New Year's Steve

Flicker.

She wrinkles her nose and huffs. “That’s bad. How are you getting any work done?”

I shake my head. “Just powering through, that’s all we can do.”

She walks back to the door, leaning against the frame. “I’ll bring you something from your favorite taco truck so you remember to eat.”

The look I give her is a grateful one. “Oh my god, I would love you for that.”

Her hands give a little tap. “Okay — don’t work too hard and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Right.

Okay, Felicity. Focus.

Minor interruption, big task trying to regroup.

I shake my hands and stretch my fingers, blow out a puff of air and sip from the mug resting near the funky blow up letters that say HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So cute.

Grinning when I bend my head, I do my best not to let my thoughts stray, reciting numbers in my mind. Accounting things. Numbers. Adding. Debits. Credits.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

Stop it, you have work to do. Your date isn’t until tomorrow night.

For the briefest of a second, the fluorescent panel above me goes off again.

“You have got to be freaking kidding me.”

Irritated, I swipe the phone off its cradle — the old-fashioned kind where you have to poke the buttons with your fingers and not tap a screen — and dial the maintenance office for the umpteenth time this week.

I’m not even a bit surprised when Old Man Skeeter (the head of maintenance) doesn’t answer and frustrated, slam the phone back down.

“Come on, seriously?!” There has to be someone down there. This building is huge, I’m guessing there’s at least a dozen people on the custodial staff.

Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my bunny slipper clad feet out in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I dial the number again, looking up at the ceiling while I wait for the beep I know is coming.

Beep! “Hi Skeeter. It’s Felicity in accounting. Again. The florescent light above my desk is still flickering and it’s starting to give me a migraine.” It’s not, but I’m not above using dramatics at this point. “If you can please send someone my way to fix it, I’d be so grateful. There’s no better way to start off the New Year than with a new light, right?”

The fuck?

A new light? How about sending me one that works!

I frown at my own stupid use of words, seriously needing to focus my attention on these numbers so I’m not stuck here until tomorrow night. Cancelling my date would royally suck.

It’s either that or doing something drastic like “accidentally” photocopying my butt as the ultimate procrastination.

I realize that I’m still holding the phone.

Shit. “Okay, so thank you.”

I quickly hang up, reaching for my favorite mug with the Winter Camellia printed on it, and decide I need a refill. Heading to the break room to get more chocolate milk is just what I need to get my head back in the game. And yes — I am a grown ass woman drinking chocolate milk out of a flower mug. What can I say? It’s not a crime, it’s my guilty pleasure.

Throw in some ice and it tastes like a milk shake, la di da!

I’m so fancy.

Cell in the palm of my hand (because it goes with me everywhere, let’s be honest), I head upstairs one floor where the good break room is. Just as I exit the elevator, my heart skips a beat when I see a LoveSwept message from Steve.

Steve: Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Just wanted to pop on and tell you how excited I am for tomorrow night!

For weeks, he and I have been flirting over an online dating app. He seems kind and smart and genuine. I love the mysterious vibe he has, along with the faceless pics he uses. His looks remain to be seen, because he’s that guy online with silhouette pictures or, worse, a blurry face, but I will say this: his profile boasts a strong nose and chiseled jawline.

Gainfully employed. Athletic. Loves to travel and is looking for his partner in crime.

Hellooo, he’s a keeper, I just know it. And did I mention, his witty banter is on. point.

Better still, he’s asked me if I’d be his New Year’s Eve date! New Year’s Eve with Steve.

New Year’s Steve.

“Ha! That’s funny. Good one Felicity.”

Oh man, I need to get out more. My jokes suck.

But I can’t go anywhere until I have to get these last accounts reviewed, and the light keeps making my eyes bug out, so it would appear that I’m at something of an impasse.

Which means, I have to take matters into my own hands, and handle the lighting situation in my office myself. And by myself, I mean I’m going to go hunt someone down, not fix the actual problem. Once I get my chocolate fix, of course.