Between The Spreadsheets Page 3

  “I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.” He grabs the loaf of bread on the counter.

  “Okay, I’m not picky. Sounds good. Do you need any help?” I stand next to him.

  “The princess is willing to make her own lunch? This I gotta see.” He steps aside and waves his hand. Maybe we haven’t progressed as much as I thought.

  “What’s with all this princess crap you dish out on the regular? Is it the clothes I wear or something? I don’t think I give off a superiority vibe.” I make myself comfortable in his kitchen. I pop the bread in his toaster and go to grab the butter out of the fridge. The whole time Dylan just studies me as I work.

  “Um, don’t you need a skillet or something?” He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. It’s weird being in his apartment, but I don’t feel nervous or unwelcome, even though he’s giving me shit again.

  “No, I’m ravenous. I need this cheese in my belly now.” He squints his eyes, trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. The toast pops out. I slather butter on it. I place some cheese on one side and then pop it in the microwave to melt it a little. When I take it out of the microwave, I lay the other piece of toast on top to make my sandwich. I cut the slice in half and offer him the plate.

  “Holy shit. It took you like three minutes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. That must be some kind of record. You’re like a wizard.” He takes a massive bite and moans. I didn’t realize microwaving a sandwich could be seen as magical but I’ll take it.

  “I just have my own way of doing things, I guess.” I make my own sandwich. His eyes are glued to my every move, as if I’m some magical unicorn. “It’s not that original. I’m sure lots of college students make grilled cheese like that.” Buttering my toast, I lay the cheese on top.

  “It’s not just the way you make your grilled cheese. It’s the way you move in the kitchen. You have these little quirks that I’m sure you’re not even aware of.” He gruffs a little at his comment, like he’s said too much. Dylan attacks his sandwich. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I stare at him, bewildered. He rolls his eyes at me and finishes his bite. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, come on. I want to know what you mean by the way I move around in the kitchen.” I copy his stance and start to eat my grilled cheese. We’re both standing in the kitchen eating sandwiches together. This is cozy.

  Dylan sets his plate down since he’s finished and grabs the counter behind him. “You sway and almost dance around the kitchen. That’s the only way I can explain it. The way you pass things from one hand to the other. The way you reach and stretch for things, it’s like a ballet. You put the perfect amount of butter on the toast. You twisted the loaf of bread closed by twirling it in front of you.”

  Was he watching me that closely? I guess I don’t think about the way I do things. I just do them. I’ve never thought of myself as graceful. I don’t really know what to say. That was really sweet. I stare at him, not understanding these emotions bubbling up.

  “Just forget it. Let’s talk about something else. Do you need any other office supplies?”

  Standing there for a minute, I mull over what Dylan just said. It’s a weird comment to make about the way someone moves around the kitchen, who notices that? It may have changed how I see him a little. He seems embarrassed that he spoke about it. I feel we are making progress toward a better working relationship. At least he can say something nice for a change.

  Dylan moves over to my desk, looks it over and shakes his head. “It’s all pink. What is it with you and pink? You asked earlier why I call you princess, it’s because of all this.” He waves his hand around my desk.

  “What can I say? It makes me happy. I work better when everything looks pretty and is organized.”

  “I bet your home is like this too, isn’t it, all pink and frilly?” He chuckles to himself. I don’t really take offense though because it’s true. I take another bite of my sandwich and sit down at my desk. I believe we’re actually taking the time to get to know one another now.

  “Well, it was no shocker that your whole apartment is black, Prince of Darkness.” I smile up at him. He looks around as if he didn’t notice that his place is monochrome. His eyes settle on me after a moment and he gives me this look. I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, maybe in a new light. And just like that it’s gone.

  “I gotta go run an errand. I’ll be back before five.” He grabs his leather jacket on the way out the door. Huh, I wonder what the hell that was about. I finish my sandwich and continue getting folders together and sorted.

  At 4:55, Dylan finally graces me with his presence. There’s a quick, “Hi” and then a “See ya, tomorrow.” I’m almost pushed out the door. That has got to be the weirdest first day of work ever.

  5

  The work week passes quickly, mostly because Dylan gives me a lot of space. He’s avoiding me. It’s weird. I welcome the quiet and the time to work in his big open space. Although, I debate whether I should ask him if I can bring my pet to work. It’s been quite lonely with him barricaded in his bedroom. He handles all the calls, so I don’t have anyone to talk to unless I go out and get lunch somewhere and then it’s just giving my order.

  Standing up from my desk, I move to his bedroom door, feeling like I’m impeding on his privacy. Softly, I knock on the door. The bed squeaks and there’s shuffling then Dylan’s head pops out. He just stares at me, like I might bite him.

  “So, I was wondering if I could bring my little pet to work tomorrow? She’s potty trained and she won’t be in the way. I promise. I’m just used to a little more social interaction than this.” I look down at my feet, a little ashamed that I’m letting him know I’m lonely. Glancing back up, I give him my puppy dog eyes. Maybe it will help. He has a phone tucked to his chest, like it’s on hold.

  He seems to debate my question rather quickly. “It doesn’t chew on stuff, does it?” he whispers.

  “Oh, no. She’s perfectly harmless.” I smile big. Dylan seems to be in a hurry to get back on the phone.

  “Fine, but keep her out of my way. This is a work environment, after all.” He shuts the door quickly. “Yeah, Sam I’m still here.” His voice moves away from the door. I hop a little at my excitement. Birdie is coming to work with me! Maybe this job does have its perks! I’ve always wanted to bring my pet to work. I feel bad about leaving her home all day. She’ll be so excited.

  The next day, I walk Birdie up to his apartment and knock as usual. There hasn’t been an incident like that first day. He’s been a man of his word, so far anyway. I wait patiently for him to open the door. He unlocks it, and without a backward glance, turns away from the door. He’s already on the phone. Birdie follows me in to my desk.

  “Yeah, okay. I got it. Sounds good. Thanks, Sam.” Dylan turns around from his phone call and drops the phone on the floor. “What the hell is that?” He points toward my pet with a shocked expression.

  I motion to Birdie. “Oh, this is the pet I asked to bring to work yesterday, remember? This is Birdie. See, she’s sweet.” My little piglet makes her way over to Dylan and nudges his leg. When I moved from Alabama, Birdie had to come with me. I couldn’t leave her at home with my dad. He hardly took care of me. He threatened to turn her into bacon for years. He’s a cold human being. I’m so glad I brought her. It’s been lonely in the city. I don’t have many friends but my pig keeps me company.

  “Oh my God. You have a pet pig. I should have known you’d have something pink. Jesus, Andy, I can’t have a pig in my apartment. How do you have a pig in your apartment?” He makes no move to touch her, but he lets her rub all over him. She’s friendly to everyone, even if they are bearded monsters that go back on their word.

  “My landlord doesn’t really know about her. But, she’s just like a dog. She’s very domesticated. In fact, some people believe pigs are more intelligent than dogs.” I bend down to call Birdie to me. She trots on over and r
olls on her back so I can rub her belly. She makes the most adorable little rooting sound.

  “When you said pet I was thinking of some shelter dog, not a pig. Why couldn’t you just have a normal pet? And who the hell names a pig Birdie?” He’s exasperated with me.

  Stomping my foot like a two-year-old, I try to stop my eyes from tearing up. I knew he’d be an asshole about it. I should just expect this kind of behavior from him. “Fine, I’ll just take her back home then.” I move to the door, but Dylan rushes in front of me. I hang my head down so he can’t see the tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know why this made me so upset. Either it’s the fact that he thinks I’m weird, or that he wishes I were normal? Then he does something I’d never expect. Dylan places his finger under my chin to raise my head. The look he gives me is one of concern and remorse.

  “I’m sorry, Andy. I was just a little surprised at the situation. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Birdie can stay.” He removes his fingers from my chin and crouches down to Birdie. Dylan pats her on the back and she squeals at him, as if she knows he said she could stay. “Does she need a water bowl or anything?” I sniff and wipe my nose on the back of my hand. I hold up the pink tote I brought. It has a few of Birdie’s toys, her water bowl, snacks, treats, and food. He looks in the bag and smiles. “Even her toys are pink.” I never thought I’d see Dylan smile at something pink.

  I get over my speechlessness. “Thank you.” Birdie immediately digs out her favorite toy. It’s a Peppa Pig that squeaks. My little piglet makes herself at home on his rug, in front of the TV with Peppa. I peek at Dylan to make sure that’s all right. He rolls his eyes. I can’t believe he’s allowing her to stay. I’m surprised he didn’t give her the boot.

  “We good?” Dylan places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it.

  “Yeah,” I reply, nodding my head. A warm fuzzy feeling covers my whole body. It’s nice when Dylan doesn’t treat me like a princess. He’s actually baffled me quite a bit since working for him. His apartment is starting to feel like my home away from home, black couch and all. Dylan picks up the phone and moves to the sofa, where I see paperwork sprawled out on the coffee table. He’s such a mess. Birdie notices him on the couch and jumps up to sit next to him.

  “Uh, Andy?” He holds his hands up, like he’s under arrest.

  I laugh a little to myself. I want to see how this plays out. “Yeah?”

  Dylan lowers his hands and Birdie nudges him with her nose. His hand falls on top of her head. He pets her timidly. Everyone loves Birdie; there’s no way anyone can resist her charms. I smile at the adorable sight. This big, burly, tattooed man petting my cute pink pig. I’m getting that warm fuzzy feeling again.

  “Never mind,” he huffs. Sucker.

  The day goes by quickly. Before I know it, it’s time for Birdie and me to leave. My piglet’s been a permanent fixture at Dylan’s side. The bearded monster seems to embrace it. He loves on her when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Dylan seems a little sad to see us head out. He must get lonely too. Wait, no he’s probably going to go out and land a chick, or whatever they call it. Unless he’s still seeing that girl I met on my first day. She was pretty, even if she had just woken up. I feel a little jealous. I don’t know why. It’s not like I want to be with Dylan in that way. I mean my boss is very attractive, especially when he’s being nice. I think back to when he said I could keep Birdie. My heart flutters. Stop that heart. He’s a Prince of Darkness, bearded hipster . . . that thinks I move like a ballerina in the kitchen. I still can’t get over his unusual but sweet comment.

  I turn to say goodbye to Dylan. His face looks solemn. I’m almost tempted to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Birdie and I just stand there at his door. Dylan stares back.

  “Is something wrong, Andy?” I love how he says my name, even if he’s a gruff Neanderthal. Swiftly, I walk over and give him a hug, in a way of thanks for letting me bring Birdie to work. As I wrap my arms around his waist, he tenses up. He drops his head back and closes his eyes. It’s like it’s physically painful to touch me. What the hell? His arms are stiff at his sides and his hands are in fists. I let go of him, shocked by his reaction to my hug. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding.

  I push my hair back behind my ear and play with my earring. “Umm, I just wanted to say thanks for letting me bring Birdie to work.” I pick up Birdie and close the door behind me. I didn’t realize I repulsed him so much. Who gives that kind of reaction to a hug? Birdie snuggles in my arms. I’m glad I at least have some wanted attention.

  6

  We all settle into a routine. Before I know it, it’s been a month. I’ve received two paychecks. They are everything he said they’d be and more. I’m happy to come to work for him every day. It seems business has picked up too. Our little firm is doing great. Birdie even has a small bed near my desk. There are a few of my mugs in his kitchen. I even talked him into having some peach hand wash in his bathroom. It smells divine. Maybe I can convince him to get some softer hand towels?

  I managed to snoop in his bedroom one day and confirm his comforter is black. I wasn’t snooping initially, I was searching for a document I was missing. Then I happened to have the great idea of looking around and I found his condom stash in his side table drawer, along with a vibrator. What does a guy do with a vibrator? I don’t think I want to know. Or maybe I do. No, Andy. He’s a bearded monster and your boss. Cool your heels, girl.

  Dylan was right. He doesn’t smell like your typical, natural hipster. My boss’ clothes smell very nice and clean. His closet is even somewhat organized. Then Birdie had to ruin my fun and snuggle on his bed. She obviously thinks he smells good too.

  I’ve spoken to Cindy off and on; she finally managed to get another job. It’s closer to her home, but it doesn’t pay as well as her old position. She’s getting by, but barely. I’m keeping my eye out for any positions available in the city for her. So far, there have been no leads.

  It’s Friday, and I’m a little sad I’m not going to see Dylan tomorrow. I’m comfortable here in his apartment. Who would have thought? I’m typing out an e-mail when he strolls through the front door. “Hey, Andy. I’ve got good news.” I make my way over to him. Dylan pulls out a bottle of water, my idea by the way. “I landed that big client. I think we can expand, hire a few new staff and move to an actual office space.”

  Sadness pulls in my stomach. This should be good news. I guess I’ve become too comfortable with being in his apartment. It’s been nice with just the two of us working together. “That’s great news, Dylan.” I try to put on a good face.

  He bends down and pets Birdie. “Birdie is welcome in the new office, of course. She’s become a bit of our mascot. Let’s celebrate. We can go out on the town and have a nice dinner, what do you say?” I could use a drink right now. I’m still trying to understand this conflicting feeling I have about expanding the business. I probably shouldn’t be drinking around my boss. Oh, who am I kidding, it’s just Dylan.

  “Great! Let me just grab my purse.” Pondering the move as I gather my things, I think about how I like it here and how we do things. I like that it’s just him and I. We have a system set in place here. Moving from another job; I need routine and I actually like my desk here. Feeling a bit melancholy over this, I try not to let it show.

  “Sorry, Birdie girl, I don’t think where we are going pigs are welcome. I’ll bring you some scraps.” Dylan rubs behind her ear and she’s putty in his hands. She’s fallen for his bearded charms. “I’m just going to change real quick.” He heads to his bedroom, while I make sure Birdie has enough food and water. At my desk, I turn off my computer and sit down. Struggling with the idea of not being here much longer, I think of Cindy. She could work with Dylan. She’d love it. He pays really well and the benefits are great. Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought. I guess I’m just going to miss the comradery we have. Maybe I’m developing feelings for the schmuck.
Damn.

  Birdie’s practically already asleep in her bed by the time Dylan comes out. “Wow. I think I need to go home and change.” He’s wearing a button-up blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some dark black dress slacks. His hair is combed back and it looks like he’s trimmed his beard a little. Dylan looks hot. I get a tingling feeling between my legs. I might need to slap myself. I can’t believe I’m feeling attracted to him. He smirks at me. Bastard.

  “Okay, we’re stopping by my place. It’s close.” Leading the way to the door, he grabs his jacket and we walk out.

  “Okay, admit it. I’m right. Everything is pink.” Dylan’s waiting in my living room while I change. I decided to go with my red dress and change it up. I’ve been dying to have a place to wear this baby. Plus, I want him checking me out in this, make him pay for my gawking at his apartment.

  “My TV isn’t pink. Or my coffee table, or my two accent chairs.” I smile at his huff from the other room.

  “Okay, everything except three things are pink.” He laughs. I slip on my dress and walk to the living room. He’s checking out my movie collection. He calls out, thinking I’m still in the bathroom. “You like Die Hard?”

  “Yippie-Ki-Yay, motherfucker!” He turns swiftly to face me. His jaw drops, and I know I chose the right dress. He arranges himself through the pockets of his slacks. “Also, you haven’t seen my sleeping area.” My studio apartment is large enough that I have a large wall unit breaking up the room. Grabbing my clutch, I wait at the door for him. Dylan’s still ogling me. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, shaking it off. Then he places his hand on my lower back as we walk out the door. This feels like we are on a date. I don’t know how I feel about that.