Page 27 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
“You’re one to talk,” she laughs. “You shouldn’t be working until midnight every night, yet here you are.”
“It’s not every night. I left at eleven thirty yesterday.”
“Has anyone told you that you should try getting out more?”
“The last time I did that, I accidentally collided with a girl on the sidewalk and ruined her food.”
“Rumor has it that she never ate dinner that night,” she says with a sleepy laugh.
She might have skipped dinner, but her mouth was definitely full.
I silently curse to myself. When I offered her the position, I promised myself that I would set aside the memory of that night, believing I could draw a stark line between personal history and the professional present. But now, with every interaction, every glance across the office, I find myself second-guessing whether hiring her was the right choice.
I constantly feel torn between upholding the rules and preserving the sanctity of the workplace and my refusal to bury the past. It’s like I’m navigating through a complex web of conflicting emotions when all I want to do is relaxand act like a normal human being whenever she’s around.
“I know you’re off the clock, but would you mind if we talked about something really quickly? I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Barrett, I’m so sorry about this morning. I’ve been having a stroke of bad luck lately, but this was entirely my fault. I fell asleep early last night and forgot to set my alarm,” Lyla rambles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll set like ten alarms if I have to.”
“No, it’s not… this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. You being late is not a big deal. I know things happen, and as long as it doesn’t become a habit, then I’m willing to overlook it.”
She tightly closes her eyes, nodding up and down.
“Look, Lyla,” I begin, clearing my throat, “I want to apologize for being distant the last few days. I’ve been having a hard time navigating where to draw the line of professionalism with you, so I resorted to avoiding the situation altogether.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you brought it up.” Her voice is quiet. “Maybe we could start fresh? You know, leave behind the past and just focus on working better together as a team.”
“I’d like that,” I agree, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.
“Can I make one suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“For the love of god, will you please stopemailing me like you’re an auto-reply generator? It feels like I’m conversing with one of those creepy human-like AI robots, and I don’t like it.”
“It might help if I ease up a bit, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe a little. Plus, I read over the non-fraternization policy half a dozen times before signing it. There’s nothing in there that prohibits us from being friends. I think we’re more than capable of handling that.” There’s a sense of certainty present in her voice.
The idea of us being just friends is something she might be okay with, but the thought of it fills me with dread.
“It’s worth a shot,” I lie through my teeth.
“Well then, as your friend, I think it’s only right that I tell you that you should take the weekend off.”
Bold statement coming from the girl who came back by the office to grab her laptop charger so she could work over the weekend.
A weak chuckle escapes my lips. “Tell that to the deadlines.”
“Deadlines are important, sure, but so is your well-being.” Lyla’s face softens. “Putting in endless hours doesn’t guarantee high-quality work. You’d be surprised what a good night’s sleep and a fresh mind can do for you.”
“Goodnight, Lyla.”
“Night.”
Half an hour later, I take her advice and pack up to leave, leaving my laptop and work phone on my desk to return to on Monday morning.
TWELVE
