“Oh.” He makes me speechless with his confession. I don’t know how truthful he’s being, but this feels like the most real conversation we’ve had thus far besides awkward hellos inside elevators and break rooms.
“I wanted to have a drink with you, dinner, dessert, whatever would have gotten me the most time with you.” His smile is something out of a magazine. So beautiful, disarming and utterly perfect.
“I can come into the office tomorrow. I have mail to collect.” Look at me. I’m an eager slut like my sister for man-cock or whatever she calls dick-chicken.
His smile softens. “Not with the order to work from home. I’ll see you soon, but I hope we can meet like this every day. I don’t think I’ll be sane by the end of this, but it’ll help.”
“Right. I keep forgetting. This is so weird.”
“Weird, but not terrible.” He makes it sound like a silly question.
“No.” I chuckle.
“Promise you won’t overthink this and pick up my call tomorrow?”
“I promise.” My head swirls certain this is insanely crazy. I’m sort of cyber dating my boss in a no contact pandemic.
Yup, I’m definitely going to die a virgin.
6
Van
The call ends and I push back from my desk thinking about my girl. My beautiful Laurel is currently hunkered down clear across the island from me and all I want to do is break the rules and drive over to see her. Hold her. Smell her honeysuckle scent that reminds me of spring. The spring we should be having if March and Mother Nature could figure their shit out.
Instead, I’m sitting here alone in my penthouse with a view that makes me incredibly lonely because I have no one to share it with. My building is operating on a skeleton crew. My pool is closed for cleaning and I’m jittery as fuck. The treadmill isn’t cutting it and for the first time, I’m too keyed up to jerk myself off. Surprising even after the most beautiful eyes on screen graced me with her presence and sweet sultry voice. This girl…woman has no idea the effect she has on me and that makes this whole situation ironic?
Catastrophic to my libido for sure.
I’m definitely jumping the gun here on things. I can tell she hasn’t processed the fact that we’ve been emailing and texting the last three months. She’s inevitably going to freak out.
The highlight of my day will be when Laurel buzzes my chat app and I talk to her again. I cross my fingers hoping that I haven’t freaked her out. The only way to know for certain is when she answers my call in about twelve hours from now. I have to make it that long and not be a crazy creeper calling her sooner. It’s bad enough I’m her boss, but I’m curious to know how this matched happened. I took a dare from a buddy of mine to open a dating profile and she was the first one I checked out after a bad date with my typical type. I went for the complete opposite on paper and turns out, Laurel Murphy surprised me.
I’d love to fall asleep with her in my arms as crazy as it sounds and I brainstorm ways I might be able to see her. Maybe we can meet at the grocery store? Hello, surprise in aisle two. Or I can bring her whatever she needs. I could tell by her surrounding room she wasn’t living the penthouse life. I don’t care about the material things. I care about whether or not she’s okay. Does she have everything she needs? Should I check the HR files for her address and send her something? This order has me crazed. Never in a million years did I think my city would shut down or that we’d be forced to stay inside as this thing works its way through the population.
I run through a ton of scenarios in my head of how I’ll get to see her. I probably run as much on my treadmill because I know I can’t. I shouldn’t. Crossing the bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn is the current kiss of death so I won’t, but I wonder if we can date. Distance dating. We can pretend she’s somewhere else, France or Italy. No, those places won’t do and I realize what a small world this is after all and yet how agonizing it is to be so close and yet so far away.
I hate how complicated this has become.
7
Laurel
I suggest we try dating despite the restrictions in place. A modified sort of thing we’ve been doing most of the time anyway. I mull over about a hundred dates we can do over face time when Van texts me.
VWkingston: Classic picnic. Red checkered blanket, wicker basket, and wine. Jazzy music in the park.
I stare at the phone a moment before I dial his number. He picks up on the first ring.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
“Are we going to sit six feet away from each other while the single dog walkers and runners give us side eye?”
“Fair point. How about we picnic from the roof top? I’ll set up mine and you set up yours and we can debate the best deli in the city.”
“I think that will work. I’m sorry to shoot down your idea. It sounds lovely all things considered.” It really does. What I wouldn’t give to hand feed my boss fresh grapes from my lap and sip on wine while the regular park goers do their thing around us.
“Okay, give me an hour and we’ll meet back in our chat room.”