CHAPTER 5- IF I DON’T NAME IT
1442 Words
ANDREA
The first sound I heard that morning was the buzz of traffic from the street below. For a moment, I lay still, half-awake, listening; it still felt surreal to be in New York. Then came the smell of coffee, strong and persuasive.
That meant Layla was already up.
I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes. There were still unpacked boxes in the room tucked into corners, a suitcase pushed halfway under the desk, and a potted plant Layla had insisted would “make it feel like home.”
“Morning, miss corporate!” Layla’s voice called from the kitchen, far too energetic for 7 A.M.
I groaned, shuffling out of the room in an oversized sweatshirt. “What’s got you this cheerful so early in the morning?”
“Come on Andrea, it’s a beautiful new day.” Layla handed me a mug, grinning. “Although you look like you fought the night and lost.”
“I’m still adjusting,” I muttered, taking a sip. The coffee was excessively sweet, but far too necessary. “You know, some people ease into city life gradually.”
“Oh please. You’ve been here a week and already work for the most intimidating man on Wall Street. That’s not easing, that’s jumping into the deep end and breathing underwater.”
I smiled, half amused, half resigned. “He’s not that bad.”
“Mr. Vance, right? Ethan Vance?” Layla propped herself against the counter, eyes glinting with mischief. “You never told me what he’s like. Is he terrifying? Handsome? Secretly a vampire who runs board meetings by moonlight?”
“Layla.”
“What? I need details. I’ve seen his picture on the internet. He looks like someone who has his life alphabetized.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “He’s… very put-together. Quiet, but you can tell people listen when he talks. It’s like the room adjusts to him.”
“Ooh,” Layla said, drawing out the sound. “So he has presence.”
“He has authority,” I corrected.
“Same thing, different lighting.” Layla smirked. “You like him.”
I choked on my coffee. “He’s my boss, I respect him.”
“Right,” Layla said, crossing her arms. “And I eat salad for fun.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Layla said cheerfully. “But I’m also right. I’m not saying you’re in love or anything, just that your face does this thing when you talk about him. All focused and soft at the same time.”
I shook my head, pretending to ignore her. “We’ve barely spoken. He probably doesn’t even remember my name.”
“Oh, trust me, men like that remember everything. It’s like they have spreadsheets for emotions.”
I laughed again, warmth spreading through my chest despite myself. “You really need to stop watching all those romantic movies.”
“Never,” Layla said. “It’s called research.”
The subway ride to work was crowded as usual. I stood wedged between a student and a woman scrolling through financial reports on her tablet. The ride was noisy and warm, and I tried to keep my balance as the train swayed.
I walked into the Vance Corporation building and headed for the elevators. The office was as neat and quiet as always, everyone already lost in their work.
“Morning, Andrea.” Jordan, my coworker, called from the next cubicle. He was in his mid-twenties, constantly smiling, and had been the first to welcome me to the department.
“Morning,” I said, setting my bag down.
“You settling in okay?”
“I think so. Still memorizing everyone’s coffee preferences.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s how you survive around here. Coffee loyalty puts you in the good books.”
I smiled, turning to my computer. “Good to know.”
“By the way,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “Mr. Vance is doing a floor walkthrough today. Nothing formal, just checking on project reports. So maybe don’t look too startled if he stops by.”
I nodded, my stomach tightening for a second. “Got it.”
I worked quietly through the morning, reviewing logistics reports, updating spreadsheets, and occasionally engaging in a bit of banter with my coworkers.
Near noon, the sound of footsteps made me glance up. Ethan Vance stood at the far end of the row, speaking to Mr. Dawson. He moved closer as he spoke, his gaze scanning the floor in a way that made people unconsciously straighten. When his eyes briefly met mine, my fingers froze over the keyboard. It wasn’t a long look. Just a few seconds. But I felt every moment of it. He gave a brief nod, polite, and continued walking. That man made the simplest of things feel so intense.
“Wow,” Jordan whispered after he passed. “Every time I see him, I feel like I should apologize for something.”
I laughed softly. “He’s not that bad.”
“Sure.”
We shared a grin, and the tension eased. But my mind still lingered on thoughts I knew it shouldn’t.
By five, I was done for the day, though the office was still half full. I stayed a bit longer, wanting to appear diligent.
Layla was already home when I returned, music playing softly from the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables like her life depended on it.
“Hello, my domestic goddess,” I said, hanging my bag by the door.
“Welcome back to the chaos,” Layla replied. “Dinner in twenty minutes if I don’t burn it.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Absolutely.” Layla grinned. “But you’re too sweet to complain, so we’re good.”
I laughed, kicking off my shoes. “You know me too well for someone I’ve lived with only a week.”
Layla looked up, mock offense on her face. “Excuse you! We’ve bonded. Trauma makes friendships stronger.”
“What trauma?”
“Moving into a fifth-floor apartment with no elevator. My thighs are still mad about it.”
I smiled, settling on a stool near the counter. “Fair point.”
We ate dinner at the small table by the window; noodles, slightly overcooked vegetables, and conversation that moved easily between work gossip and neighborhood stories.
Layla sipped her wine and asked, “So, how was today? Any encounters with your brooding CEO?”
“You make him sound like he wears a cape.” I groaned.
“He might. We don’t know his life.”
“He just walked by today, that’s all.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” I poked at my noodles. “He nodded. That’s it.”
Layla studied me for a second. “You say ‘that’s it,’ but your voice just got quieter.”
I sighed, setting down my fork. “It’s nothing. He just… I don’t know. There’s something about him that makes everyone at the office so flustered.”
Layla tilted her head. “And that bothers you?”
“No,” I said softly. “It just makes me feel weird.”
We sat in companionable silence for a while, the rain starting outside.
Layla smiled. “You’ll figure it out. Whatever that feeling is.”
I looked out the window, watching droplets slide down the glass. “Maybe it’s just the newness of everything. The job, the city.”
“Or maybe,” Layla said, smirking, “it’s because you’ve got a crush on your boss.”
I threw a napkin at her. “Goodnight, Layla.”
Layla laughed, standing to clear the plates. “Denial looks great on you.”
When the dishes were done, the apartment settled into quiet. I curled up on the couch with my laptop, pretending to scroll through work emails but mostly just staring at the screen.
Outside, the rain fell heavier. Somewhere below, a car horn blared and faded. I thought about the office again, the way Ethan Vance moved through it like he belonged to every inch of that world.
And then I thought of myself, still figuring out where I fit, still trying to steady my footing.
Maybe that was all it was.
Still, I couldn’t quite shake the memory of his gaze; it felt like he could see right through me.
I closed my laptop and leaned back, letting the sound of the rain fill the silence.
Tomorrow, I decided, I would stop thinking about him.
Absolutely stop.
- Writer
