New Year's Steve

My phone screen illuminates again, Steve’s name popping up and making my heart sore.

Steve: Less than 24 hours!

Ugh, he is so romantic!

Mug in hand, I hang a right toward the break room, wandering through the lobby, heading toward the bank of elevators on this floor.

New Year’s decorations are on full display out here, too, spreading that McGinnis holiday cheer.

The McGinnis Agency may be known for representing some of the best and biggest sports names in the world and raking in millions upon millions of dollars in commission rates per year, but if the company goes belly up? They can always move into holiday party planning.

No expense is spared on a McGinnis Office party. Even the elevators are decorated. Pretty sure someone even put up some mistletoe in there until HR made them take it down (and I’m pretty sure it was Meg).

Funny how Skeeter down in maintenance jumped right on that. I saw the crotchety old goat tearing it down with a grin on his face.

New Year’s Eve falls on a Friday this year, which means we’ll all still be working. Maybe not a full work day, but the staff is supposed to be here just the same. Sports agents never get a day off; not when their clients are playing in championships, Pro-Bowls, tournaments, play-offs, games — you name it — on any given holiday.

I may just be an accountant, but I put in the hours, too.

Me: Hey, I was just thinking about you. I’m excited too! And technically it’s eighteen hours, thirty-two minutes — but who’s counting LOL.

Just as I’m about to slide my cell into the tiny pocket of my pencil skirt, my phone pings again.

“Eeek!” I squeal that his reply only takes a few moments — something I love about him — marveling at the fact that Steve isn’t the type of guy who waits to text back purposely to play it cool.

My bunny slippers shuffle along the tile floor as I make my way to the break room fridge.

Yes, I’m wearing bunny slippers with my business attire with no shame. At least I have a skirt on. You never know when someone important is going to request a Zoom meeting, and you find out the hard way your camera angle is set wrong.

I’ve never been caught in a precarious position like that, mostly because my co-worker Frank learned that lesson for us all.

Twice.

I really shouldn’t know he’s a Fruit of the Loom whitey-tighty kind of man.

I swipe right and open Steve’s newest message.

Steve: Good thing one of us is good with numbers.

I take a quick moment to do a happy dance, then blow out a calming breath and type.

Me: It’s not the nerdiest thing about me, you know. I was on the chess team in fifth grade, so there.

Steve: Oh yeah? I had braces in college.

Braces in college?

That makes me laugh.

Me: Aww, I bet you were adorable.

Steve: Yeah, NO. Literally not a single person thought it was adorable, and by person, I mean girls.

Me: Lucky for me I guess.

See? I can be flirty when I want to be.

Steve: What are you up to right now?

Me: Eh, just some boring work stuff. Need to get it all done so we can finally meet face to face tomorrow.

Steve: Are you nervous at all?

Actually…

Yes.

YES. I am nervous!

I want to text him “MY GOD YES!” but know that’s probably not the best idea. Makes me sound eager and spastic. No need to scare the poor guy away — let him get used to me first before he finds out what an utter goofball I am. No, it’s best to play this aloof.

Me: I feel like it’s been a long time coming. Fingers crossed we enjoy each other in person as much as we do online.

There is nothing worse than two weeks’ worth of build up for one giant evening of a letdown. Believe me, I know. This will be my third match in the past two months, and no matter what my gut is telling me about this one, there’s always a chance it’s going to flop.

Me: Fingers crossed for chemistry!

“Honest, yet not too desperate, wouldn’t you agree,” I say down to my bunny slippers who wiggle in agreement.

My phone dings again, but I force myself to pour my glass of milk first. I have a good feeling about this guy, but there’s always that one percent who wonders if it’s actually a catfish on the other end.

Once my mug is full and the milk is secured back in the fridge, I take a look.

Steve: So how long are you going to be at work today? It’s a holiday.

Me: You consider New Year’s Eve-Eve the holiday?

Steve: I consider every holiday the holiday, Hallmark or not.

Oh my god, Meg would love him. She absolutely cannot get enough of Christmas. Christmas trees, decorating, ugly sweaters, ridiculous earrings shaped like ornaments, lights, tinsel…