The New Girl

Here is another piece of me. I hope you all enjoy.

XOXO SkylerLuv

******

“Have you seen the new girl yet?” Pen whispers as she nears my cubicle.

Her short copper hair is pushed aside by a small yellow pin. She is dressed in business attire but it does nothing to hide her curves. Penelope is just your average attractive redhead with green eyes. Her charming personality is another plus and the main reason we are friends. Not a lot of people can deal with my dry and sometimes dark humor. Had we met in high school we would have never crossed paths. Or maybe we would have. She claims to have been friends with everyone at her high school. I do not doubt it.

I go through my emails, trying to wake up after getting a late start to my morning.

“No, and I don’t really care.” I blow a strand of hair away from my face. I often use my hair to build a curtain around me. On good days, it was voluminous enough to shield me from the curious whispers of those around me. Today it is acting tame but I know it is only a matter of time before it gets a mind of its own. I don’t mind as long as it keeps people away. It is glossy and black, coming down in loose waves stopping just above my elbows today. I didn’t have the upper body strength or patience to put it up today.

I think back to how short it was when I started here. The longer it grew, the less inclined I was to get to know others. Each inch marking a friendship I have passed up on. I have been with this company for one whole year and not a lot of people can say much about me, aside from Pen. They know I work hard, turn in my work on time, and stay out of anyone’s way while maintaining a good name brand. They don’t know how I take my coffee, what music I listen to, or what my favorite dish is. To them, I am seconds away from laser shooting anyone who tries to impose themself in my private life. They are not completely off target.

At 5 feet and 5 inches, with soft curves and dark eyes I am nothing but a plain Jane. I have no freckles or beauty marks to make me memorable. I normally wear dark color suits to work, comfortable shoes, and just hints of makeup. Mascara, eye liner, chapstick, and eye shadow if I am feeling adventurous. My dark hair is probably my best attribute but still not enough to make people fall over themselves. If they do, it is usually because of my death stare. Okay, maybe I am being a little dramatic. But I definitely do not smile as much as women are expected to. A lot less than even the gruffiest old fart that works here.

I recently graduated college, and this is my first job straight out of college. I have my own apartment and a car. I rarely drink, never smoke, and think Netflix is all I needed to have a good night. Books used to be my guilty pleasure but I haven’t done it in a long time. My parents live across the country and I talk to them every so often. At this moment they are more engaged with my younger brother, Bobbie, who is in his second year of college.

Personal details like that just seem trivial to me. Why would anyone care and why would I offer that information? Pen is the only person who knows some things and that’s because she’s not afraid of me or my answers. She voluntarily gives me too much information but I have learned to listen when I can and ignore her when I want. Although she makes it hard when she talks about her interesting life. I often wonder what I would do in certain situations she puts herself in but then I remember I am not the star of this show and I get over it.

“I hear she is cute.” She brings me back to the present.

“Again, I don’t really care. What are you doing in my work space anyways?” I shoo her hip away from the corner of my desk.

“Your cubicle is right near the restrooms. If I was new, that would be the first place I would go to once I made myself comfortable.” She continues to lean against my desk and brushes my attitude away. “Might want to drink some coffee before introducing yourself. You need a quick pick me up.” Her eyes continue to stray towards the restroom doors.

“Pen, any other morning I would entertain your whims, but I really need to prepare for our meeting this morning. Don’t you have a short presentation as well?” I grumble.

Pen works in the sales department while I work in IT. Once a month we have a meeting with other departments to go over any pressing changes or just to give an update on how the different aspects of the business are going. Today is that day. Yay.

She stomps her feet and practically whimpers. “Give me a break Annie! This is the most exciting thing that has happened since you got here. Hearing people talk about your dark features and even darker personality. I couldn’t get through a single conversation that didn’t involve you.” She lightly pushes my shoulder. “For a second I thought you would be competition for the next office cutie but I still hold that crown.”

“I would never fight you over that crown and you know that. Plus, the guys here are nothing to fight over.” I reply to one last email and open my presentation slides to look over them once more.

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re into girls and you never find anyone attractive.” Her eyes are glued to the restroom door. She pretends to pick up some papers on my desk and shuffles through them to look busy.

I snatch them out of her hands and finally get up to push her out of my cubicle. Just like no one in the office knows what kind of music I listen to, no one can say what my sexual preference is. It is probably one of the most interesting facts about me and one that I prefer to keep on the down low. No need to call any unwanted attention to myself.

She pushes against me but I grab her shoulders and force her to turn her around so that I am pushing her from behind.

“Out!” I grumble.

“Oof!” A little too late I realize I just pushed Pen into an oncoming stranger who has just spilled coffee all over their white blouse.

My eyes widen, the blood rushes to my cheeks.

Pen throws her hands up in a defensive position. The stranger stands there, registering what just happened. For a few excruciating long seconds no one says anything.

Pen is the first one to break the silence. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t-” She runs away from the scene, leaving the new hire and myself alone.

Her hair is up in a high bun with long bangs almost touching her eyelashes. She has light brown eyes and a darker skin tone than I do. I have to look up at her because she’s wearing heels and she is naturally taller than I am. She has more pronounced curves than I do but not as much as Pen. I look at her ruined white top and rush up to her before stopping inches away from her body. My hands are out as if I want to clean her shirt but I have nothing to clean it with.

“I’m sorry.” I ball my hands into fist and drop them at my sides. She gives me a small smile and for some reason that makes me feel even worse. I feel my eyes begin to get misty and my fists begin to shake. Get a grip! I don’t get emotional at work. Especially not over something so small. Something so insignificant.

But that is such a classic move for me. While most might be mistaken and think that I am coordinated and always have my shit together I am actually a major clutz. The reason people think otherwise is because I am always super careful with anything that I do and it takes me almost twice as long to do something if I want it done perfectly. If I am ever put on the spot that requires me to be any type of athletic test, I am royally screwed. Even getting coffee is sometimes a feat that I have to carry out before anyone gets into the office. Whenever I am not careful I just mess things up. Like this poor girl’s shirt.

“It is okay.” Her voice comes out deeper than I expect. She sticks out her hand.

I stare at it, not wanting to shake her hand lest she feels how much my own is shaking.

“Do you have another shirt to change into?” I avoid looking directly into her eyes. I know she can see I am on the verge of tears and that makes it even worse. She should be the one that is crying. I ruined her shirt before she even got to start her first day at work.

She opens her mouth but just shakes her head. She even has the audacity to look embarrassed, as if this is any of her fault. This is not her mess to clean up, it is mine.

With new determination in my eyes, I go back into my office to snatch my car keys and log out of my computer. I have 15 minutes before our meeting. I grab her arm and drag her out through the back of the building, towards the garage.

“Umm…” She doesn’t say anything else.

I continue to pull her along.

I finally let go once we are at the back of my old Sentra. I pop the trunk and rummage through the duffle bag I keep back here for emergencies like this. There are a couple of work pants, some stockings, and finally some blouses. I glance back to look at her a couple of times and finally go with one that I think will fit her.

I close my trunk and then pull her to the side of my car so that we can’t be seen by anyone nearby. I am in the zone, the solution zone, ready to save the day and make everything better. It is not until I try to unbutton her shirt that she grabs my hands and speaks up.

“What are you doing?” The curiosity in her eyes is evident. No annoyance or disgust.

I finally snap out of it and realize what I was just about to do. “Sorry.” I snatch my hands back.

She clutches the blouse I gave her.

“Just try that on, it might be a little small but it will be better than what you have on.” I turn my back to give her some privacy. Looking down at my watch I think about wringing Pen’s neck. She is just as much at fault as I am. She ran away as soon as it came down to fixing the problem. There would not have even been a problem if I started my morning alone. Still, I knew I would not blame Pen if it came down to pointing fingers.

My eyes stray to the car next to me. It is hard to miss the mirror pointed directly at the new girl behind me. I try to pry my gaze away but curiosity wins. The black blazer she was wearing is now on top of my car. She unbuttons the white shirt and pulls it out of her black slacks. She’s wearing a plain white bra. No lace, nothing fancy. And yet I feel my cheeks heating up. Her breasts are big enough to fill the cups. My gaze travels down and I notice a small scar above her belly button.

She stops moving and I look up at her face to see her staring straight at me. My eyes widen and I clear my throat before looking away.

“Thank you.” She murmurs after some time.

I turn back and look at how my shirt fits on her. Because her breasts are bigger and she is taller, the shirt comes down just enough to cover her stomach.

“I’m really sorry.” I try apologizing again. Not only did I ruin her shirt, but I just stared at her like some pervert as she changed into my shirt. I am the literal worst.

She shakes her head. “No harm, no foul. I just have to remember not to raise my hands today. See you around.” Her hand raises a bit as she waves.

I find it hard to look away from the exposed skin between the hem of the shirt and top of her slacks.

******

I can’t completely ignore her during the meeting.

Just like all others have done before her, she is made to stand up and introduce herself as the new hire. She also has to sing a song and opts for some Katy Perry song I heard on the radio. When I was put on the spot like that, I went with some old nursery rhyme that was hard to mess up. I miss her name because I am completely focused on my notes. I don’t want to ask those around me because then it would show that I am actually interested. I can’t let them think that.

People fall in love with her during the meeting. I can’t lie, she does have some type of enthralling energy. She is personable and attractive. Eager to learn about the company and ready to get her hands dirty. She’s going to be in sales with Pen’s group.

Pen. I roll my eyes.

After the meeting she rushes to my side and apologizes for leaving me alone with the new girl.

“I rushed to the restroom to get paper towels but they were all out. I tried to go to the second-floor restroom but by the time I came back you both were gone.” She is pouting and trying to be cute.

“I told you I didn’t care who the new girl was. That was all your fault.” I won’t let her off so easily. I could have gone through my morning without any of that.

“I said I was sorry!” She’s whining again.

I block the entrance to my cubicle and glare at her. “Enough. Just leave me out of your dumb antics in the future.”

She sighs and hangs her head. “Fine. Will you finally forgive me?”

I cross my arms. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

That is enough to have her practically skipping back to her desk. All if forgiven.

We rarely argue. Mostly because I don’t care to waste my time with arguments and because she usually always gets what she wants. Since she is the only one who will tolerate me it is hard to stay mad at her.

******

I don’t see the new hire for the rest of the week.

She is kept busy with training from her team members. Pen gives me a play by play of how she is doing and how quickly she is able to pick up some of the sales terminology. Her team is happy to have her, just like everyone else in the office. I don’t miss how others change the way they talk or stand when she is heading their way. That is usually my cue to leave. Seeing her is just a reminder of how I almost lost it at work over some spilled coffee.

While I try to avoid her for personal reasons, I make sure to leave a cup of coffee with cream and sugar packets on her desk every morning. She probably knows it is from me but is nice enough not to mention it. The ebbing embarrassment renews every time I set the coffee down on her desk. I get there early enough not to have to explain to anyone else why I am doing it. Especially to Pen. Knowing her, she can see the coffee thing as something more than an apology. I decide one week’s worth of coffee should be enough to get my apology across.

Pen can’t seem to stop talking about her though. In the morning, during lunch, even after work she gives me little details about Quin. Quin is an odd name but I don’t mention it. In fact I pretend not to care about anything Pen says when it comes to her. Partly because I don’t see why I should give her any importance and the other because I don’t want Pen to assume I am interested in her. Quin… doesn’t really roll off the tongue.

I’m logging out of my computer and gathering my things as Pen goes on and on about today’s training session with Quin. Apparently, the customers fall for her charms just as easily as others in the office do.

“Her voice is just so reassuring and caring. Not something you can fake so easily.” Pen babbles on and on and I finally tune her out. If I keep tabs of everything the new girl is doing, I could be promoted to stalker status without meaning to. So far, I know that she is caring, beautiful, and laid back. Things I could have attested for myself just from looking at her. She is also very loyal, smart, and eager to please the hire ups. She’ll do good. I think. I don’t know for sure and I don’t care.

“Okay, Pen.” I finally sigh out loud. That is her cue to stop talking. There is only so much I can listen to without getting a headache.

“Fine.” She hops off my desk and walks with me as we head out the back door.

We walk in silence towards our respective cars. She parked on the other side of the garage. We say goodbye before turning in opposite directions. We’re one of the last ones in the office, leaving only a couple of cars on the first level.

I don’t notice the new girl leaning against my car until I almost run into her.

She is wearing a dark gray business suit and a beige shirt. Her black pumps give her more inches to tower over me. The suit is fitted. Very fitted. I try to ignore it.

“Are you avoiding me?” Her tone doesn’t sound accusatory. Her tone is playful. Something I am not used to. Even Pen knows to stay away from things like that if she wants me to take her seriously.

Does she not know who I am? I’m sure by now she has gotten a run down on who is who in the office and who to stay away from. Then again, Pen probably gave her some misinformation.

“No.” I don’t smile back. In the back of my mind all I can see is her coffee-stained white shirt. Ruined. Because of me.

My reaction doesn’t deter her. “Here.” She gives me a brown shopping bag.

I take it and stare into it. I expect to see the gray blouse I let her borrow but instead I see a tan turtleneck shirt and a bar of chocolate. The overly priced one they sell at retail stores.

“What is this?” I don’t want to sound rude but it is not what I expected.

“It is a thank you gift.” Like Pen, she does not seem bothered by my forwardness.

“Where is the shirt I gave you?” My face is as blank as the garage walls surrounding us.

“You know, most people would be grateful.” Her smile is gone and she actually looks somewhat annoyed.

“I don’t like chocolate. And I don’t wear turtlenecks.” No point in lying to her.

“Oh.” She shrugs. “I thought the shirt would look nice on you.”

We stare at each other for an awkward moment and when I finally have had enough of… whatever this is, I make a move towards my front door. “See you around.”

“Bye Anne.” She walks to the driver’s side of the SUV parked next to my car.

******

The light on my phone blinks a couple of times before I reach to grab it.

I place my drink next to it and answer it.

“Hi mom.” There is an inflection in my tone meant to sound excited. Excitement is not what I would use to describe my conversations with my mom.

“Hi, darling.” The endearment falls flat. “Just wanted to check in. It has been a while.”

Has it been three weeks already? Our calls are like clockwork. Almost as precise as my visits, which are only on major holidays and her birthday. “Work has kept me busy.”

She sighs, following her script to a T. “Well, your father misses you.”

“I know, I will see if I can visit soon.” My father is probably sitting in his favorite chair, watching an old football game, not at all missing my presence. “Have you talked to Bobbie?”

Talking to my mom doesn’t give me the comfort it would give most. She’s not mean but she’s also not warm. She tries hard to be caring but to an extent. I don’t blame her and yet I wish she would try just a little more. I’m not the little girl that would beg for her attention or ask to get a hug or a kiss to feel better. Maybe because I know it will not make me feel better. But I know I am too critical and too harsh and have high expectations. I have to remind myself that I am lucky that I have a mother who calls at all.

“He’s doing well.” She chats some more about how she’s doing and how her garden is holding up. She sighs again, not unusual but more noticeable than before.

“Are you okay? You sound tired.” I imagine her leaning against our old kitchen counter, holding on to the cabled phone in one hand and the other inside the pocket of her washed out green apron. Her shabby curls are probably untamed from the heat of the pots and pans. She probably just finished cooking.

“Yes,” That is all I get.

Being vulnerable is not something we have much practice in. It is hard not to be concerned when she doesn’t add anything else.

“Do you need help with anything?” I already know the answer.

“No, you just make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” She’s probably patting her hand against her hip now. Our conversation has run its course and we are going off script now.

“I miss you guys.” I throw out there. Because I hope that if I am honest, it will push her to do the same.

“Take care, sweetheart.” Click.

******

On Wednesday afternoon the following week I run into Quin in the restroom.

She’s washing her hands as I come out of the stall.

“Hi Anne.” She gives me a pleasant smile.

I give her a professional smile and wash my hands. I look at my dark blue blazer and white shirt underneath trying to figure out how I must look to her. I let my hair fall to the side to block her from my peripheral vision.

I steal glances at her from the mirror. Her light green blouse makes her brown eyes look brighter. Her breasts are hard to ignore with the type of blouse. It accentuates each curve perfectly. I gulp. Does she usually take this long washing her hands? I continue to wash my hands until she dries hers.

“Bye Anne.” The door closes behind her.

Her voice leaves an echo.

I hear it ringing for the rest of the day. While I am skimming through dozens of emails, as I am taking apart an employee’s laptop to fix a broken screen, even as I am on my hands and knees to check a cable connection for an ancient old printer. Especially then. I put a stop to it as soon as I realized I checked the same cable three times.

******

“I heard she likes wine.” Ricky is looking over his desk to talk to Laura. The way he usually does when he wants to gossip.

“Really?” Laura sounds surprised. “I thought I heard someone say she is more into liquor than wine.”

I try to ignore their whispers as I help a customer on the line but the more I try to tune them out the louder they seem to get. Our team leader is out for the day, as he usually is Thursday afternoons. Of course, they feel like they can slack off because of it.

“Ms.Knits, can you please hold on for one second? I will be right back.” I place her on hold and try to get up to reprimand these loud employees. The wired headset pulls my head back, making me realize it is still connected to the computer. I lean back to remove it carefully but some strands still get caught on it. I look around to make sure no one saw that. Running a hand through my loose curls I control my steps out of my office.

“Can the two of you stop talking so loud?” I walk over to stand in between their cubicles.

They both snap back to their desks and pretend to look over some documents on their computers.

It is bad enough Pen constantly talks about the new girl, now I have to hear it from people in my own department? Not on my watch.

******

During lunch on Friday, Pen brings up the fourth of July cookout the office plans to organize. It will be two weeks from now.

We often have lunch outside of our office to enjoy the sunlight and get some fresh air. Being in the building for too long can cause anyone to have cabin fever. Plus, it is a nice spot to watch people from the green metal tables set out by corporate. We’re right across from a strip mall full of restaurants, dry cleaners, a grocery store, and a Starbucks. It is always busy in the little part of town. Today is no exception, especially with the nice weather.

“They are still looking for some volunteers, you know.” She nudges me with her pointy elbow.

“You know I never go to those things. Why start now?” I remove the soggy lettuce from my burger. Today is my cheat day and I have been looking forward to this all week.

“I think you have been in your shell for far too long. One year is enough time for you to get settled and acquainted with everyone.” She pushes her salad around and stares at my burger.

“I’m just here to work. I’m not looking for a second family or more friends.” Out of habit I start to cut my burger in half. I give one piece to Pen and start working on my own half.

She squeals and she bites into the juicy meat. “I think you should try and put yourself out there more.” Her salad is completely forgotten on the tray in front of her.

“Why would I do that?” I take a bite of some fries.

We watch people walk by on the busy sidewalk. There is a teenager flipping a sign for a tax preparation company on the other side of the shopping center. The food trucks that come to the side of our building have gained popularity since I have been here. I have yet to have a bad dish. I briefly wonder why Pen hasn’t invited the new girl to eat with us but I prefer it this way. Being around her did not sound appealing to me.

“I won’t always be here, Annie. Who will you talk to then?” She bites into the burger again. She always talks about how one day she will leave this job and never look back. We both know the pay is too good to walk away without at least glancing back.

The thought of not being around Pen does make me stop and think for a second. Even if she didn’t leave, she might be promoted. She has the numbers and the personality to lead her own team. If she became a manager, we would see less of each other. It would be sad if she were to leave but I would eventually get over it. I always have and always will. All throughout high school and college I made friends that eventually moved on with their lives and never talked to again. Still, Pen will be really hard to replace.

“Gary.” I answer without smiling.

She giggles. She knows I hate Gary. Gary who likes to do the bare minimum and will unload any work he can onto unsuspecting victims.

“Just say you’ll come to the cookout and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t even push you into volunteering.” She bats her eyelashes.

I shake my head. “If you promise to stop talking about it, I will think about it.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You have to promise me you will go.”

“Fine.” I say it mostly to shut her up and also because I know I have nothing better to do that day.

******

On Tuesday afternoon Quin walks around each department handing out flyers for the cookout. This year the sales team is in charge of organizing it. Last year it was the marking team and from what I heard they did a really good job. Lots of fun games, tasty food and, of course, free booze.

By the time she reaches my desk I am already expecting her. The excited whispers of those who love to get a glimpse of Quin is hard to miss. My nose is in some handwritten notes when I hear a faint knock against the cushioned cubicle wall.

“Hi Anne.” She walks into my office and sits on the only other chair in the small space. Her long legs are close to mine. I shift away.

I pretend to be distracted, still looking down at my notes, and give her a slight nod. In reality I feel my hands clamming up. I don’t know why. Maybe because Quin is not scared to look me straight at me or talk to me. While others shy away, she likes the challenge of talking to me. Unlike Pen though, she doesn’t reap any reward. I still think the reward is not worth the effort. Having me as a friend can’t be that enjoyable.

“Will you be going to the fourth of July cookout?” She places a flyer in front of my notes and I finally look at her.

“Yes.”

She smiles and stands. “Great! I’ll be serving drinks.”

I nod and continue to stare at her. I expect her to back down or look away but she does neither. Instead, we both stare at each other for a second too long. The longer I stare, the brighter her eyes get. I have to shift my gaze to a poster behind her.

“I’ll let you get back to work.” I can hear the smirk on her lips.

******

A week before the cookout I start to feel out of it.

While at my desk I start to get the chills and a slight headache begins to form. I drink orange juice all day but the tickle in my throat starts to get worse.

I’m walking back from the printer with a stack of reports in hand when I spot Quin walking around the corner. Any other day I would have walked in the other direction even if it took me longer to get to my office. I don’t have the energy to avoid Quin today. It seems like an impossible task.

“Anne?” She stands in front of me, blocking my path. “Are you okay?” The back of her cool hand comes up to my forehead.

I weakly push her hand away. “What are you doing?”

“You look really sick. Anne, you need some rest.” I don’t miss the concerned look in her eyes. It is a similar look that my mom gave me when I was a little girl.

“I’m fine.” I try to move past her but she grabs my arm.

She walks towards my cubicle and starts to gather my things. I don’t have an ounce of fight left in me. My eyes are getting droopier and I can’t deny that I feel under the weather anymore. She puts some sticky notes on my monitor and grabs my car keys.

I just stand there and watch as she makes some calls from my phone. She hands me my orange juice and keeps putting her hand against my forehead. She texts some people on her personal phone. All the while I feel myself getting worse by the minutes.

“Here.” She gives me her thin sweater when she sees me shivering.

I shake my head but she already has it over my shoulders before I can talk. It smells divine. Expensive. I hang on to the smell.

We walk towards the garage in silence. I get into the passenger side of my car and she gets on the driver’s side. I lay my forehead against the cool window. It feels nice. I close my eyes and allow the hum of the motor to lull me to sleep.

The next time I open my eyes I am in bed, a wet towel on my forehead.

“Here.” Quin’s voice comes from the corner of the room. She removes the towel and puts a glass of water against my lips.

“What time is it?” I ask when I notice the street lights outside.

“About 8 at night.” She gives me more water to drink.

My body feels like lead. I can’t really move but I feel uncomfortable in my bed. I’ve sweated through my clothes and my sheets. I haven’t gotten this sick in so long. It would be more alarming had I not gotten used to getting terribly sick for a couple of days every other year. It was a fair trade off in my opinion.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, irritated. I don’t need to be looked after like a baby.

“I’m doing Pen a favor.” She pushes the covers off me and pulls me up so I am sitting. “She was not in today and asked me to take care of you while she ran some errands.”

“I don’t need you guys to look after me.” I say as she goes through my drawer looking for some comfortable clothes for me to wear.

“Of course, you don’t.” She gives me a change of clothes. “Change into this while I go make you some soup. Then I can change the sheets for you.”

“Were you a doctor in a past life?” This chip on my shoulder feels heavier today.

“No,” She laughs. “I just have three younger siblings. Which is why I also know you just need some rest to get better.” She leaves me alone in my room.

I want to change my clothes and hop back into bed but I know I will be uncomfortable. I go into my shower and turn on the water. I need to clean this sweat off me. It is a quick shower, mostly filled with body wash and light shampoo and conditioner. I put on the sweat pants and t-shirt Quin picked out for me. I even get a chance to take the fitted sheets off my bed before she comes back in. She has a tray with a bowl and a glass of water.

“I’ll do that.” She places the tray on the dresser and puts the new bed sheet on. I watch her move around my room like she has been here many times before and she does this for me all of the time. It is odd to see. Only Pen has been over my place but she has never been in my room.

Once she is done, she urges me back on the bed and places the tray on my legs.

“Do you need me to feed you?” Her tone is slightly playful. I hate it.

I scowl at her. “No.”

I snatch the spoon and dip it into the yellowish broth.

“Hope you like chicken soup.” She sits on the side of the bed and watches me as I eat. I feel self-conscious but it passes after I get a taste of the soup. The flavors feel different against my tongue. I know it is because I am sick. Ugh, I hate being sick. Mostly because it will put me behind at work.

“What are you upset about now?” She smirks.

Her smile is pretty. Quin, with her bright brown eyes, is smirking at me. Why does that make me feel even more out of it than being sick?

“I picked the worst time to get sick. I am going to have so much work to do when I get back.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this, she probably doesn’t really care.

“You just get some rest and worry about getting well soon.” She removes the soup once I finish and places it on the dresser. She comes back to the bed and touches my forehead with the back of her hand. “Your fever has gone down.”

I pull away from her touch and shift further into the bed.

“I will be back to check on you tomorrow.” She picks up the tray.

“You’re leaving?” Did I expect her to stay?

“Unless you need me to stay?” She gives me a curious look.

I shake my head.

“Thank you.” I say before she closes the door behind her.

******

The next day I stay in bed all day. I drink some of the medicine Quin left on the bedside table. I’m tempted to pull out my laptop and catch up on some work but for some reason I feel like I owe it to her to rest and make myself feel better. Ugh, so stupid.

I toss and turn in bed, getting up a couple of times when I feel too uncomfortable to sit down. I open my window during midday to let some sunlight and fresh air into my room. The sunlight becomes too much and I shut it after some time. I wonder how she will get back into my apartment. Maybe she took my keys. I mean, it makes sense. I didn’t lock the door behind her and I don’t think she would have left it unlocked while I am alone here.

The day drags on and I keep looking at the time, waiting for her to come. My stomach feels full, I don’t want to eat anything. I keep my ears open but there is only silence. I turn on my side and drift off to sleep after some time. I am jolted awake when I feel a hand against my forehead.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure your fever stayed under control.” Quin leans closer to my face and looks into my eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

I lick my lips and pull away. “What time is it?” It is dark in my room. The only light is coming from the other bedside lamp.

“About 7 at night.” She motions for me to sit and places the same tray with a different soup on my lap.

“Why are you late?” Stare up at her. She’s wearing a light brown suit with an off-white blouse.

She chuckles. “I had some work to finish up before coming here. I didn’t know I kept you waiting, I’m sorry.” The apology sounds honest but she is smirking.

I shift my gaze towards the soup and avoid looking at her. “I mean, why did you come in the first place? I told you I don’t need you to take care of me.”

The soup tastes delicious. That must mean I am feeling better and can probably be back at work before the week is done.

“What have you eaten today?” She moves to wipe a drop of soup from the side of my lip but I move away and use the back of my hand to clean it.

I ignore her question and continue to eat in silence.

“Does my presence bother you?” She removes her ponytail and her hair cascades down her shoulders. It is a few shades darker than her eyes but nowhere near as dark as mine. I catch a whiff of flowers and my mouth waters.

Again, I ignore her question and continue to eat in silence.

Once I am done, she takes the tray from me and leaves my room.

I wring my hands and debate on calling her back or leaving her alone.

“Quin?” I call out. I hope it is loud enough for her to hear.

A few seconds later she opens the door and pokes her head around. She doesn’t make a move to come in.

“I’m sorry and thank you.” It is hard to look at her straight on when I know that my hair is a mess and I probably look like death.

Her smile is warm. “Anything for you, Anne.” The sincerity melts my heart.

She closes the door and doesn’t come back after.

******

The next day is pretty much the same. I move around some more, feeling better than the day before. I even get to shower and make myself look more presentable. I pass the time by trying to read a book I left on my bedside table but my mind keeps going back to her. There is nothing I can really do to stop it. Nothing to distract myself with. Although I am confused as to why she would take it upon herself to look after me, I am glad she is. Having her see me sick beyond recognition is not as bad as if someone else from the office saw me like this.

She comes closer to five this time and brings me a veggie soup.

Halfway through my meal I look up at her, watch as she leans against the window to look down at the cars. Her navy-blue suit is tight enough on her ass to look like spandex. Maybe I am overreacting but I know it is tight enough that it is almost impossible to look away from. My spoon slips and splashes into the soup. My face burns from the drops of hot soup and the embarrassment of acting like a fool in front of her.

“Sorry.” I apologize and decide I’ve had enough to eat for the day.

She comes to sit at the edge of my bed and take a sip of the soup. My mouth is glued to her lips. She’s drinking from the same spoon I just drank from. Our lips have practically touched.

“What are you doing? You’ll get sick.” I croak.

“Just making sure the soup was good. You barely drank any.” She smirks but removes it from my lap. “I think you should be good to come back to work next week.”

“I am just going to give myself the rest of the afternoon off and go back tomorrow.”

She huffs but doesn’t argue. “Your house, your rules.” She’s walking towards the door with the tray. She probably won’t come back to my room after she cleans the dish.

“I really do appreciate everything you have done for me.” I know my cheeks are blazing and for some reason my voice is small. The thought of her making food for me and checking in on me is enough to make me cry into next week but I hold it in. I don’t want to scare her. I don’t want to scare myself.

“Just make sure you feel better before actually going back to work. You’re not missing out on anything important.” She leaves again.

******

The next morning, I feel better and decide it is good enough to go into work. My keys are hanging by the entrance. My door is locked. Has she been using Pen’s key? Pen insisted on having one in case of an emergency, the same way she gave me one of her keys. So much for being there for me in my time of need.

Some people greet me in the morning when I walk into the office. They even say they are glad that I am feeling better. It is different but I don’t mind it. I have never called out in the past, so I guess they like seeing this human side of me that does fail sometimes. I guess I have finally proven that I am not a robot.

I’m getting settled in my chair when Pen walks straight to the chair next to my desk. “Oh my God, I am so glad you’re alive!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” I power on my computer and start going through emails.

“Quin wouldn’t let me come see you! She said she didn’t want me to catch whatever bug you had.”

“How thoughtful of her.” I keep going through emails, ignoring the slight blush on my cheek at the mention of Quin’s name. Her soft, cool hand touched my face more times than I care for. And if I am being honest with myself that was very thoughtful of her. But I can’t deal with mushy feelings right now. I only deal with what I am familiar with and that is mild annoyance.

“She is very thoughtful!” Pen points to a stack of papers on my desk. “She got your team to help with your workload.”

I stop looking at my screen and look through the sheets. Sure enough, the tickets are closed and resolved. I look through the names and my heart races. Everyone on the team came together to help. Even Gary. My heart melts at the thought of Quin asking others to help me and the fact that others did.

I immediately get up and walk to each member’s desk to thank them for helping me. They look taken aback and even intimidated but I feel better knowing that I thanked them personally. My tiny heart beats loud at the camaraderie displayed by my team. Maybe I’m still sick.

Once I am back at my desk, I ignore the tightening in my throat.