they roamed my face, and my stomach did a handful of backflips.
“That, I do.”
“Good.”
My chest rose and fell like I’d just finished a jog, all from him looking at me and being so clear about what he wanted. Being the person he wanted, I was finding, proved to be a heady experience.
He nodded, pinning the thought in place, then grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. Butterflies released into my chest, fluttering so fiercely I would’ve thought this was our first contact.
“So, tell me about your work, and life, and everything.”
I huffed to release a bit of the pent-up tension. “No pressure, huh? Just lay it all out there?”
“Not anything you don’t want to tell me. You know my plans, and you’ve seen me at work the last few days. You have a feel for one of the things I love. I want to know that about you.”
My heart pulsed. Here he was, folks. The literal dream. Physically astounding and emotionally almost too keen. I’d never been around anyone like him and definitely hadn’t dated anyone like this.
“I love my job.” My heartbeat jumped. I knew the words that wanted to escape, but telling him put me at risk. If I told him, and then failed, I’d have to admit to that. But I wanted him to know, and to know me. “I’m going to interview for a promotion. I’ve been hoping for this chance, and I’m not all that competitive for it since I don’t have managerial experience at this level, but I want the job so bad.”
“How do you not have managerial experience? Isn’t half of what you do managing patients and all that comes with that?” He steered us around a corner, and we stopped at a crosswalk.
“Not of other people, technically. And it’s specifically a managerial position. But I’m running a food and boot drive in a few weeks, and I’m having to coordinate with a few different entities. I figured out how to coordinate with the local city governments to allow the donation to go to the local refugee center. It’s not anything major, but it should be one more little bullet point I can slip onto the resumé that shows I’ve made an effort.”
I hoped. Goodness, how I hoped and prayed. If I missed this opportunity, it was unlikely I’d be able to wait out the next person who took the job. Then I’d have to settle for no advancement, or move, and I didn’t particularly like the idea of either of those things.
“Eventually you’ll come crawling back, begging us for our good favor.”
Though I tried to ignore the voice, I heard my father’s parting shot from all those years ago, and the few times I’d seen him since, it’d been something similar. Anytime I faced potential failure, they rang loud and strong. I’d never have a reason to live with them again, but the threat had been real at seventeen when I’d left on a college scholarship, and I’d never managed to shed the feeling of that moment. Determination. Fear. Heartbreak.
Not only would the promotion get me a job I wanted, it could also provide that much more financial security. I’d move up on the GS scale, which meant a pay raise as one primary benefit. I wanted that raise, but fortunately, I didn’tneedit. I lived comfortably, especially since I gave away a fair amount of money in the form of donations or making food for others. But I wanted it—that boost, to see the nest egg in my accounts grow and know I’d gone so far beyond what my parents had expected of me, which was total failure.
Nick spoke as the light changed. “It sounds like a great idea. I want to help—just tell me how.”
The crowd surged forward, saving me from responding. I immediately admired and felt repulsed by his offer. So nice of him, and yet I needed to do this on my own. The crux of the event’s success needed to rest with me so that I could demonstrate my ability to manage the various moving pieces.
But the sincerity of his comment hung between us, and I couldn’t just ignore it, despite the busy street.
“Thank you.”Keep it simple and avoid committing later.“I think everything is pretty much set. So far, the response has been good, and I’m hoping people will do a nice push before spring break. That’ll give me time to sort through everything and distribute it while things are more low-key that next week, and it’s a few weeks before my interview so I’ll have all the numbers ready to relay for the committee.” I forced my mouth shut, realizing I was in danger of continuing to babble, and sweet as Nick was, he wouldn’t interrupt me.
“Sounds like a solid plan.”
“Thanks.”
I felt stiff, like my work chatter had somehow derailed us, but I shook that off. He seemed to like me, and if he didn’t like me talking work and organizing community things, that would change. I hated the thought, but I was trying to embrace myself as I was. I hoped he could, too.
We crossed another street, walking in companionable silence. I took in all the famous sights, appreciating how walkable London was. Not all cities were, though most in Europe had been designed with pedestrians in mind. And London, I liked. Especially on a decent weather day like this one.
We passed the palace, but we didn’t stop to gawk at the guards. Eventually, we made it to the river, and lingered at the corner of a bridge to admire Big Ben.
“I’m not sure what you want to do now, but I was hoping we could go to the Tate Modern.” Nick’s hand—holding mine again after a brief lapse thanks to a crowd—squeezed.
“We’re doing what I wanted to do—just walking. Well, and the class last night. I try to take a class everywhere I visit, and that was a dream come true. Truly.”
“I’m glad. After I registered you, I had this thought that you’d think I was controlling and weird for trying to surprise you.” The question in his voice was clear.
