Chapter Eleven
Now
“Lux!” Jeanine’s voiceclipped out, her order cutting through the air like an arrow aimed straight for my heart. “My office. Now.”
My head snapped away from the computer screen on my desk, turning automatically toward the sound of her voice. The harbinger of my doom. I caught sight of her for only a brief moment before the opaque door closed at her back.
This was it — I was definitely getting fired. Cara would be so pleased.
I didn’t allow myself to think about the fact that Sebastian had made a special trip down to Harding headquarters to report me to my supervisor. That would only make this harder. He’d been in there for less than fifteen minutes — more like fourteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds, but who was counting? — but I figured that was ample time to describe yesterday’s incident in enough detail to justify my dismissal.
I cringed inwardly as I wove through the labyrinth of cubicles toward Jeanine’s office. Outwardly, though, I kept my brow unmarred by worry lines, my shoulders back, and my head held high. I felt the weight of my coworkers’ eyes on me; there was blood in the water, and the sharks were excited. They all watched my journey — some with sympathy, but most with a poorly concealed anticipatory glee at my impending demise.
“Good luck, girlie,” Sasha murmured with practiced solicitude, her forced frown rendered unconvincing by the excited gleam in her eyes. My gaze shot past her to Fae, who rolled her eyes and proceeded to make ridiculous faces and inappropriate hand gestures in Sasha’s direction.
I felt my lips twitch in repressed laughter as I walked the final steps toward my destiny.
The faint smile died when the glass door slid open and Sebastian stepped out of the office. I froze like a startled doe caught in someone’s high-beams, unsure whether I should acknowledge him or walk past without so much as ahi-how’ve-you-been-for-the-last-seven-years-since-I-ripped-your-heart-to-shreds-like-an-old-grocery-list.
Maybe I could just do something casual.
A wave? No. Too friendly.
A smile? Definitely not. Too fake.
A wink? HA! Who was I freaking kidding?
A nod? Hmm.
Actually, a nod sounded perfect. A nod was casual. Indifferent, yet polite. Neutral but direct.
So I nodded at him — just a slight bob of my head to show that I wasn’t being rude, but remained as unruffled by his presence as he evidently was mine. If only.
To my surprise, Sebastian nodded back — and he didn’t even glare at me while he did it! Not that he smiled or anything. But I was going to consider Operation Nod a success.
Good call, Lux.
My mental congratulations came to a halt when, to my horror, I sidestepped right to pass by him at the exact moment he stepped left to do the same. What followed can only be described as the most awkward, uncoordinated, sidestep-shuffle ever to occur in the history of such collisions.
I immediately corrected my course, stepping left.
At the same time, Sebastian took a hasty step right.
“Sorry,” I muttered, bobbing.
“Pardon me,” he murmured, weaving.
This was completely ridiculous.Why me?I cast my eyes heavenward.
An uncontrollable, semi-hysterical laugh slipped through my lips as I admitted defeat and stopped moving altogether. At the sound, Sebastian froze and his eyes flew to my face, riveted on my lips, as though he was fascinated they’d just produced such a noise. We were face to face, frozen in time for a brief moment, and all I could do was stare at him.
There were faint shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. A light growth of blond stubble covered his chiseled jawline, which I knew meant he probably hadn’t shaved this morning. He had a tan, so he either sunned regularly on his rooftop —doubtful— or he was still an avid fan of the outdoors, as he’d been as a teen.
I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
In some ways, I was still the same girl I’d always been. But the stylish clothes were new, as were the expensive accessories and high profile job. I had more confidence now than I’d had as a girl, in part because of my career but also because I’d come into my own once I graduated college and moved to the city. But I was still the first to laugh at a good joke, and the first to cry at a sad movie scene. Still the girl clumsily tripping over her own feet as she rushed from one task to the next, and still in the habit of leaving dishes in the sink and laundry unfolded if it meant not missing out on something better.
Different, yet the same.